Hanging On A Tree

Me:  Are you hanging out in that tree?

Prodigal:  Yep, and why don’t you share with me.

 

In evil long I took delight,

Unawed by shame or fear,

Till a new object struck my sight,

And stopp’d my wild career:

 

I saw One hanging on a Tree

In agonies and blood,

Who fix’d His languid eyes on me.

As near His Cross I stood.

 

Sure never till my latest breath,

Can I forget that look:

It seem’d to charge me with His death,

Though not a word He spoke:

 

My conscience felt and own’d the guilt,

And plunged me in despair:

I saw my sins His Blood had spilt,

And help’d to nail Him there.

Alas!  I knew not what I did!

But now my tears are vain:

Where shall my trembling soul be hid?

For I the Lord have slain!

 

A second look He gave, which said,

“I freely all forgive;

This blood is for thy ransom paid;

I die that thou may’st live.”

Thus, while His death my sin displays

In all its blackest hue,

Such is the mystery of grace,

It seals my pardon too.

 

With pleasing grief, and mournful joy,

My spirit now is fill’d,

That I should such a life destroy,

Yet live by Him I kill’d!

 

John Newton 1779

 

Isaiah 38:7

And this shall be a sign unto thee from the Lord, that the Lord will do this thing that he hath spoken;

 

Jennifer Van Allen

www.theprodigalpig.com

www.faithincounseling.org

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *