When my eyes fall upon the broken,
Whether people or places or things,
Then I see they belong to Jesus
And I’m awed by the mercies He brings.
When the poor and the lame and the prisoner
Are scorned by the proud and the wise,
Do not walk in their path to incur the Son’s wrath -
It is they who are Him in disguise.
On a dimly lit street in a city;
In back-alleys of rank sights and smells;
There the outcast lies down in a slum-ridden town;
They’re the places where Jesus dwells.
- J. Pecoraro
No comments:
Post a Comment