In the hour my Savior comes back for me,
Be it soon or years from today,
I know not what or where I will be.
I know not the words I will say.
Will I be mid-song, praising His name
As I ponder His glorious grace?
Or will the sound from my lips be cause for shame
The moment I see His face?
Will He come as I give an encouraging word
To a needy soul like my own?
Or will He hear my sharp tongue cut like a sword
The hour His presence is known?
When He looks upon me, what will I be viewing?
Something pure that brings glory to Him?
Or will my treacherous eyes be hotly pursuing
Bloodstained images of filth and sin?
When He grasps my servant hands in His own
Will they be calloused with the work I have done?
Or will they be soft, my idleness shown -
My empathy made clear for the Son?
When He speaks to my family, friends, and connections
Will their witness of me be sound?
Or will they deny ever seeing His reflection
In my life when they were around?
When His faultless light shines on this heart –
And reveals its true intentions
Will anything stand, or will all fall apart –
False righteousness of my own invention?
When Christ returns, will my effort be cherished?
Or will it all be as filthy cloths?
Will I radiate confidence, or become embarrassed,
For the time I have wasted and lost.
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