My dossier is ever before you
Whom shall I run to?
Torn by the foe within
Beaten by the whip of sin
Drowned by the murmurs of self-
How long will I ask for forgiveness?
The law of death I wrestled with;
The eyes of my heart were getting dim
The gate of grace I could seldom see
And so my will was lost to sin:
What then was my quid pro quo?
Death! How else could I be bestowed?
That very day you were crowned in thorns.
Broken and bruised you were clad in scorn
But then it was prophecy all along.
You chose to be hung on that rugged cross
That I should not be forever lost
This diaphanous heart asks for your light
That it may finally receive your sight
And see the end of this fight
Which you won the very day you died;
I also ask for the new life
Which you wrought by your Spirit Divine.
Yisa Samuel.
Branches of The Vine 