POINT:
MY LORD, were your nails ever blue,
did splinters impale you?
MY LORD, were the workdays long,
did someone mock and yell when they thought you did wrong?
MY LORD, were your tools true and good,
to better fashion the wood?
MY LORD, did anyone offer their help,
when the work’s strain you felt?
MY LORD, were you paid a right wage,
when you labored in that age?
MY LORD, were you thinking of my sin,
when each new workday did begin?
COUNTERPOINT:
MY LORD, amidst the agony, rusty nails true blue,
impaled flesh and wood, a sacrifice so true.
A symbol of love, redemption’s hue,
in that cruel moment indeed, grace broke through.
MY LORD, those long hours on the tree,
when they mocked and yelled at thee.
MY LORD, your dear Holy Spirit,
that molds such as revereth.
MY LORD, your Body as one,
carrying burdens now and anon.
MY LORD, the treasure of inheritance,
won by your loving perseverance.
MY LORD, these forever wash away my sin,
holy communion with thee usher in.
…
MY LORD, thank you for condescending to come to this earth,
for your labor of rebirth.