Soul Line

My blood is not the blood of Christ

Whose life was pure when he got iced.

I’m just a person, not a God.

Who lives each day on threatened sod.

And yet I truly do descend 

From those who Jesus will defend

On Judgement Day and say we’re clean

And on our own mind didn’t lean.

The spirit came and touched us all

And saved us from the early fall,

And all disciples told the next

Who at one time had been so hexed

But then were saved and born again

With freedom from a life of sin.

So something great was passed along

In breath or word or church or song

And while I’m not so innocent

And sometimes curse or angry vent,

God says that I am still his child

So killing me is nothing mild.