Twisted Man Upon that Tree

You are the twisted Man upon that tree,

And I am one of the guilty.

No innocence of my own—

Only a receiver of unmerited mercy.

I have no claim to rightness,

Only let me stand

Among the ones covered in Your blood.

Only that Your eyes would see and know me,

Only that to You I would be pleasing.

O twisted Man upon that tree,

Cover me in crimson flood;

Wrap Your righteousness around me, undeserved.

Make me like You in Your mercy.

I’ve made my home among the flowers and the trees;

I know they do not lie about Your heart.

Their poured forth speech assures me:

You tenderly receive me.

I am enough.

Not for my own righteousness or efforts,

But for royal blood and fountain streaming free.

My boast is ever in bloodied wood

And holy wounds of the only Innocent One.

Blessed am I to stand here,

Among the lowly ones who sing and weep—

Who joyfully receive what could never be earned,

Who rejoice over mercy underserved.

No longer I who live;

It is Christ who lives in me.

My life, my all, my everything—

Is He who loved me, and gave Himself for me.

My Beloved will ever be

The twisted Man upon that tree.