Mourning my Blindness, for the One

My hands gave in again

To turn my mind again

To all the things that caused the One

To crush Himself for me

The old man cackled with delight

My Soul gave out a cry

That He should see me, beloved outcast

His sacrifice defy

A love incomprehensible

The Eyes of man mayn't see

The Lord of Love, a sacrifice,

Was scorned and shunned by me

Oh, wretched man, what glorious mercy

And grace, that poured out THE Heart

For me,

When, knowing all that comes and goes,

My denial He did foresee

We play the game

And spend our unearned light

To serve a master who scorned

The One, and yet WE HAVE THE GALL

TO CLAIM THE LOVE OF HIM

THE GRIME OF MAN WHOM BORE

"O SINNER, WOULD THAT YOU WERE HOT

OR COLD, THAT YOU WOULD NOT CLAIM

MY LOVE, AND THE "riches" OF THIS EARTH

DESIGN TO SLAVE TO THAN THE GLORY OF THINGS

ABOVE"

fine

Your time is not wasted in reading this, if it causes you to think of the Author rather than the author. Hope this helps someone.