I melt in His eyes.
"But You Are Holy," I protest. How can One as holy as He even consider drawing near to me?
With eyes so tender, He softly touches my cheek.
"You are Mine," comes His reply so meek.
How is it that the God of the Universe, the King of all Glory, the Creator of the Heavens and the Earth can love me?
In humility, He came.
In compassion, He walked.
In meekness, He died.
In power, He rose.
In passion, He lives.
By fire, He loves. Me.
By fire, He loves me.
When He looks at me, my heart begins to melt, and I become undone.
"But You Are Holy," I protest. How can One as holy as He even consider drawing near to me?
With eyes so tender, He draws me into His arms.
"You are Mine," comes His reply so calm.
How is it that
the King of Kings, the Everlasting God, the Holy One of Israel, the One
who has no beginning and no end can love me?
In passion, He'll come.
In glory, He'll reign.
In righteousness, He'll judge.
In truth, He'll rejoice.
In holiness, He'll marry.
Through eternity, He'll love. Me.
Through eternity, He'll love me.
His eyes see right through me, and my all is exposed.
"But You Are Holy," I protest. How can One as holy as He even consider drawing near to me?
With eyes so
tender, He tilts up my head. Then I see His dancing eyes and joyous
smile, and I know, even in the fullness of His holiness, He loves me.
"You are holy, because you are mine," He says.
I am His, and through Him, I am holy.
