Ashes, ashes in my hands
Remnants of my perfect plans
Sifting through my fingers like
Tiny particles of sand.
Ashes, ashes all my life
Filled with fear, remorse and strife
Filling up my empty days
Cutting through me like a knife.
Ashes, ashes all is well
Fragments of the fires of hell
Bringing me to peace and hope
Making me an empty shell.
Ashes, ashes death to me
The fire sent to heal and free
Cleanse me from my selfish way
So Your Glory all will see.
To appoint unto them that mourn in Zion, to give unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; that they might be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the LORD, that he might be glorified.                                                                   Isaiah 61:3