The Bread of Life born in the House of Bread,
And heaven’s hero in the house of war.
The Word of God no mortal man has said,
Though one day old, He Is – Eternal Lord.
I beat my breast, your splendor seen.
“If you are willing, make me clean.”
And looking at my low and lurid state,
Perfection I pursue in my own might.
Impossible! My efforts ever break,
My hideous me disclosed in dreadful fright.
This horrid hell! I cry, I keen,
“If you are willing, make me clean!”
O glorious grace my God has given free!
The lordly loving babe was born to save.
Messiah is my mirror, me to see,
Accepting me – the new me that he gave.
And washed in watered, gory, bleed.
“Lord, You, The Maker, made me clean!”
O Christ, consume my guilt in Calvary’s cross,
Hie hate to hell! – the babe, forgiveness, born.
The Lord-with-us accepting every loss,
All-Justice judged – for me forgiveness formed.
The Babe who died, yet conquered King,
Said, “I am willing, son, be clean!”