Being born again

Be born again the preacher cries,
come see Jesus, have new eyes.
The light is bright, the passion great,
I want to step up to the plate.

But if I step up to the plate,
then in my hands rests my whole fate.
For then the Kingdom I will see,
but will the Kingdom welcome me?

Will I be judged on my past deeds,
have I pursued just sinful needs?
I’ve lived my life for my own ends.
Is this my chance to make amends?

The decision seems an easy one,
step forward, do what should be done.
But when I’ve taken that small pace,
will I be overcome by grace?

Once my heart that flame ignites,
will I give up my human rights?
And if I fail to follow through,
will it cause a great to-do?

The answer comes in heart beats quick,
being born again, is no mean trick.
It’s no magic carpet ride,
that on your laurels you reside.

There will be choices and mistakes,
and in your progress many breaks.
But what will never, ever dim,
is that haunting memory of Him.