We are born into the broken,
Loud cries in us are awoken.
A hurting people in need of rescue,
A world stained in crimson red.
Some days are like a raging storm,
Sin invades and ashes form.
The darkness comes to steal,
Tides rise and fierce winds gust.
We yearn for calm to find its way,
We long for sunshine to pierce the day.
To feel the warmth of glowing joy,
To be rescued back to real life.
Then the Rescuer leans in close,
Whispering gently a song He knows.
He points us to the rugged Cross,
Stained in His blood shed for our freedom.
He speaks to us in love,
And tells of how He left His throne above.
He came to conquer the sting of death,
And heal our wounds with His wounded body broken.
The ashes are interwoven into the story,
They come alive with beauty for His glory.
The broken we are born into,
Becomes beautiful because of the Cross.
And when He had given thanks, He broke it and said, “Take, eat; this is My body which is broken for you; do this in remembrance of Me.”
– 1 Corinthians 11:24 (NKJV)