Tried I've been, and sore afflicted;
Purged to set my spirit free
from the worthless gold and glitter
of a world still courting me.
God must slay the soulish passion,
for the world means naught to me;
Yet my frame so oft embraces
what the Spirit warns me flee.
Useless dross, my very being;
Yet some value caught His eye;
God's Spirit hid among the rubble
would emerge if I could die.
Flay this flesh, old self do sever;
Kill the soulish inner part;
Unveil the Savior ever living
in my redeemed, surrendered heart.
[ by: Joyce Guy (Joy Of Art Shop) -- submitted by: Joyce Guy ]
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