All of these treasures
buried with me in the tomb
gave way to robbers,
leaving only rotten fumes.
The hoarded delight
once stole my might,
and traded it for wisdom
seen only in hindsight.
Oh, what a wretched man
I have been.
Oh, that I found
delight in my sin.
Is this heart too
late to mend?
Or can the bruises
further rend—
pulling apart
the poison
from the heart?
I stand above
these empty things—
and this is what I fought?
My hands were full
of useless glitter,
and while I filled them,
my soul did wither.
Like the garden,
the snake still slithers,
and I listened
to his whispers.
But now the heel
has crushed the head.
I am alive,
though I was dead.
I see I made my bed,
surrounded by
all of these shiny things.
Yet still You gave me another,
and removed the pain—
for now I lose the world,
and count it as gain.
The eyes deceive
based on what
the heart desires.
Though they seem harmless,
many pretty things
lead to fire.
My own faculties conspired
against my soul,
but surrender
to my Savior
was the only thing
that made me whole.
And now He gives
many beautiful treasures—
but none of them
are meant to be the goal.
No, that is left
for only His glory to behold:
to seek only Him
in all things—
I’ll no longer buy
the lie they sold.
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