Here am I, Lord, thine own to bruise
And bind up, only for thy use.
Chastise now my rebelling soul;
Whilst Thou woundest me, make me whole.
My feeble hands quicken and train;
Fix up these knees that eas’ly sprain.
Sheer me off the unrighteous path
Where endeth wrath for the fool’s bath.
I grasp ’tis him whom Thou lovest
When erreth he, Thou reprovest.
For good Thou wilt my style correct,
So I be found in Thee perfect.
Oh, how they fall that doth despise
Thy right statutes, Thy warning eyes;
They that thy counsels loathe to hear
The wand’ring cat seekest to tear.
Here am I, Lord, born for Thy will;
Melt and morph me aright until
My parts adopt Thy chosen frame:
Faultless gold bar, carved in Thy flame.
Written by: Kingsley U. Ayistar
Edited by: Kukogho Iruesiri Samson