all the same in one sense
all are saints in progress

clad in heavy weight of sinners garb
too busy to stop and see their scars

some may hide and turn away
but we are running the same race

different ways
different pace
 
and yet He loves brokenhearted
run down, weary and afraid

and yet He raises all the lowly
cold, homeless, and unworthy

makes us shine through our tears
breathes His beauty into our fears

pulls us up so we can stand