With an act of will I choose my path, reach out to heaven, grasp grace at last.
Amid my struggle, darkness coils its tendrils round my soul.
Lifting, groaning, stepping, falling, the weight will lift, I know.
For I have made my choice, my life, I’ve chosen wisely, left the strife.
But still the soil of life ensnares me, reaps my sweat, uncovers, bares me.
fist I shake to heaven’s gate. Where is the promise, I’ve come to hate?
Where is my blessing? What sin remains? I’m left with rags and filthy
Here within the wedding feast, I’m dressed to kill but not to eat.
All those around me I despise for glowing robes and then their eyes.
They see right through me, the choice I’ve made.
With mine own hand I sought to save, this wretched soul, this dirty slave.
It belonged to me, I sought to boast, my own to give, my health to toast.
Yet coming swiftly is the One, whom I fear, I loath, I shun.
My putrid clothes He must reject, and me, who wore them as his guest.
How did I come to such an end? Not by the door, not as a friend.
My will I kept to my demise, the clothes of death that never die.
He doesn’t care, my counsel firm, He meets me here, on my own term.
Yet thrown away, apart from them, I find myself alone again.
For all my work through toil and rain, the door is closed.
In darkness I remain.
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