My God, there is no patience left in me
But some in You there still must be
For You have not yet slaughtered me.
Though I -- who am so unforgiving, still
And hard-hearted, against Your will --
Find all my impulse is to kill
And crush these wretched fools for whom You died
To save and raise them to reside
With You, and in Your love abide.
While I, o’er whom that love should hold all sway
Would sooner follow my own way
In rage, to make offenders pay
As though Your sacrifice were not enough:
God satisfied, shall I rebuff
Forgiveness I, too, have need of?
And having been by You forgiven all
Shall I now for full payment call
From my fellows? Oh God, forestall
My folly! Am I not but one of them--
A fool in need of grace? So then,
Why am I so impatient when
All the mercy that they need
Is no more than You've given me?
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