He speaks in a whisper, rarely a shout;
His arms are Comfort; He drives away Doubt.
His Word is a sword, sharp and sheet;
His hands, always open, are warm and dear.
He came for sinners, the vilest of all;
Those ready to listen and heed His call.
He came to live, an example to be;
Then surrendered everything to die on a tree.
He lived and died for vast mankind,
Bound in world-chains, hopeless and blind.
His Rescue of Mercy and Grace displayed,
Shattered Death's plan -- man's debt was paid!
He sits now on Heaven's righteous throne,
Awaiting the Day He shall bring us Home.
Who is He? This Lord of Above?
He is my God -- a Man called Love.
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Poem written by me, Sarah.
Photo via Pinterest. Words Photoshopped by Sarah (with exception of "love").
Happy Monday!
Sarah
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