The Architect

Like a father to a son, all that's mine is always Yours.
The stars of heaven mourn for what's to come.
I hear a lover's song inviting me away.
I know the first heart that breaks isn't mine but Yours.
I know now all things, they must pass but oh the cost.
How can I ask to know what forgiveness is while my hands are still tied with guilt and the filth of mistrust?
My hands have built the cross.
How can I ever look into Your eyes when my hands will nail You down?
How can I ask to know what forgiveness is when it's my hands that built the cross?
How can I account for this?
How can I just walk away?
There's a flame that still lights the gate