What am I that you cared for me, made of the earth and given to revelry.
In weakness I stumbled, I fell and I tumbled,
back to the earth I was made of.
You carried my grief and bore my sorrows, judgement spared by perfection borrowed.
Your wounds for my sin, your stripes heal within,
I will rise from the earth that I'm made of.
- ▼ March (16)