Who edited the script of my life?
Who wrote in this stuff I never intended?
How did it ever get to be so dark?
Why have I become a villain, condemned?
Then I look again . . .
. . . and a blood-red pen
Strikes through all my gravest errors;
And while the plot
May be kind, or not,
May continue to twist and turn,
I know it finishes happily:
An ancient death giving life eternally,
My soul saved with Christ’s family,
Praising my God forever in Heaven.