From the depths of the sea,

From the base of the bin,

From the heels within me,

Come the stems of my sin.


In the thoughts that I think,

In the words that I say,

In the juice that I drink,

Creeps the sin of my way.

The sin shows in envy.

The sin shows in hate.

The sin shows jealously,

That my soul's not first rate.


If I try to improve,

If I try to leave sin,

I'll be back in the grove,

And with God once again.


©Lynnette Schuepbach, 1967