In the guilt of mine own soul I cry out to the Lord, never has these lips quivered so greatly nor these eyes been so red.
Guilt is my garments and shame is my robes, I drink the wine of mine own doing and sip the fruits of mine own sins. Sweet it tasted in mine own mouth but bitter was it in my stomach, for the wine is tempting in appearance and ever calls me to drink and in mine own weakness I have tasted it's grapes many times always forgetting the bitterness that awaits me.
Is there hope for such a drunkard as me? Can one such as I ever be saved? A warning I give to those who are of learning, drink not the wine that the temptress of sin gives. For she comes in many forms and knows how to seduce, she knows of your weakness and she offers you the wine of your choice. The wine is pleasant to the eyes and sweet to the lips but upon your first sip she sneers in confidence having enwrapped you in her web like a black widow does her prey.
Though at first the wine is sweet and your tongue savors it's goodness your throat burns and your stomach pains and sours, such is the wine of sin and those who taste it's flavors.
For I have known this wine well yet like a dog returning to it's own vomit this fool has continued to soak in mine own drunkenness, Though my pores reek of mine own doing and though my only clothing is mine own shame and guilt do I dare to look up to the king and plead for mercy? For how could one so pure and and so clean look upon one such as I? Would his kingship in his raging fury seethe into mine own inner being leaving nothing but black crisp and ash? The temptress continues to offer me this mine whispering into my ear my fears, I seek not the wine and desire not the lies of the temptress yet I tremble as I hesitate to call upon the name of the one who saves.
Not being worthy and reeking of mine own doings dragging my clothing's of guilt and shame as one in poverty does, slowly and trembling daring not to even look around me in the hallway of the king in the splendor of his domain I finally arrive at the throne and in mine own mind eye I see a king with a mighty scepter filled with such hot rage and seething and eyes that burn so intense that they could burn even the sun into a ball of black crisp. Such is the image I expect to see as I begin to look up to the king of glory for it is deserving and right for a poor drunkard as I who has the nerve to even dare to ask upon his name.
Yet as my head began to rise to look upon his face slowly yet surely as my eyes began to reach from his feet to his legs to his upper body and soon his face a light was enveloping me my eyes no longer sore and dry from my tears my eyes from dim deadness to a bright vivid color and filled with life, my pores no longer reeking yet releasing a fragrance sweeter than honey and more wonderful that maple my clothes from ragged and torn cloth coated with stains of mine own disgust replaced with fine and luxurious clothing decorated immensely with gold and purple emerald and sapphire a crown lay upon my now elegant and silky hair made the greatest jewels.
As I at last am looking upon the kings face the image I imaged long faded beyond my remembrance I see a brilliantly shining face with a smile that he can barely contain, his eyes a shining and radiant blue filled with such love and care more than be described with the human tongue his arms wide open just craving to envelope me and it is not rage and fury nor the hotness of his anger that seethes into mine inner being but a warmth of love and acceptance it was as if I had never tasted the wine of mine own doing even before birth as if I was never born out mine own mothers womb but was born into his kingdom from even before creation.
Utterly astonished as the entire kingdom applauded for the return of only one lost child such as I, the one who reeked of only the deepest stench of mine own wine the one whose rags and clothes were only the lowest of my shame and filth. Have I believed the lies of the temptress of sin this long? hath I drunk the bitter wine of mine own doing and carried the suffering of mine shame and guilt for nothing? A fool I have been I think to mine self as I take my first sip of the wine the king himself hath shed and taste the bread that he himself offers.Drink not the wine of the temptress of sin and believe not her lies, wise is the one listens to my tale for the king beckons with riches abundant.
Guilt is my garments and shame is my robes, I drink the wine of mine own doing and sip the fruits of mine own sins. Sweet it tasted in mine own mouth but bitter was it in my stomach, for the wine is tempting in appearance and ever calls me to drink and in mine own weakness I have tasted it's grapes many times always forgetting the bitterness that awaits me.
Is there hope for such a drunkard as me? Can one such as I ever be saved? A warning I give to those who are of learning, drink not the wine that the temptress of sin gives. For she comes in many forms and knows how to seduce, she knows of your weakness and she offers you the wine of your choice. The wine is pleasant to the eyes and sweet to the lips but upon your first sip she sneers in confidence having enwrapped you in her web like a black widow does her prey.
Though at first the wine is sweet and your tongue savors it's goodness your throat burns and your stomach pains and sours, such is the wine of sin and those who taste it's flavors.
For I have known this wine well yet like a dog returning to it's own vomit this fool has continued to soak in mine own drunkenness, Though my pores reek of mine own doing and though my only clothing is mine own shame and guilt do I dare to look up to the king and plead for mercy? For how could one so pure and and so clean look upon one such as I? Would his kingship in his raging fury seethe into mine own inner being leaving nothing but black crisp and ash? The temptress continues to offer me this mine whispering into my ear my fears, I seek not the wine and desire not the lies of the temptress yet I tremble as I hesitate to call upon the name of the one who saves.
Not being worthy and reeking of mine own doings dragging my clothing's of guilt and shame as one in poverty does, slowly and trembling daring not to even look around me in the hallway of the king in the splendor of his domain I finally arrive at the throne and in mine own mind eye I see a king with a mighty scepter filled with such hot rage and seething and eyes that burn so intense that they could burn even the sun into a ball of black crisp. Such is the image I expect to see as I begin to look up to the king of glory for it is deserving and right for a poor drunkard as I who has the nerve to even dare to ask upon his name.
Yet as my head began to rise to look upon his face slowly yet surely as my eyes began to reach from his feet to his legs to his upper body and soon his face a light was enveloping me my eyes no longer sore and dry from my tears my eyes from dim deadness to a bright vivid color and filled with life, my pores no longer reeking yet releasing a fragrance sweeter than honey and more wonderful that maple my clothes from ragged and torn cloth coated with stains of mine own disgust replaced with fine and luxurious clothing decorated immensely with gold and purple emerald and sapphire a crown lay upon my now elegant and silky hair made the greatest jewels.
As I at last am looking upon the kings face the image I imaged long faded beyond my remembrance I see a brilliantly shining face with a smile that he can barely contain, his eyes a shining and radiant blue filled with such love and care more than be described with the human tongue his arms wide open just craving to envelope me and it is not rage and fury nor the hotness of his anger that seethes into mine inner being but a warmth of love and acceptance it was as if I had never tasted the wine of mine own doing even before birth as if I was never born out mine own mothers womb but was born into his kingdom from even before creation.
Utterly astonished as the entire kingdom applauded for the return of only one lost child such as I, the one who reeked of only the deepest stench of mine own wine the one whose rags and clothes were only the lowest of my shame and filth. Have I believed the lies of the temptress of sin this long? hath I drunk the bitter wine of mine own doing and carried the suffering of mine shame and guilt for nothing? A fool I have been I think to mine self as I take my first sip of the wine the king himself hath shed and taste the bread that he himself offers.Drink not the wine of the temptress of sin and believe not her lies, wise is the one listens to my tale for the king beckons with riches abundant.