Written by K.A.R.

It’s when He sees me coming,
Though I’m very, very slow,
And my head (the way I’m hanging it)
Is very, very low.

It’s when I feel I’ve been
A disappointment to my God,
When I’ve chosen sin and shame again
To walk amidst the fog

Of those empty, broken cisterns
I’ve slaved over like a dog.

It’s then He opens up the door
And rushes out the gate,
Though the prodigal He’s waited for
Is very, very late.

It’s then He twirls me right around,
Just picks me up as though
I had never turned away from Him,
Like I was white as snow—

Though in my shame I struggle,
He never lets me go.

Even so, there are some times
When my small mind can’t wrap around large grace,
So I prefer pretending
I’ve been righteous all the way.

When, feeling like an idiot,
I turn to call His name,
He’s always right there waiting—
Every moment just the same.