Jehovah, like an artist, first began,
By roughly sketching His salvation’s plan.
The law in symbol, shadow, and out-line,
Would be memorial and as a sign.
For it could never fully cleanse our sin,
But must be done again and yet again.
And so the Father painted in the lines,
With flesh and blood the portrait He designed.
For God who spoke the Law now spoke once more,
His final Word, His Son who would restore:
This vibrant shape foreshadowed in the sketch,
Who was, and is, and who is coming yet.
God did not want the guts of slaughtered sheep,
But His desire is to make us clean.
He takes no pleasure in the blood of beasts,
But in His holy Bride is He well-pleased.
His will was never endless sacrifice,
But sons and daughters of the blood of Christ.
The portrait of salvation which God made –
Before the footings of the earth were laid –
He paints with blood and sinews of a man:
The incarnation was His perfect plan.
The Law was letters scribbled into stone,
In Christ God wrote again in flesh and bone,
To fill the nature which His law had lacked,
From contract to a personal contact.
The sketch has vanished in the final art,
The Law became a beating, human heart.
If dumb and mortal beasts can cleanse,
Through blood and ashes of a lamb,
What greater cleansing of our sins,
Comes through the one immortal Word,
Both very God and very man?
So wash yourself by Jesus’ grace.
Receive the promise He gives free.
Because His death has taken place,
He mediates for our release,
To bless us through eternity.
The promise ratified by death,
And validated by God’s blood,
That Jesus’ grace may take effect,
Apart from any work we’ve done,
This signatory of His blood.
All praise we render to the Lord,
As we remember what He’s done.
The blood of promise He out-poured,
Let us rehearse that sacrament,
He all our crimson sins expunged.
The holy place was shrouded,
And veil-concealed in mystery pressed.
In glory it was clouded,
And yet to none made manifest.
Yet there was still a way in
Concealed from every human eye
That holy place God stayed in,
Hiding the face of the Divine.
The parables of symbols,
Have hid the way which led within.
The priests in vain assemble,
Their duty in repeating them.
Yet this was not forever,
For God had planned to make it plain,
These ritual endeavors,
All pointed to the perfect way.
And in the Christ revealing,
The way that passes through the veil.
The wrath of God repealing,
Where sacrifice before had failed.
His blood then is the pavement,
That brings us to the holy place.
His sacrifice the statement,
To enter and behold His face.