Clothed

I was kneeling on holy ground,
Beneath the Judge’s stand,
They asked me where my clothes came from;
I pointed to the Lamb.

“My clothing comes from His sweet name,”
I spoke with trembling lips,
“I’m sorry about all the stains,”
O God of Righteousness.

“They happened when I saw His cross,
And gory nakedness,
That’s where He took my clothes away,
Then gave me these for dress.

He told me never to despair,
Or fear the dark abyss,
But I know these aren’t mine to wear,
I’ve earned a death like His.”

The gavel sounded in the Court,
As I knelt by the throne,
Wearing clothes I could not afford,
With stains that weren’t my own.

Behind the lines

I will greatly rejoice in the LORD;
my soul shall exult in my God,
for he has clothed me with the garments of salvation;
he has covered me with the robe of righteousness,
as a bridegroom decks himself like a priest with a beautiful headdress, and as a bride adorns herself with her jewels. (Isaiah 61:10 ESV)

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