I scarce begin to think
This all there is
That dawn should break
The spell that hells
Within my heart
So here I remain
And wallow in my pain
My pride to gain
That grace abstain
Yet sorrow aches
While thee alone
My soul forsakes
I've Martha'd my mind
In cycles of perfection
For all this grand baffet
Will pass away
And what becomes my joy
And grief my heart
When scarce it hear
The master urge me
To Mary my way
At His feet
That humility should
My pride defeat
What love Devine
Would have me in my scorn
While all the while am I
Caught up in myself
And judgement
Takes top shelf
Of all my bottled
Mess
Forgive me
Of my idle tongue
And thoughts
That hung thee
Upon the tree
I scare can gaze
Upon the cursed corpse
For know I it shouldst
Been mine
Did hang upon it there
Yet my sorrowed despair
Did rather take upon
Thyself
That I should be
Made free
Thy misery
A mystery to me
That majesty
Should stoop
To call me it's
Own
And in death
Should call me
Home as son
Betrothed and bride
Safe through
All eternity
To abide
By His side
-Joshua Lee Foist
