I am washed in the blood of an innocent Lamb,
Falling on a cross made of wood:
Weeping Father covered His eyes,
As a Lamb upon Calvary there stood.
Thunders and lightening and blackness of sky;
A God was so broken because His son was slain.
What could He do but watch him die
And bathe in the flood of His pain?
I am under conviction,
This thing is real.
What in my heart
Is this tearing I feel?
I know this is true; They put nails in his hands
To fasten him sore to the ground,
Hoping to quiet his innocent love,
By the twisting of thorns to his crown.
King of the Jews, they mocked his name
Smacking him clear in the face;
Save yourself, oh savior of men,
Where is your help, this is your end.
Then Jesus gazed upon a people so near,
A crowd so lost and dazzled in fear;
He said while lifting up the weight of his head
And slowly swallowing the salty tear –
“My God, forgive all these your tender grace
As I gaze up to your glorious face,
Hidden behind a cloud of beautiful light
Clothed with an emerald rainbow:
Then the people of this world shall see and all
Nations they will know, Your sure and still abiding
Love… Through the purest of blood does flow.
By Scott Greenlaw
Title The Blood
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