Two men went up into the temple to pray
One a Pharisee and the other a tax collector.
The Pharisee, standing by himself, prayed thus:
‘God, I thank you that I am not like other men
Extortioners, unjust, adulterers
Or even like this tax collector.’
‘I fast twice a week
I give tithes of all that I get.’
But the tax collector, standing far off
Would not even lift up his eyes to heaven
But beat his breast, saying:
‘God, be merciful to me, a sinner!’
I tell you, this man went down to his house justified
Rather than the other
For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled
But the one who humbles himself will be exalted.
Oh mercy fall on me
Like a warm blanket
On my cold, cold heart
Clean me with your blood
That turns me white on the inside
I’m on my knees again
Because I’m breaking
Your heart
Put in me what I cannot buy with gold
Put in me, O God–come restore my broken soul
Put in me what I cannot give myself
Put in me a clean heart
I know all my broken places
Like the back of my hand
I slapped Your face again
Wash me in your love
And hold me tight like a baby
With no memory
Of ever breaking Your heart
Put in me what I cannot buy with gold
Put in me, O God–come restore my broken soul
Put in me what I cannot give myself
Put in me a clean heart
Put in Me (Psalm 51)
100 Portraits and Waterdeep, on Enter the Worship Circle (Broken link, active July 1, 2005)
As always, your posts are a delight and an encouragement to read.
🙂 jen