My Bloody Hands

There is blood upon my hands!,
Every time I break His commands,
I am so weak,
My way is so bleak,
I feel like a child,
Lost and left in the wild,
Who is all alone,
As under tempest and toil I moan,
But I know this truth,
That no matter how uncouth,
I may live and be,
There is still mercy,
For God is still love,
And He watches from above,
And all I must do,
Is repent anew,
For this sin in my soul,
This blackness like coal,
That burns inside me,
Eating light that none might see,
But my Father is merciful,
Who will make me full,
Of all good gifts,
Who will bridge the rifts,
Forged by my sin,
Break these chains of men,
Bound upon me,
That I might eternally be,
His warrior, and His son,
Living with the Father as one,
So father breathe into me,
That I might be,
Resurrected from death,
Give me that living breath,
In double measure,
That efficacy might be sure,
That I might redeem the time,
Wasted in spiritual crime,
That people might see,
In verity,
Your character vindicated,
And sin Eradicated