It’s almost here!

The weight of my unworthy sits heavy o'er my eyes/

My impurity holds me firm, and entrance me denies/

Holding me afar off from all the hidden places/

Keeping me yet from the glory of your wondrous faces/

I hear your voice . . . It urges/

Your alluring fragrance encourages/

Everything you are bids me draw near/

Yet still the scales o' my eyes leave things unclear/

Oh Lord! Take up your hyssop bunch and paint me crimson with your dripping love/

Take me into your flaming eye and draw out all the dross/

Perfect in me, what once you paid for, there upon the cross/

Till I can stand here golden gleaming, looking through the scarlet thread/

That I may see, and not just hear, all that you have said/

Take me through the dripping door, deeper into glory/

Till all my life sings purely of your story.