Regret caked on my skin like sticky mud,
Bathed in the stench of my mistakes and sin,
My conscience drowned in pools of bile and blood,
With no forgiveness for the filth I’m in.

The angels that God sent each turn away,
Divine, but not enough that they’d succeed.
Angels on High fear for their own decay,
For only God Himself could meet this need.

O God, redeem this lost and worthless soul!
As on the day you moved across the deep!
Or sheltered Moses hiding in his hole!
“The LORD! The LORD!” you showed him your mystique.

You promised me my sins you would erase,
Redeem me, God, and move across my face.