My recognition of beauty
Doesn’t make me beautiful
My recognition of holiness
Doesn’t make me pure
I have mere eyes to see
All He’s done for me
Gifting deity for my frailty
Of this exchange, I am sure
My recognition of beauty
Doesn’t make me beautiful
My recognition of holiness
Doesn’t make me pure
I have mere eyes to see
All He’s done for me
Gifting deity for my frailty
Of this exchange, I am sure
Is this a distraction or Your plan of action
A promise fulfilled or my tainted will
A gift so wise or a clever disguise
Oh, wash these corroded scales
from my eyes
So I would see, I would decipher
How to choose wisely for my ever after
“And immediately something like scales fell from his eyes, and he regained his sight. Then he rose and was baptized;” Acts 9:18