There is a man

There is a man who knows my mind
When I do not; and he designed
To taste my weakness, so that he
Could ever help and strengthen me.
With every choice he kept constrained
All his abilities and made
No moan for his afflicted time;
But crossed his life pursuing mine.

For I was sick and didn’t know;
Abused my neighbours, even though
I’d been so much abused myself -
‘Til I could think of nothing else.
And everything I stole from life
I locked away and called ‘my rights’
‘Til he who made this world living slipped
Into it poor to make us rich.

And I was still his enemy
When Jesus screamed in agony,
‘Forgive them’; and so it was done:
Exhausting death, he made us one.
His perfect life is mine; no power
Can ever take it from me now.
And I am longing to begin;
To take my cross and follow him.
To take my cross and follow him.