Reservation

Search me oh God, and make me pure,
With memory of my sin, which you bore.
Up on a cross of blood and shame
You died, received scorn to revise my name.
You, someone so perfect, without flaw,
Enabled me to receive my call.
My consistent sin, of me, I detest,
But to God is forgotten, for your distress.
This gift to me, I do not deserve,
Though the right to take back, you reserve.

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