I am the Bride, who walks in hope,
Looking to the Lord of Love;
But on my way, my eyes are caught.
Within, a battle, not yet fought,
Is lost, and drags me from above.
Adulterous and wretched, I grope.
I am the one who put Him on the Cross.
The scoffer who deserves the pain.
My love of Me has brought no gain –
I am the wretch whose life is merely dross.
I am the Dirt that lies upon,
And in, the grave at which I kneel.
Yes, with my shovel, I have mined
A six foot hole, that death divined
For cheated lives that none can heal –
Yet by His Love, my Lord has won.
I am submission, now upraised,
For even death can be undone.
Although death is what I deserve,
He crucified Himself to serve.
My Self must learn to love the Son –
To sing to Him, “Your name be praised!”
I am the one who put Him on the Cross,
But still He loved me as His bride.
In love of Him, in Him I died –
I live for Him, all else in life is loss.