Rags to riches

I wrote a poem at hopeweavers the other day.  My story, and I believe the story of all who share the Christian faith.


All-seeing God, I tremble low
My face towards the ground,
My filthy rags in tatters worn

My soul I fear hell-bound.

And at the point of greatest need
Destitute I scramble
His burning Holiness to great
In fear and shame, I tremble.

And then, that One, with burning eyes
Whose voice is as the thunder;
He comes so near, I fear I'll die
Bracing myself, I shudder

And yet-what grace! This mighty King
Who fashioned galaxies
He stoops so very tenderly
And lifts me to my knees.

I meet His gaze, and as I do
My stone-heart starts to melt
His liquid-love pierces my soul
Waves of washing mercy pelt.

I see the blood-red welts
Upon His hands and side,
Reminders of the bitter cost
He paid to save my life.

He takes a garment clean and white
As dazzling as the sun;
His pure and Holy righteousness
On ME He puts it on!!!

He carries me- lame as I am
At His table now I sit
A feast He's laid before me
And invites me now to eat.

From pauper now to princess
A true rags-to-riches tale
Nothing can snatch me from His grasp
His love will never fail....