Conscience

You bring that fricative to my lip and teeth
when you lash at the sin that stirs beneath
    which bubbles up with one swell pop
    and sprays decay on the clean clear top.

I have it managed just so and start
to believe that I am not a part
    of the groaning mass that hurts and waits
    for freedom beyond these bars and gates.

Exposed I thus the fricative make
which hisses the downfall of all at stake;
    My kingdom crumbling, I would defend
    to my own destruction and damnation’s end.

Strike, LORD, the rasping from my soul
which breaks the surface like a mole!
    And give me true, real cleanliness
    of Jesus righteousness.

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