His Cross is chisel to my heart
To chip away my dross;
One greater than my heart imparts
Himself at His own cost.
He sees in me His image made
The moment I’m conceived,
Yet I am born beneath sin’s shade;
For my true self I grieve.
I pine for Him to re-make me
And call forth who’s within;
I long to Him to bend my knee
As He saves me from sin.
Then from the granite of my heart
Emerges my true self:
The Master Sculptor’s work of art
Returned to Eden’s health.
PROCLAIMING TRUTH! 