Christ, the Grace Undeserved
Here is another poem from ‘Come all ye weary‘. Pre-book now to get a 20% discount for when the book releases early next year.
How could it be That on this wretched land The Holy One was pleased To extend his healing hand? Where not one was pure In their tongue or deed Dead in our sin Like dry bones for demons feed. Hatred and hostility were Our tributes to this King Our hearts like catacombs With nothing good to bring. The light was our enemy, Revealing what we concealed His glory threatened our darkness, Once for all, sealed. Those who dwelt in darkness Had seen a great light Yet we could not recognise him, Sin blinding our sight. Brighter than the sun, Wrapped in swaddling clothes While we were yet sinners, Descended Heaven’s rose. How could it be That the Lord of heaven and earth Was laid in a lowly manger Upon his long foretold birth? The King whose robes Had filled the heavenly temple Now cradled his head In the arms of the simple. The light of the world Stepped down into darkness To turn our hearts That were seared by our sinfulness. Born to us, the true And better Adam was he Who failed not to keep His Father’s word so that we Could be the generation Of those who are born again Our former resistance And hostility to God now slain. For thus God loved us That he gave his begotten Son That we who believe in him Shall eternal life have won. How could it be That the Prince of Peace was bruised With thorns and sticks, And a cross not refused? Pleased to be numbered Among those that were lost He found them and kept them By paying a high cost Forsaking to grasp The high dignity of divinity He clothed himself with flesh Adorned in humility Christ hungered and toiled In the world he created Although to God he was And is always equated Even to the cross, He obeyed the will of his Father From the ends of the earth, From every tribe to gather Those whom he chose To redeem from sin’s seduction By bearing their sin And drinking of God’s destruction. How could it be The stone is forever removed From the grave of those Who descend with Christ? O Death where is your sting, Where is your victory? For the Lamb has risen, The author of history Raising us with him For the eternal rewards In full assurance, We strive as faithful stewards. He walked up to the Ancient Doors And knocked As all creation in heaven stood Riveted, shocked No man had ever come this far Or touched this wall. But when his voice was heard, The thunderous call “Open you Ancient Doors For the King of Glory to enter” Heaven opened to all For whom Christ is the centre.