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COME
Upon myself I would lean
But in such weakness I can't seem
To carry the heavy burden borne
By my soul tattered, torn
"Come," he beckons, "Let me share
The load you find so hard to bear
My yoke is light so easy, free
You can cast your woes on me."
I would but I am so afraid
What will he ask of me in trade?
I've naught to give, a beggar's fare
Nothing worthy of His care
The driven nail, the wounded side
The bloody sin now crucified
With love he offers grace to me
All is paid, all is free
Choice is all that holds me sway
No excuse can bar my way
The battle rages 'til at length
My weakness becomes my strength
© 2004 Rita L. Betti
All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system, except as may be expressly permitted by the 1976 Copyright Act or in writing from the author. Requests for permission should be addressed in writing to Rita L. Betti via the contact page.
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