Our Argument

Lord, I have failed again;
My striving is in vain.
My thoughts turn dark;
My soul yearns in wretched lust
Toward deeds sinful and vile!

Ah, Lord, there’s nothing
I deserve but to feel
The backside of Your hand
Across my face—
Such a wretch I am, O Lord!

No. I don’t deserve the love
That You offer once again;
The forgiveness that You give
Is too good for all my sin.
I deserve nothing but pain.

Yes, Lord, I remember
What You say to me
Of the Prodigal’s returning
And the Father’s overwhelmed joy,
But Your joy would be in vain.

I’d run again,
And that revolting sin
Would be like the one before,
And grossly more—
Such a wretch I am.

But Lord!—Yes. Yes, I remember
The Jews during the Judges’ time:
How many times they strayed from You—
A wretched lot!—
Yet still You brought them home.

Yes, dear Lord, I know Your grace—
Into Your home You would receive me
And fold my unworthy soul in Your embrace.
But—Yes, dear Lord, I’ll raise my eyes to see—
Ah, Lord!—the wounds You bore for me!