The Wine Press

I consider myself to be a single grape,
Prepared as fodder,
For the great wine press of life.
That being the suffering, crucifixion, and death of our Lord Jesus Christ.
I have tasted those bittersweet, red wine tears,
That produce only the finest of vintages.
And I drank that bottle to the dreg,
And I am inebriated in it.
For Your body is the true wine press, oh Lord,
And Your wine is saved for the very last.
Oh, that I may taste even one more sweet drop of that precious wine, thy blood.
And drink it new with Thee in Thy kingdom.