The House of My Soul

The house of my soul
Needs to be sound-proofed,
My tormented groaning,
Sounds of maturing,
Tells of my agony,
Tells me I’m growing.

The house of my soul,
With hardwood flooring
And walls that are flimsy,
He’ll totally destroy
Before new construction
Can ever begin.

Thus am I groaning.
I see my old sins
Parade past the Father.
But then, I’m forgiven?
I shout, “Hallelujah!
His mercy is mine!

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