Mended and Commended

(A Poetic Pace on Wondrous Grace)

"The woman said to Him,
'Sir, give me this water
so that I won't get thirsty....'"
(John 4:15a, NIV)
.
Plunging wound, I needed healing,
Gangrene growing, blood congealing,
Flesh escaping in a haze,
I recounted all my days.
.
Laden with a load, I sorrowed;
Ill-contentment, bought and borrowed.
Inner scorn my truest friend;
Trying hard, truth to suspend.
.
Then a flash flew through my soul;
Truth and grace were my parole.
Who could love me fully such,
Heal me wholly with His touch?
.
'Twas the Master Healer, He,
Who designed eternity,
Looking deep into my dark,
With His holy healing spark.
.
All I know is this: He came.
My Redeemer called my name,
Took my claim to blame and shame,
And I will never be the same.