His Blood My Atonement

Siloma

Siloma

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My steps are ordered
And my trouble powdered
My feet are on this rock
The same that I mocked
My eyes are gazed on this way
The same he carried my ill
As I chanted with my fig
And spat on his knee
Unable to carry His cross
Was it His cross?

Many a times I thought He carried His own burden
Forgetting that I was weary and heavy laden
With sin that blinded and made me mean
That I thought my life revolved around me
And He came to intrude my space
By abolishing the law and bringing His own

What then do I say
When all I need to pray
To Him who does amazingly, abundantly
And above all?

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