Flesh rising, a bloodied battle field, mass temptation, a ceaseless bludgeoning. Constant confrontation, a flood of decadence tearing at my weaknesses. Clawing, gnashing at my blistered heels, who can save me now? Who can save me from myself? Can you save me now? Thus far I've only further tightened the grip of sin's hands around my throat... around my throat. No strength. No strength of mine. Only God's good mercy. Only His perfect love. (For I can do all things through Christ Jesus who gives me strength. For I can do all things through Christ Jesus who gives me strength.) Guilty hands are covered with the stink of sin, but perfect precious blood takes the bitter shame away. Mercy poured out freshly, a flood of righteousness covering my brokenness. Dark deeds are swept away like crumbling ashes. I accept my death. I embrace my cross, the thorn in my side. I embrace my weakness, the log in my eye. Thus far I've only further tightened the grip of sin's hands... This is me, the face of dependency... Go... Lord give me strength, for I am weak. Christ be my strength so I can overcome. I will overcome
