The Wages He Paid

Lost was I in sin
Into the miry clay I sank
No beauty to draw Him

Filthy rags my attire
Inhaling sin
Exhaling death

Nasty was I
To sin a slave
Not cogency to win Him

His Principles
To infringe not
Death; the sin wages

The wages He paid
Emptying the cup of God’s wrath
All for me to be a son
In lieu of a slave to sin