When the world, and God's Word clashes,
I have been reduced to sackcloth and ashes.
What shame and pain to be in disgrace,
Without God's Guidance and His Grace.
Without God's Kindness and Messiah's Hand,
To lead me to the promised land.

In my mourning, as evil reigns,
Murders scream in the street.
The godless pain is all around.
Distrust to every friend I meet.

My sins are great, as God draws near.
My eyes are tired with pain and tear.
The binding whips of the world's lashes,
Have reduced me to sackcloth and ashes.

Oh, the shame from repentence stare,
As I see the golden calf standing there.
Why should such weakness overtake,
When Christ died, Lives, and will not Forsake?

While the world has parties and elaborate bashes,
I sit alone in sackcloth and ashes.
I'd like to fly, disappear, or run,
Because even my sin doesn't feel so fun.
With all the fake smiles this world flashes,
It has reduced me to sackcloth and ashes.


Ida Rosetta Raye Johnson