Grace

A silent murmer, sweeter this
than all life's splendor, or betraying kiss.
Am I so much the better soul
though your life by death I stole
the very purity I sought
which by cruel death, your breath had bought.

I scouraged you, I slapped you
it was me who twisted thorns into
Your head, the nails into your hands and feet
the spear in your side, to steal your heartbeat.
it was I, I pronounced you dead
and rejoiced as I spat on your head.

It was I, who knew only hate
that you died for, hell to sate
of the bloodlust for me
that you did die and set me free.

What strange punishment is this,
but no consequence amiss.
It should've been me,
How could it be
that the perfection of man
Came to do what none can
And saved a wretched soul like me
who commits more sins nigh constantly
yet for it all you paid the price,
and by Your payment, I suffice.