The Self
(of stubborn unbelief)

My treacherous heart
Knows not of the line
'Tween Heaven and Hell
Nor the saint and the swine

No rudder to steer
This self-seeking boat
My happiness all
That keeps me afloat

The eye of my soul
Turned away from The Christ
And inward again
To drink deep at last

Of my glory and splendour
For deserving I am
Of the worship I cherish
The pleasures I plan

And as many you make
Petitions with tears
They'll not break through
My cold, deafened ears

For I'll never forsake
My glory and throne
For any or other
Than my will, my own

But the day will arrive
When I expect it the least
That day when I
Will not taste of the feast

When the God who was slain
Makes it dreadfully clear
That deserving I am
Of his wrath that draws near.