I Spat on His Sacrifice

Long ago I lived in darkness,
Reveling in ebony
Until the day I understood,
He gave His life to bring me through
Still I seem to search for shadow,
Hiding from the light it seems,
Why does the sun seem too intense
And night's embrace seem soft and cool?

For my sins his limbs were broken,
When they stripped him, beat him, choked him,
And his blood was dripping off the tree...
All this I know, yet I falter,
Like I'm saying, "Holy Martyr,
Your sacrifice's not good enough for me."

"Live your life for me," he's crying
But I lean my head away and
Turn a deaf ear toward his weeping
Scoffing at thoughts of him dying.
"For your love alone I died!"
My Jesus sobs, and now I falter;
Is my life worth living like
I'm spitting on His sacrifice?

For my sins His limbs were broken,
When they stripped him, beat Him, choked Him,
And His blood was dripping off the tree...
All this I know, yet I falter,
Like I'm saying, "Holy Martyr,
Your sacrifice's not good enough for me."

Standing in Gathsemanae,
Thinking thoughts of you and me,
Knowing that at times we'd let Him down.
Still a willing paschal lamb
He died that we might not be damned
And trusted that we'd always come around.

For my sins His limbs were broken,
When they stripped Him, beat Him, choked Him,
And His blood was dripping off the tree...
All this I know, so I'll stand
And pledge my Savior, Son of Man,
A life worthy of Your sacrifice I'll gladly lead.

So sayeth The Brad...