Your Feet

       

 

 

Your feet are bronze,

 

Trampling the  wicked nations,

 

Judging them for yourself,

 

Wherever your feet shall trod.

 

They are beautiful too, as your laborers spread good news,

 

On the mountaintops and the plains,

 

Heralding Your own salvation,

 

For all mankind.

 

Pierced for our transgressions,

 

Your feet nailed to the wood,

 

Suffering brokeness and crushing,

 

For us, your feet were made lame. (But you were never defeated.)

 

Conquering feet and lowly feet,

 

All at the same time,

 

You washed our feet,

 

You served us well,

 

So ours could be clean, as Thine.

 

Resurrected feet,

 

Walking on glory clouds,

 

Serving our Father above,

 

Divine feet, surrendered feet,

 

Going wherever He leads.

 

Beautiful feet, perfumed feet,

 

Washed by the woman's oil,

 

Nothing too costly for Your loving feet,

 

Nothing, nothing, nothing.