a ransomed sinner

I am what I am, but that's not to be,
For all that I am opposes Thee.

My heart is diseased, my will is defiled.
The sin that I crave shows that I'm not Your child.

My righteousness proves to be nothing but rags
Soaked in my hatred, my pride, and my rage.

Wretched body of death that I call "what I am"!
I cannot escape, but pretend that I can.

"Nobody's perfect!" - but how can that ease
A spirit that's tormented by sinful disease?

What I need is a miracle, Someone to reach in
And rescue me from this vile body of sin.

I've tried to perfect, but it all comes to naught
Because sin is my nature, and with it I'm fraught.

Who's there to rescue? Who hears my plea?
The wage is death for the sin that is me!

Thanks be to God - for He's made a way
To pay for the debt that it's right that I pay.

He gave up His son, His Jesus, His self;
He walked God and man, giving up his great wealth.

The death should be mine, but he hung on a tree,
Satisfying God's wrath at dark Calvary.

The wages of sin is death - and He died - 
The God of creation cruelly crucified.

My sins are atoned, the rags white as wool -
Not of my own merit; that's what's saved my soul.

But death did not defeat the Lord of all things.
He rose from the grave and remains King of Kings.

I am what I am, but that's not to be,
Because Jesus Christ has ransomed me.