Washed in his blood and forgiven all absolutes,
Here I stand saved and sanctified,
Sticks and stones the enemy hurls at me
Yet I forge on in this pilgrim’s journey
Perfection is the goal, crown of glory the prize,
The future seems bleak, my faith yet rises
Hope birthed in me like a ray of light in darkness
The savior is ever near and faithful
He has no record of failure
I cling on tightly to his hem, sailing to glory
Of this I must certainly tell
As my inward parts cannot withhold
The laudation my heart seems to render
The mercy of our God is real
Birthing salvation for the lost soul
His forgiveness and pardon are absolute
Shall I tell of him further? How can I not tell.
Hear ye people, how great is my God!
I ride on the wings of grace
Clothed with favour as with a shield
Showered with blessings and led by the Spirit
Loved divinely and exceedingly above all human comprehension
An Ingrate shall I be if I tell not
My God, your love I proclaim to the ends of the earth
Shall ye tell it further or not?
Go tell it on the mountain, over the hills and valleys
Let it be heard in Africa, Asia and all the lands
His death was final and the price paid in full
Alas, victory is ours by reason of His resurrection.
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A poem by: Bamisebi Adetiloye
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