O God, be merciful to me,
A sinner with no claim to plea.
I come with hands both bare and weak,
No righteousness I dare to speak.
I walked my roads, I chose my way,
Trusted my thoughts by night and day.
Yet through my noise, my pride, my shame,
You spoke in grace and called my name.
I wore my pride like armor bright,
And hid my wounds away from sight.
Each step I took without Your care
Led further from Your healing glare.
You see the truth beneath my breath,
My quiet fears, my hidden depth.
You meet me low, You meet me here,
With love that casts away my fear.
If You count sins, who then could stand?
If You withdraw Your gentle hand?
Yet mercy pours, unearned, unplanned,
And hope is born where grace commands.
So God, be merciful to me,
Wash what my eyes refuse to see.
I seek no throne, no crown, no fame—
Just grace enough to know Your name.
On bended knee my heart confesses,
I am broken, I am restless.
Let mercy find me where I lie,
And lift my soul where faith runs dry.
I leave my shame where mercy stays,
And rise made new by saving grace.
O God, be merciful to me—
For in Your mercy, I am free
MARYANN BOSAH 