The Branch and The Vine
He came from Home on Heaven’s throne
To walk this sod for me.
The humble climb, that mighty Vine,
He made with rugged tree.
On top the Hill, His blood, it spilled
And dripped on sod I stood.
The Vine it reached—this branch to seek,
Beneath those beams of wood.
I gazed up there into His stare,
His eyes a blazing red,
God’s vengeance sure midst blood so pure,
My soul as good as dead.
But then I heard, my spirit stirred,
These words of deepest Love. . .
“Forgive her here, this Daughter near,
She knows not what she does.”
For me, I see, He’s on that tree,
Great Vine pierced through and through.
So He could save and I could praise
With words …“I love you too!”
His Vine wrapped strong my branch’s song
Of sick and sin-drenched shame,
Then made it new like morning dew,
With notes to ring His Name.
Now branch and Vine—they intertwine
And grow in Harmony.
T’was on that sod sweet Vine of God
Gave Life to branch, to me.
by Heather Huffman
Good Friday, April 18, 2014
- When Grace Finds Us . . .
- Birthday Wishes Made Real