Perhaps a sister, I'm not sure, 
Sent word to Christ for me. 
She told Him that I walk in death. 
I pray Lord, come and see. 
He came upon the sullen scene,
Where, none, true faith, had kept.
His Spirit groaned inside of Him.
And then sweet Jesus wept.
He could have waved His mighty arm
And done it on His own. 
Instead, He stood before my heart,
And said, Remove the stone.
I pushed it back and stood in shame 
Of stench that dwelt inside.
The smell of hate and lust and death.
I'd thought that I could hide.
He prayed, and said, My child, come forth.
And God was glorified.
He snatched me from the hands of death.
And Satan was denied.
He bade the church, Remove the ties,
With which the world had bound.
And feed me with the Word of God.
That fruitfulness abound.