My Shame, Your Mercy

I’m a wretch, horrid,
Shame upon my face florid,
As I tell you of my sin,
This thing to common among men,
I tell you of my shame,
Of Satan’s treacherous game,
Of leading myself into the night,
Without struggle or fight,
And sinning against you,
In this thing that I do.
And then you say,
With words bright as day,
“I still love you,
No matter this thing you do,
You have failed and fallen,
Into your old sin,
You still have my whole heart,
Every single part,
But get up my love, fight on,
This night is nearly spent and gone.”
And thus you, my strength renew,
And thus I am able to continue,
Pressing on with you towards the light,
With all of our might.