I know the wicked man Devises every plan From deep within his heart To from you then depart. His steps and ways are dark, Ne’er to correction hark, Ne’er does he love the good But sups on wicked food. Yet such a man awaits Eternally dark fate Come from the hand of God, By holy feet he’s trod. But should my heart rejoice When silence you their voice? Should face break out in grin When they are judged for sin? I know oppression ends When judgment you will send, Then righteous men are free To seek and follow thee. But even so, my Lord, Please will you stay your sword And help the wicked men To seek your heart again? For in the glass I spy A dark and vile eye That seeks not beauty’s face But ways to thwart your grace. From bent desire’s root Comes putrid rotten fruit. Yet out from eye’s dark pools Trickles the tears of fools, A fool who knows his life Is filled with evil strife And wants so much to change, Like me—is that so strange? Lord, each of your dark foes Like me they once did grow From innocent, sweet boys Who climbed and played with toys. They searched and then explored, Found ways that you deplored, And from that fruit did taste A juice of inner waste. But is it deadly sure That you cannot still cure Their deadly dark disease And bring them to their knees? For nothing more than hope, Please stay the hangman’s rope. Hope that a future day Will see them find their way Back to a child’s state When on you they will wait And to your arms they’ll run And called by you a son, Then bitter fool’s tears turn From regret’s stinging burn Into a joyful flow In steadfast love’s sweet glow.