Though indeed all have faults,
It is the humble, God exalts,
And delivers from all assaults.
Those who endeavor to go low,
And are beset with sorrow,
Can be comforted to know,
When the wicked are cut off,
They’ll gladly look up from their trough,
And see an end to those who scoff,
At Christ the risen Lamb,
Who will fulfill His gracious plan,
To bring peace ‘twixt every man.
But in order to have peace,
We must be humbly clothed with fleece,
And, all our selfishness, release.
To be proud is to press down,
Those seen as having less renown,
And to rise up as they drown.
We must become little lambs,
Lift up the needs of other mans,
And follow the Shepherd’s plans.
For our Lord who became weak,
Who’s gentle loving and meek,
Said it is the ones who seek,
That’ll find Him and inherit the Earth,
Obtain the jewel of priceless worth,
And live forever in good mirth.
But our pride leads us to death,
And just like Lady Macbeth,
To be forever robbed of breath.
Indeed it tends to woeful madness,
The opposite of joy and gladness,
And damns its followers to sadness.
For God will hide His face,
From those who pridefully replace,
Humble submission with disgrace.
In fact He is quite wrathful;
Of this truth we shan’t be bashful:
The prideful will drink a glass full,
Of God’s frothing, foaming wrath.
So please do not choose this path,
But, in Christ’s blood, take a bath.
By the Lamb’s blood be washed clean.
Humbly come, be made pristine.
For God is gracious and not mean.
His heart is full of love;
He descended from above;
A greater humility, none’s heard of.
He bled and died for me and you,
And because of what he went through,
We can be raised to life anew.
For, the trusting humble, God exalts;
He pays in full their sin’s defaults,
And their every tear, forever, halts.
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