The works that you do don’t count

No matter how busy, how much good you do

The works that you do don’t count


You can wear yourself out

Neglect all your friends

Fall down by exhaustion consumed

Yet it’ll have no effect

Like giving your body to be burned


You lack the foundation

The one sure and true

The repentance from self

To which God always woos


You’re lost in a spider’s web

Of delusion


The works that you do

Are wood, stubble, and hay

No lasting fruit will they yield

For You’ve built your house upon the sand

Of activity, programs, and zeal


You’ve read the Bible

You’ve figured it out

You know what He requires

You’re doing it all

The best way you can

Sure that He’ll overlook your failures


The trouble with that

Dear friend, kind and true,

Is that the whole law you must keep.

Or else you must lay yourself down

In the dust at His feet.


Your worthlessness,


Clear you must see

And repent of, too,

while you’re there.

And then Jesus,

Will come in the door of your heart

His life will He live out, there

Inside you, the Rock you will have found


Our job is joy

Our work is belief

Our occupation to trust Him all day.

For He will accomplish the work to be done

He will deliver, unbind


What kind of madmen have we become

That we think that we do the work?

When Jesus is God Who came here and died

Salvation to give free to us?


Kaylyn Turner 1993

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