"Let It Be Known" by Wesley Tyler Robinson

Not one to be eloquent with words, please, allow me to be direct;
I have been evil since birth, and sin found in me a great prospect.
In thought and deed I rebelled against the King's decree,
Raised my fist in hatred, but never in plea for mercy.

So what changed?

Why is there a Name above all names,
Which I would die to give fame?
What is it that I cherish more than my own breath?
More than my family?
Of what would I willingly go to death?

And why?

 Though I loved my idols to my shame,
Christ came.
The only One who could take my blame,
The only One who made me change to never be the same.

Knowing I would hate Him, He still came in the flesh,
He still lived a perfect life and died the death
I deserved,
And to my rotten corpse of a soul, gave breath and preserved.

Only by the grace I was shown could I make joy my own,
Only the King of Kings made a man like me,
Kill my flesh daily, to the point that I suffer and bleed.
Only this God-man could make my hate recede.

Only He could take a weak, filthy criminal like me,
And make a metaphorical soldier to fight for His glory every day of the week.
I am not perfect.
No seriously, I'm not.
Sometimes in sin I'm caught, but my conscience is led to repentance,
And this same King cleanses me, even though I sin in every sentence.

Let it be known that I am only alive to this day,
I am only still here to say,
One thing;
We are all evil, and this life is not a movie but it has a sequel.
For there is death and then the judgement,
From the Triune God who's laws are perfect.
So please look to said laws,
Figure out you're dirty and lost,
And then see the Holy Lamb who hung on the Cross,
And rose again so we'd never be lost.

"Simple Magnificence" by Wesley Tyler Robinson

He is magnificent.

From every sunrise to sunset,
Every bit of dust, every mote and spec,
Every redemption story,
Serves only to show the King's glory.

Every bird flock over the dock,
Every small child drawing in chalk,
Causes all of me to see,
The beauty of Christ who created the breeze.

Every scar and knife wound,
Every action deserving the tomb,
Makes my affections inflate,
For the Lord of whom my sin did take.

Every hymn of grace I hear,
Every loved one I hold dear,
Calls my heart to behold the sea,
Of love from Christ who rose for me.