He made Himself
But clothed in flesh
Supreme I AM
In his image
Became a Lamb
Who can explain
Such humble mercy?
Love unrestrained
Beneath hatred’s blow
Who can explain
Compassion so perfect
As agony wept
Sweet incomprehension
I cannot grasp it
A King leaves His throne
To die on a cross
So we, wretched men
Like stars in the heavens
May pierce hatred’s darkness
As He shines through us
How I abhor
My rebellious nature
As I consider
God; putting on
Man’s filthy stature
Majesty serving
The hand with a sword
Immaculate Offering
Seals our redemption
Atonement of sin
To tell of His grace
May I never grow weary
To tell of His love
Where can I begin?
For He made Himself
Of no reputation
Clothing in flesh
Supreme I AM
Nothing desirable
In His image
Love Immortal
Became a Lamb
© Janet Martin
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