As those gathered watched in wonderment,
She slipped into the room.
Her head was bowed in humbled shame
In her hands a small perfume.
Her eyes locked on the Savior's feet;
The murmuring began.
As she fell before Him kneeling,
Pent up tears now freely ran.
All she could give were her tears.
All that remained were the tears.
Forsaking sin and wasted years,
Denying guilt and binding fears,
All she could give were her tears.
As the others scorned her offering,
She wept without restrain.
Her anguish spilt before her Lord
Became a sweet refrain.
Her eyes bent with sorrow
Could not look into His face
Till with undeserved forgiveness,
She found worth within His grace.
All she could give were her tears.
All that remained were the tears.
Forsaking sin and wasted years,
Denying guilt and binding fears,
All she could give were her tears.
Then I the vile offender come
To seek the Savior's face.
My life is filled with shameful sin
Not understanding grace.
Till kneeling there before my God
With nothing left to give,
There through His love and in His strength,
Victorious I live.
All I could give were my tears.
All that remained were the tears.
Forsaking sin and wasted years,
Denying guilt and binding fears,
All I could give were my tears.
All had been given in the blood,
Washed in the all-cleansing flood.
My tears of shame were wiped away,
His grace sufficient for each day.
All had been given in the blood.
“All are lunatics, but he who can analyze his delusions, is called a philosopher.” -Ambrose Bierce
Sunday, July 23, 2006
All she could give
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1 comment:
Stephanie,
I'm glad God could use it. I wrote it in an attempt to understand something God's been teaching me about grace. I don't understand it, but my view of forgiveness changes when I realize that I come to the cross with nothing. It's all Him.
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