Drug That Heal Wounded Grace
Grace is a free gift
That cover up all drifts
Even in its own shift
It troubles logical thefts
Truly, in problems, it seems there is no grace
Or you think many are out of space
May be its remains are of trace
Meant for those who set the pace
Working grace is for all
Just that many don't listen to its call
And leads it astray to their downfall
Yet, aligned beings get to stand tall
Someone paid for it
To let go of us- punishment
Our troubles and s
Laid down as the sheep for atonement
He died for our sakes
Without complaining of aches
Yet, for us; wines and breads, he bakes
And our destined home, he makes
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