Settle the Account
A work of wickedness I wrought
In yesterday’s weak hour.
Oh Lord, I thought the blood had bought
My life from sin’s rank power!
The test had come quite suddenly,
When I was tired and strained
From toil of day and working-place
And thoughts of you had waned.
A bitter word cut to my heart
And ruffled up my pride;
Retorting with a hateful tongue,
I grieved Christ crucified.
I have no peace within my soul.
Can such a one be saved?
I have to let the flesh-fire go,
For Lord, ‘tis you I crave.
Yes, something festers deep within,
The pain of sin concealed.
The foul infection of my wrong
Must now be lanced and healed.
I thought that life could just go on,
And time would mend the wrong;
But in my quiet hours alone
The guilt is just prolonged.
And so, I come to you in prayer,
To settle these arrears.
To find your sweet forgiveness there,
But first, the salt and tears…
Then with a sense of grace renewed,
The Spirit’s job well done.
I’ll seek the brother once aggrieved,
And magnify your Son.
Yes, to the one whom Satan used,
So each misunderstood,
I will repair and make amends
And heal the hurt with good.
I sense from this experience
Of sin, and of reunion,
The blessings of confession’s work
To maintain sweet communion.
I know not if that sin had meant
A threat to my salvation.
I only know your smile removed
Was hellish condemnation!
And this must be an aspect of
One’s walking in the Spirit.
To sense each act that grieves you, Lord,
Then instantly to clear it.
‘Tis not as if I have to sin
A little more each day.
In fact, you bring more antidote
Directly, as I pray.
But prayer can only please you, Lord,
If bathed in Jesus’ blood.
And thus, the crimson power proves
My ever-cleansing flood.