So deep I’d felt my lover’s knife
So high my dungeon’s wall
Always a whore never a wife
Always at beck and call
Though ravaged, hurt abused inside
Heart torn with awesome pain
Christ claimed me as His virgin bride
And gave me hope again
He stripped me of my filthy gown
In blood He steeped me whole
He gave to me Salvation’s crown
And saved my wretched soul
Saved from destruction, rescued from hell
My eyes now trained above
I’m wise to Satan, the wares he’d sell!
Within the hands of love
He’s intimate with great and small
Their weakness ever wise
Eager seducing God would call
So glad to take them prize
Even God’s house is not without
Not few still bear his name
With pride he clouds their heads with doubt
Infesting hearts with shame
Beware the church those born-again
Is truly Christ your head?
There’s no one safe from Satan’s reign
Man’s flesh is never dead
We need God’s Son, His shield of Light
His armour made for war
I know in Christ we’ll win the fight
For “I” was Satan’s whore
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem