Clothed in Love

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Clothed In Love

How do You see us, Lord?

These creatures, whom You’ve made?

When You look on Your creation,

Do You see how we’re arrayed?

You gave each creature covering,

Feathers, or fur on their skin,

Yet man alone, was left to wear,

Your glory, from within.

The human form, to You was good,

So pure and undefiled,

It’s certain, as You gazed on them,

Your Father face, it smiled.

No evil thought had marred its form,

No lust nor stain of sin,

The purity that glowed without,

Reflected from within.

Yet, clad in just Your glory,

Man chose to turn away,

He thought that he would be as You,

That fateful, sin-filled, day.

One fruit from the tree of knowledge,

One choice to ‘just disobey’,

And suddenly, what he saw round him,

He saw in a different way.

Rebellion had banished Your glory,

Had left them alone in their skin,

As he looked on himself and his woman,

He saw only the shame of their sin.

It wasn’t his body that shamed him,

These bodies so wonderfully made,

But now, as he looked, he saw something,

That made him ashamed and afraid.

He saw he was naked without You;

Naked and open to sin,

Till You in Your mercy, You clad him,

You clothed him in animal skin.

But sin had been given dominion,

To reign in this world he’d now roam,

No longer the Garden of Eden,

A reflection of Your heavenly home.

A world that was cruel and barren,

Where hatred would often run free,

Where man, was less led by Your Spirit,

Than led by the things he could see.

You looked on Your children so straying,

You looked on Your children, so lost,

You chose that once more You would clothe them,

You knew of the terrible cost.

You poured out Your blood, never stinting,

For only its power could wash clean,

That all who would choose to wash in it,

Would be as first Adam had been.

Your Blood forms a cloak of Your glory,

To wrap us, and make us complete,

And wearing this cloak that You give us,

We’re welcome to bow at Your feet.

We’re welcome to come to Your Presence,

To walk up beside You, and sit;

We’re seated in heavenly places,

With Christ, for His Blood made us fit.

It’s not man-made clothes we are wearing,

No clothing is pure in Your eye,

For we cannot cover our sinning,

No matter how hard we may try.

The cover that You are requiring,

The one that will cover our mess,

Is the one that You paid with Your life for,

The cloak, of Your Son’s, righteousness.

© 13-14/4/04