If I should ask one hundred eyes
To take a look at me,
They’d see a liberated soul
Whom Jesus died to free,
But deep within this mortal shell
Entwined in earth’s debris,
A dark reflection lies in wait—
The Me they cannot see.
I’ve sensed his presence many years
(At least to some degree),
And felt him loosen up my tongue
With ire or jealousy,
Then blame my lack of self-control
But when the people stop and stare,
They only look at me.
I cannot count the days and nights
I’ve prayed on bended knee
To ask the Lord to intervene
And make this scoundrel flee,
But He replied, “My saving grace
Is quite enough for thee,
So you might follow not in pride,
But in humility.”
I always thought two couldn't walk
Unless they both agree,
Yet I am forced to share his load
By heavenly decree;
Perhaps someday he’ll fade away
Then nevermore shall I recall
The Me I used to be.
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