There’s something that afflicts my eyes
And makes it difficult to see.
Sin blurs my vision, thick like fog
And now I can’t perceive You clearly.
I need You, Father, but I fear
That You can’t see me through the haze
Although it’s not Your sight but mine
That’s hindered—I have turned my gaze
From joy eternal without measure
To empty things and fruitless pleasure
Which leave me empty, seeking more.
And as remorsefully I sigh
And think this darkness will not end
You see these scales upon my eyes
And want me to see You again.
These scales, You know, are all my sins—
My fear, my selfishness, my pride,
Anger, greed, unrighteous thoughts,
And countless other things beside.
And I will never ever see
Unless You perform surgery,
Slowly, till the scales are gone.
Skillful Surgeon, do Your work;
Take up the scalpel that You own
And use it, to make clear again
My vision, seeing Christ alone.
This operation will be painful—
Though I scream and groan and cry,
Don’t slow Your work removing sin—
This pain is how You sanctify.
And afterwards when I recover,
Give that remedy, none other
Than gospel truth, restoring sight.