TRADE-IN

Sin in my life,
part of me just like my wife.
Old rickety sounds rife,
worthless before His hand,
the sentence he passed,
death at hand, my conscience surpassed,

to the world am rusty,
my life story so dusty,
untasty to the tongues of me and women alike,
I was once a like to the world,

my sin hangs on me like my shadow,
off to the meadow, my brain wonders,
Thy solace I seek, Thy refuge I plead.
Am ashamed to look up to You.
Man up the say, though to You the Man up I freak out.

The temple curtains torn by Your power,
You hang on a cross, a product of Your carpentry profession,
over two thousand years ago,
vividly the story makes sense today,
to make hay while the sun still shines,
I answer that call.

I aint any different from that mugger on the back street,
or the gossiper in the village chama,
I aint any better than that drunkard who lay on the trench in a stupor,
Or any nicer than that harlot on the night street.
I am worse, worse because even though You professed true and unconditional love to me,
am so full of myself and think of only me,
I cheat on You Lord.. Am the same as the harlot,

but You still chose to die for me,
You chose to be killed for me,
You chose to be whipped and abused for me.
Even after all this You still say to me Come my son,
and at the cross where my redemption was granted,
I TRADE-IN my everything,
for a fresh new start.