The Bottle
Psalm 56:8
I stand before the throne.
The tears run down my face.
The occupant of the throne knows well
The stains upon my face.
He doesn’t speak a word.
And I’m afraid to look.
I’m ashamed to stand before him.
Afraid for all I’ve done.
Silently He reaches out to me
And pulls me to His side.
There’s a smile upon His face
And tears within His eyes.
Quietly He reaches out
And takes a bottle from nearby
I see it is not empty,
And I pause to wonder why.
He holds the bottle to my face
And catches every tear.
As He gently pulls me close
And whispers in my ear.
“Your tears are most dear to me.
I’ve saved them, every one.
For I sent my Son to die for you.
You’re my own. My precious one.”
_____ _____
____David E. Cloud____
(12/5/14)
unpublished work David Cloud 2014 used by permission
