Dressed in my very best lace.
I know it’s already late yet I walk at snail pace
I say, this is afterall a temple of grace
Is this where I shall see God’s face?
Will I stay here all my days?
Not me, I am only here for a gaze.
Why must I learn his ways or listen to what he says
Is it not my call to decide what pays?
Do not make me, all my guilt, confess
When I’m covering up, I can apply common sense
I don’t have to say all those unpleasant things
Was it not said that he paid for my sins?
Can’t I throw holiness into the bin?
Is it so wrong to down bottles of gin?
To worship him, must I be so keen?
Afterall, he is the king of kings
With him are worshipping angels to us unseen
Then, the preacher comes to the scene,
He talks about God’s grace and my numerous sins,
He speaks of separating the wheat from weeds
God’s mercy, true despite my awful deeds
He says the Great King, so loving
Who despite man’s sins remains forgiving
Could be a judge ruling with a flaming sword
To judge those that heed not his word
On such ones, his anger will be poured
I kneel, out of me, the haughty spirit flies
The preacher says, looking in my teary eyes
“Shall we continue in sin and say grace should abound?”
Written by: Adegbite Joy Asepeoluwa
Edited by: Kukogho Iruesiri Samson
I am a member of the WRR editorial team.