Come plow my soul with wooden Cross,
Uproot the brambles of my sin,
As my old self I’ve finally lost
And good crop can be sown again.
Then plant in me your own true vine
That I may grow a branch from you,
Then irrigate with Blood, ’twas wine,
And feed me with your Body, too.
May each day I behold your face
Unique in everyone I meet;
We’re all with Mary full of grace
As we bow at your mercy seat.
PROCLAIMING TRUTH! 