The Devil strikes at You in me
Where You create, redeem.
He hates the virtue he can see,
For You have made me clean.
He tries to earthly glory seek
By making me his own;
But earthly glory foul will reek—
Is weed that won’t be grown.
For in me You have sown Your crop
That weeds will not choke out,
As Spirit’s rain will on me drop
To cleanse me of my doubt.
Your truth will always shine through me,
A mirror now made clean,
So You through me they all can see
That I have been redeemed.
PROCLAIMING TRUTH! 