GodLy PerFectiOn.

Set me free of my gilded cage

The cage in which I rage

when I don't receive my wage-

my dirty, undeserved wage.

Set me free, El Roi, 

"God who sees" all I do all day.

I dance and sing and perform my life away.

I seek glory in vain. 

I can do nothing without the power,

the dunamus

of your name.

Jesus, I'm ashamed 

of my behavior-

it's silliness, really. 

I do, I move only by the power of your grace

and expect a gift-

nicely packaged

with frills

and lace

for the things I do...by grace.

Grace I neither possess autonomously

or earned;

it was rendered me

without reason

by a God who saw me commit sin, openly - treason.

I win only because my sin

was laid on your back-

this fact I cannot bear, 

but I must.

Because I lust - I've lusted.

And I'm forgiven.

I'm rust- I've rusted.

And I'm repaired and living.

I'm alive in grace-

in the warmth of Jesus' resurrection.

How sweet, how succulent, 

is this taste, this Godly perfection.