Thou hast imputed my sin to my substitute,
to my soul,
clothing me with a bridegroom's robe,
decking me with jewels of holiness.
But still in my Christian walk I am still in rags;
my best prayers are stained with sin;
my penitential teas are so much impurity; my confessions of wrong are so many
aggravations of sin;
my receiving the Spirit is tinctured with
selfishness.
I need to repent of my repentance;
I need my tears to be washed;
I have no rob to bring to cover my sins,
no loom to weave my own righteousness;
I am always standing clothed in filthy garments,
and by grace am always recieving change of
raiment,
for thou does always justify the ungodly;
I am always going into the far country,
and always returning home as a prodigal,
always saying, Father, forgive me,
and thou art always bringing forth
the best robe.
Every morning let me wear it,
every evening return in it,
go out to the day's work in it,
be married in ti,
be wound in death in it,
stand before the great white throne in it,
enter heaven in it shinning as the sun.
Grant me never lose sight of
the exceeding sinfulness of sin,
the exceeding righteousness of salvation,
the exceeding grace of Christ,
the exceeding beauty of holiness,
the exceeding wonder of grace.
From Valley of Vision, Puritan Prayers and Devotions
