Where is your present locus?
Where is your focus?
No amount of gospel
If you atrophy your scruple
Can ignite metanoia
You can kill Jesus seventy times
His mercy is never bound by times
Neither sin's heaviness nor frequency
Can overburden his mercy
His Blood covers all filth and dirt
He will never harvest you before your maturity
He leads you with his merciful hands from infancy to puberty
Even in your adulthood he withdraws not his paternal eye
His plans and cares are that of your ascending divinely high
Till you come to the eternal banquet
You may have sold Jesus many times and many ways
You may have carpeted him in obscurity or foggy gays
You may have doubted his being or not being God
You may have scorned or mocked his merciful staff and rod
Think of Calvary, weep but whip not your heart to death
