The Scriptures speak of Your faithful Love,
A promise fulfilled by the Lamb that was slain.
Of the Wonderful Counselor and Prince of Peace,
His blood poured out to wash my guilty stain.
Yet I persist to poison with cheap titles,
Like a mongrel to its vomit I return,
Feeding the potted plant of sin and idols,
A vessel of wrath deserving only to burn.
Still You refuse to desert this thankless bride,
You bind up my ugly gashes and wounds,
Whispering repeatedly, gently in my ear,
“You are my beloved, I will fight for you.”
Again I flee to the trench of Satan’s chastisements,
They are my constant sorrow and sick delight,
Still You come after to gather my shattered segments,
Scooping me from the pit--broken body gifted new life.
Why this Love when unrequited? Why supply me such a Gift?
Why Christ for the convicted? Why sacrifice to seal insurmountable rift?
“Grace, My child,” is all You reply,
“Justice and mercy satisfied at the Cross.
Christ crucified for sinners to Satan’s demise,
We proclaim redemption as We seek and save the lost.”
Grace and mercy suck the poison from my desperate veins,
Nail-driven Hands wipe the mess from this mutt's snout,
The Tender Farmer has uprooted death’s potted plant,
Living Water now runeth freely, rescuing soul from destined drought.
