Behold the winter withers soon,
For see, the herald flower blooms,
To show the rebirth to ensue,
The harbinger of God’s redemption.
The advent of His coming grace,
When He appeared here, face to face,
He healed the captive and abased,
Those in the curse of sin’s affliction.
For He had come to heal the sick:
The blind and filthy in their sin,
Who had the faith to call to Him,
Through them rebuking man’s dissension.
He healed with His authority,
The King of earth and sky and sea,
But full of human empathy,
And touching people in compassion.
He healed then to restore the lost,
And to restore from sinning’s cost,
The reason, too, He took His cross:
The bonds of sinful curse unfashion.
For He has born our grief and pain,
To kill the curse was why He came,
Restoring sinners in His name,
To consummate in full redemption!
With fifty years to sell your work,
Or fifty years to buy more land,
That you may come back to your own,
And balance skillfulness of hand.
So never in your riches trust,
Or forced to endless servitude,
The Lord will bless the faithful hand,
And rich and poor He will renew.
And look out for your brother’s needs,
Redeem him from his servile state,
Reclaim the means he needs to work,
That he may still his wages make,
If God has blessed you with your wealth,
When brothers in the faith have needs,
It is God’s wealth, so mirror Him,
And use His money to redeem.
And treat the poor with honesty,
And help the ones God brings your way,
And help them stay accountable:
Relationships poverty stays.
Take no advantage of the weak,
Disciple them that they succeed.
Remember you are weak in sin,
Yet Jesus still chose to redeem.
Dost Thou, Lord, command me to bring,
An offering into Thy presence?
What gift is as sacred as Thou?
Though made up of earth’s fleshly essence?
And Thou hast been known to consume,
Who offered a gift not deemed worthy,
As Cain was expelled from his home,
Uzziah Thou struck with leprosy.
And too, Ananias was slain,
And Nadab and Abihu steaming,
The terror of giving what is stained,
The dread of Thy wrath on receiving.
For, Lord, know that we all are blind,
And spiritually also are crippled.
Refusing to see what we find,
Our mind wanders after our ripples.
Our heart ever festers in sin,
And torn, mutilated, castrated,
Our praise coming not from within,
Thus immature in what Thou hated.
In giving we’re prone to be rash,
And never then leaving a remnant.
And counting Thy gifts as our trash,
But wasted, un-thanking what Thou sent.
O me! Justly damned from Thy sight.
There is nothing good I can give Thee.
My gift is but refuse and blight,
Preparing then for Thou to kill me.
But Lord, Thou accepted me yet.
For Christ’s good to me Thou imputed.
My blemish Thou chose to forget,
Denying when devils disputed.
My heart Thou redeemed to be pure,
Accepting me seven times over.
My gift I may give ever sure,
That Thou any blemish will cover.
In thanks let me give all I can,
In wonder at what Thou hast given.
Then offered in my tainted hands,
My heart, counted holy to Heaven.