Poetry Saturday—Confession

Horatius BonarNo, not despairingly 
Come I to Thee; 
No, not distrustingly 
Bend I the knee; 
Sin hath gone over me, 
Yet is this still my plea, 
Jesus hath died. 
Ah, mine iniquity 
Crimson has been; 
Infinite, infinite, 
Sin upon sin; 
Sin of not loving Thee, 
Sin of not trusting Thee. 
Infinite sin. 
Lord, I confess to Thee 
Sadly my sin; 
All I am, tell I Thee, 
All I have been. 
Purge Thou my sin away, 
Wash Thou my soul this day; 
Lord, make me clean! —Horatius Bonar
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