If you leave me like I am, I’ll be filthy, naked and poor.

The fear of that assails me, so I lay me at your door.

Oh wretched me!  Oh Glorious you!  The rumors MUST be true!

Or I will die a dreadful death; forsaken by even you.

Now I will to cause my hands to bleed by knocking on your door.

What great surprise comes to my eyes you demand not such a war.

“Stand tall my child, and enter in.  My body was torn for you.

Come taste and see that I AM good; my promises are true.”

Oh sweet One!  Now I find that rest my soul has so long for.

For all you ask is a broken heart, as we lay at your door.

By His Grace