O' Lord It Was Your Blood
Lord Jesus, it was Your own blood
which spilled upon a tree. .
.
Your blood that crossed that
morbid fence
dividing You and me.
And Lord, it is your blood that
frees
us from the stain of sin,
And it is only by your blood
that we may enter in!
And Lord, Your blood is like
a rose,
its petals scattered round,
that all who choose shall live
again
in holiness where peace is found.
- Anne Bryant-Hamon
© October 17, 1998
