As I look upon the bread and wine
I remember what they mean,
Your body broken,
The anguish and pain,
Your precious blood spilt
In suffering and shame.
Yet,
They could not force You to bear our sin.
IT WAS LOVE.

As I take and eat the bread,
Remembering Your sacrifice.
The thorny crown
That pierced Your brow,
Until pierced and broken
They knew You were dead.
Yet,
They could not force You there to die.
IT WAS LOVE.

As I drink the precious wine,
Remembering the blood You shed.
The pierced hands,
Your feet and side,
The cold dark tomb
They put You inside.
Yet,
They could not force You into hell.
IT WAS LOVE.

As I look upon the bread and wine,
I rejoice as I recall
An empty tomb,
Victory,
Eternal life,
A chance to be free.
Yet,
You only asked one thing of me.
IT WAS LOVE.

John 10v11-18.

by Georgina Smith