The Prodigal

Here I stand humbled, with face bowed in shame.
Yes I have fumbled and disgraced your name.
But what can I do, to redeem my place.
This I ask of you, that you show me grace.

As I stand, I cry. I mourn for my loss.
As I cry, I try, to reach for the cross.
Cleanse me, this I pray, rid me of my woe.
And wash me today, make me white as snow.

All I ask is this, that you call me son.
And to have your kiss, like a child just born.
I long for a taste, of your soothing rain.
For this I make haste to feel once again.

Take me and restore, light up my darkness.
For you I adore, of you have reverence.
To you I have come, to none I will go.
For me you did come, and this I do know.

You did give me all, and I did not lack.
But I had a fall, to you turned my back.
Restore unto me, that which I have lost.
Please uplift me, raise me from the dust.

For this I will sing and lift up my voice.
You alone are king and I will rejoice.
You are kind to all, in grace not frugal.
So to you I call as a prodigal.

(C) Peter Akhere

 

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