The End of Struggle

A struggle is this Christian way,
From morning to the end of day,
For I am only sinful clay.

Hard, and endless is the fight,
Only darkness only night,
Where is the promise of the light?

The tempter digs his talons deep,
Hinders me on slope so steep,
A leper, I must wail and weep.

But wait there is a promise sweet,
Jesus the Son will guide my feet,
To walk the the straight and earnest street.

He has given all I need,
For me He came to die and bleed,
For me, a bruised and wilting reed,

His death by faith to me ensures,
A hope that constantly endures,
My sin sick soul in love He cures.

The death He suffered on the cross,
Produced for me the final loss
Of all my evil, all my dross.

No more do I bewail my fate,
His power to change and heal are great;
I live in Holy Spirit state.

Thank you my God for saving grace,
That lifts me to a higher place,
Where I can look upon your face.

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