The Picture

There is a picture that hangs in the halls of heaven.
It's of a wooden cross on which my name is written,
etched in the blood of the One who hung there,
stripped of His glory; and His flesh laid bare.

My name is there as the one who was really to blame
for the torment, the pain, the agony, and the shame;
born by the One who suffered in my place,
the One from which God had to hide His face.

When God looks upon that picture and there my name sees,
His face shines with glory as He beckons towards me,
"Come, My child, your name is written in blood
that Jesus shed as a sign of My love."

"You have been justified, cleansed of all sin and all blame.
You're washed in the blood of My Son and saved through His name.
Do not fear; there's no penalty to pay.
Come home, My dear child, come to Me today."

Copyright  © 2006 by Karen M. Crump

© Copyright 2009 Karen (UN: armorbearer at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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