Observing creation, I long for Thee,
My Savior, my Fortress, and my King.
The One who hung on a bloody tree,
The Cross in which I desperately cling.
O Father, we rebel against Thee,
Deciding to choose our wicked path;
The one deserving the sentence is me,
Yet, Thou ransom exhausted His wrath.
O Lord, I am inclined to hate Thee,
My very nature determines it;
Yet, only Thy lamp allows me to see,
The Hope in me which once was unlit.
How kindhearted and steady are Thee,
Evil trembles at Thy distinct voice.
Only Thy ear inclines to hear my plea,
What must forever make me rejoice.
In this life Thy hands hast bestowed,
There is only one thing I need;
The Book in which Thy love overflowed,
The Bible that uproots the devil’s weed.