“I hate my loathsome bitterness!”,

We claim, yet seldom fight.

Its roots run deep, and strong they grip;

Beguiling us with lies.

Sin pleads, “A little sooths the soul.”

All while its leaven stains the whole.

Defiled, our love for men grows cold,

As discord in the church is sown,

And grieves the Spirit’s heart.

 

Instead why do we not forgive,

And lay offense aside?

For love can cover many sins,

And heal our wounded pride.

Why do we oft reject this peace,

When Jesus died for our reprieve?

Like fools, we nurture our disease,

And plague ourselves with countless griefs

When joy could be our prize.

 

He who has been forgiven much, loves much, loves much

He who has been forgiven much, loves much, loves much

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How can we entertain this sin,

When bought at such a price?

Our guilt and shame was laid on Him,

The spotless sacrifice.

For Christ was silent when reviled;

Trusting the Father all the while

That joy eclipses suff’ring’s trial.

Now, just as you’ve been reconciled,

Forgive and love the same.