by Ambrose Oyamo

Created on: November 25, 2010

Why I Sing

As the bloody thirty pieces of silver

Afforded the potter's field, where he threw away

What was a broken piece, what was unnecessary

So the Lord has purchased us with His blood

To be a people who were once not a people.

It is the blood-stained Cross on a hill

The empty royal tomb by the terrified guards,

It is the tender voice of the angel, "He's not here, He's risen"

The nail-pierced marks on His hands and feet,

That compiles and completes my adoption procedure.

He no longer calls me a servant, He calls me a son

That the life I now live, I live unto Him

Having given me a body to offer as a living sacrifice,

I therefore determine to offer sacrifice of praise and thanks

The adversary may strike my heel, but that's only an incentive to crush its head.

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