Condemned, so
condemned my heart moves yet You speak against this conclusive score. But then why do I add all things up and come
so short. Why this irrevocable display
before action and after action pounding to win its determined residence. Why is sight positioned to toil against
seasons of weakness, committed to bring my soul to winter in the heat of wondrous
summer? Why do I fight, with possessiveness, my right to hold to my own strength; and yet I see clearly that weakness is the
fate of my days, observing my flesh giving way to death’s claim I return to
dust?
Condemned,
domed to come to nothing; verses convicted, rising to favor Your Plan. So
closely woven that only worship, fixing my eyes to the One who bids me rest in
the middle of these glaring failures, can divide and bring me to safety rather than
falsely suffer in a dooms standing.
Precious is the death that gives me the meditation of new life; transforming
my way to new memories of change.
Bring me the
fear of Poppa’s love. For fear has the
wisdom that does not allow false room to roam.
Fear is love wrapped in knowing.
When knowing, who would be foolish to move other ways. Striking false with fear anoints its piercing
point and brings sweet aroma to surface. Fear produces solid focus with unfaltering
vision.
I struggle
taking my heart to many devotions and slip on false gods. Convict with Your promise You love those You
discipline. Raise a standard in me where
this fear that towers upon such love, destroys the voice of condemnation, as sweet
scented conviction increases to kiss me away from ruin and direct me to
abundant joy.
When
accusations attack to question where my treasure is, I want to be found guilty
of cherishing the cross, cherishing the discipline that gives You absolute open
freedom to say what You must and all words are devoured by my thirsty soul to
drink in as if were my last. I want this
covering that gives the angel armies less work on me and more against my
enemy. I yearn for this hand of mercy so
kind to trouble wrong within me and shake out distrust for total trust in
Savior. I want my words to be as a song
playing in the background of Your love’s exposure. You sing Poppa, and I will dance to each
note. You pour Poppa, and I will scatter
it to icing the land. I want my steps to
be about following, not leading. Your
glory shine and I will reflect its brightness.
Purify my
heart, let me be as gold as I look upon Your Holy.
