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I, Mephibosheth


I’m called to stand before the throne
and, knowing well my countless crimes,
must stand and ponder which has caused
my lord command my presence here.

My father’s sin, ‘fore I was born,
alone would forfeit me to death,
or for my flight in youthful sins, 
a fall for which I’ve payed the price. 

I, a worthless Benjamite, 
for all my wretched wrongs, am brought
to give account without defense,
and destitute to justly die.

Yet as I fall down in the dust
I fell my judge’s steady hand,
which stoops to lift me from my grave.
He kindly calls me by my name, 

then leads me to a place prepared.
He bids me eat his bread and wine,
and that same lord, ‘gainst whom I vied,
now seats me at his noble side. 
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