Give up your meat, give up your right to win.
Take on the shame, behold your righteous rags.
While stepping in the foot-tracks of your sin,
The stony weight upon your back now sags.
With shoulders slumped the pathway rises on
While skeletons of yesteryear appear
And chatter with their mercies well withdrawn
The incline rises ever more severe.
Lift up thine eyes, a Savior doth preside-
A conqueror of mountains such as this.
Compassion is the gale that turns the tide
And crimson is the pathway of our bliss.
So climb we will upon the Spirit’s wing,
That at thy tomb we gather, bow and sing.