We pilgrims are not so twined,
Nay...we would rather reprise ..
And deliberately incise
Lest our ties should bind..
Nay...we would rather unwind
than ever Confide
To become clearly defined..
Alas, we choose to be resigned..
Black sheep can no longer sleep
Confined... they wail... they weep..
Besieged, anguished.. they seek..
A soul, languished..
longs to be refined..
Ah, Such is the fate of mankind..
Drowned by faults and fears
Through helpless infant years..
We weave our web of tears
And yearn to please…with all degrees..
‘Tis our disease!
Does Sin ever Cease?
We are indeed afflicted..
And some confess to be convicted..
‘Tis easier to offend... to pretend..
Our light is now spent ..
And we have yet, to amend.. to repent..
Hark! There He stands, Invictus!
He lights the coming age..
With pious words forthright..
A tortured soul , stands, upright..
A human pulse, now, purified..
Penned and spoken..
With precise excision..
And intended provision,
This swift incision..
Restores my crystal vision..
And I...transcend! My wings,
Once broken, were His crimson token..
Souls that desperately trembled..
Now Cling and Rise..
They no longer hide…behind earthly guise..
Discerning… His Splendor..
His Trumpet of Wonder..
The Music I now hear
is ever so clear..
And Oh so near..
I shed my pride; set all aside..
I see His face, His ebb, His tide…
Our Lord of Truth and Humble Grace…
Appoints our place..
Affectuous! We sustain!
Invictus! We remain!