I came to Him, my head bowed low
Filled with shame for all I'd done
Afraid to look into His face, afraid I'd failed and lost His love.
But, gentle was His hand on me; lifting my chin so I could see
His smile, His love, my worth to Him
Seen in the book, set open before Him.
Each page was printed of all my sin
But, blood was splashed on each of them
Then joy rose from my heart within
In Him I run....to Him I cling.
This was the second or third poem I've received. Many years ago.
Filled with shame for all I'd done
Afraid to look into His face, afraid I'd failed and lost His love.
But, gentle was His hand on me; lifting my chin so I could see
His smile, His love, my worth to Him
Seen in the book, set open before Him.
Each page was printed of all my sin
But, blood was splashed on each of them
Then joy rose from my heart within
In Him I run....to Him I cling.
This was the second or third poem I've received. Many years ago.