CLOTHED IN LIGHT

The swaddling clothes of infancy
Envelop Him no more;
The manger could not hold Him
Nor the things that once He wore.

He took a towel and girt Himself
And washed disciples' feet;
He wore it in humility
And would make us as meek.

The purple robe that mocked Him
Lies crumpled on the floor;
They could not mar His majesty,
Of kings the King, of lords the Lord.

He seamless robe, the symbol
Of perfected humanity,
Lies underneath the cross,
His gift to you and me.

A vesture dipped in blood He wore
Who is Faithful, Who is True,
In righteousness to judge and war
And make creation new.

The tomb is dark and empty,
Save the linen cloth He wore
In death, for He is risen
And lives forevermore.

And now He clothes Himself with light,
With honor and majesty,
The mighty God, the Holy One,
Forever exalted, He.

SMITE THE ROCK

Moses smote the rock and
God reprimanded him;
He was only to have spoken -
It was a grievous sin.

Yet the Rock Himself was smitten
For sinners, we are told;
And we who once were broken
In Him are now made whole.

THERE WAS A STONE

There was a stone that covered the grave
Where the crucified Savior was lain,
After they mocked Him and shamed Him to scorn
And whipped Him and beat Him again.

After they put on His sweet the thorns
And the blood covered Him like the tide,
After they pierced Him with nails in His hands
And His feet and then hung Him to die.

There was a stone that said "Herein is death,
I have conquered the Author of Life,"
A stone that was strong as the forces of hell,
A stone that men thought would suffice.

There was a Rock that lay inside the grave
Behind the terrible stone,
A Rock that arose like the dawn when the sun
First appeared, and, oh, how it shone!

And the Rock rolled the stone away from the grave
And came forth like a lionly king,
And the grave, which was death, and hell, like the stone,
Would never more triumph again.

Is there a stone that covers the grave
Where your hopes and your dreams have been lain?
Let the Rock, which is Christ, rise within like the dawn
And you'll never know sorrow again.

For He'll roll the stone away from your life
And your heart will be wonderfully free;
For Jesus, the Rock, is the Author of Life
And together forever you'll be.

THERE WAS A STONE

There was a stone that covered the grave
Where the crucified Savior was lain,
After they mocked Him and shamed Him to scorn
And whipped Him and beat Him again.

After they put on His sweet the thorns
And the blood covered Him like the tide,
After they pierced Him with nails in His hands
And His feet and then hung Him to die.

There was a stone that said "Herein is death,
I have conquered the Author of Life,"
A stone that was strong as the forces of hell,
A stone that men thought would suffice.

There was a Rock that lay inside the grave
Behind the terrible stone,
A Rock that arose like the dawn when the sun
First appeared, and, oh, how it shone!

And the Rock rolled the stone away from the grave
And came forth like a lionly king,
And the grave, which was death, and hell, like the stone,
Would never more triumph again.

Is there a stone that covers the grave
Where your hopes and your dreams have been lain?
Let the Rock, which is Christ, rise within like the dawn
And you'll never know sorrow again.

For He'll roll the stone away from your life
And your heart will be wonderfully free;
For Jesus, the Rock, is the Author of Life
And together forever you'll be.

BETRAYED WITH A KISS

A line from a Michael Card song has stayed with me for a long time: "Only a friend can betray a friend." How must Jesus have felt when one of the twelve betrayed Him with a kiss? It was the violence of the crucifixion that killed Him, but was the tenderness of the betrayal any less violent? If He is betrayed so softly, could I, who would never dream of doing Him violence, do the same?

Peter, who had been so zealous (don't we get zealous and quote "The zeal of the Lord has eaten me up?") denied Him not once, but three times. After that we read that "All his disciples forsook him and fled."

His disciples all forsook Him but the dying thief confessed Him for who He really is. Maybe we don't really know what we'll do; maybe all we can do is ask "Lord, is it I?" It wasn't until after they received the Holy Spirit that the disciples had any kind of spiritual grit; oh, how we need that same Holy Spirit to make us into that people that will be always true to Him.


Betrayed with a kiss in the garden
By one who had long walked with Thee,
By one who had sat at Thy table,
By a disciple who knew Thee; 'twas he

Who for just thirty pieces of silver
Sold Thee to sinners to die.
'Twas not by an enemy hardened
But a friend who had known Thee, so nigh.

Denied by another disicple
Three times, saying he knew Thee not,
Forsaken by all of Thy fellows,
By Thy friends; such was Thy lot.

And I, in the hour of trial,
Will I sell Thee out? Will I lie?
Will I be the one to betray Thee
Again? O Lord, is it I?

May I then be one who is stedfast
To suffer and walk by Thy side,
To confess it is I who doth know Thee,
And to know that I never have lied

About Jesus, the true Friend of Sinners,
Who confessed to the Father my name,
Who never, no never, betrayed me;
O Lord, may I do the same.