Woe to me.
Woe to me.
I cannot do myself what I set out to do again.
If it were up to me would I fail? I have failed.
I have no want of the light.
My soul is plagued with despair.
I do this to myself over and over and over.
There is no light at the end of the tunnel.
And then a calm as if nothing.
Have I become so cold?
Why do we say,
"Cast down my soul?"
As if there was a choice?
The reality grips me
As though a man were stealing my money.
I cannot do a thing.
I watch myself fall into the same temptations.
I would say, "It's not about my glory,"
And then I would act like it is mine.
How do you preach holiness
When you repeatedly violate your own conscience.
His wounds have paid my ransom.