Post by brooklet on Sept 18, 2006 8:49:16 GMT -5
EDEN’S DAMPENED CLAY
A breeze wrapped its gentle fingers
About my heart today
And it carried me to that moment
When You first touched Eden’s clay.
With tenderest touch You fashioned
From the earth You had just trod
A man in Your own image
Who touched the face of God!
When Adam’s eyes first opened
And he drank in his first breath
The only thing still absent
Was the world’s first taste of death.
Love hovered as a promise
With that first embrace You shared.
And darkness hadn’t entered
It hadn’t even dared.
The Spirit danced in breezes
That stirred about that day.
His pleasure brushed the treetops
When Adam knelt to pray.
I was born within that moment.
That’s what I was brought to see.
For in Your love of Adam
Is the love You bear for me.
Two hearts were interwoven,
The Potter’s and the clay.
And Adam walked beside You,
He knew no other way.
How did that darkness enter
A kinship so divine
And open up a journey
That would spill Redemption Wine?
That is the very question
The breezes asked of me today.
And that is why they took me
To Eden’s dampened clay.
When Adam touched Your face, Dear God,
And marked it as his own
He turned his back on Your command -
His heart had lost its home.
But the Potter felt that absence.
It tore right through Your heart.
So You carried out the plan You drew
Right from the very start.
There still was hid Your image,
Where the darkness could not touch,
Buried deep within the man
The Potter loved so much.
You drew that clay back to Your side
When Adam would’ve turned away.
And it was there the wine was shed
That first Redemption Day.
The earth’s still moist where blood was spilt.
I stand there now and weep.
Where first it drank from Your own cup
The vow You’d choose to keep.
For when You walked upon the sod
And bent to feel its touch,
You knew there’d be a journey
That would cost You, oh, so much.
For love of me it brought You
To Calvary’s wounded hill
And the cup that Eden started
At last would drink its fill.
A breeze wrapped its gentle fingers
Around this piece of clay
And poured anew Love’s story
And I knelt with You, to pray.
© DeAnna Brooks
5 November 2004
A breeze wrapped its gentle fingers
About my heart today
And it carried me to that moment
When You first touched Eden’s clay.
With tenderest touch You fashioned
From the earth You had just trod
A man in Your own image
Who touched the face of God!
When Adam’s eyes first opened
And he drank in his first breath
The only thing still absent
Was the world’s first taste of death.
Love hovered as a promise
With that first embrace You shared.
And darkness hadn’t entered
It hadn’t even dared.
The Spirit danced in breezes
That stirred about that day.
His pleasure brushed the treetops
When Adam knelt to pray.
I was born within that moment.
That’s what I was brought to see.
For in Your love of Adam
Is the love You bear for me.
Two hearts were interwoven,
The Potter’s and the clay.
And Adam walked beside You,
He knew no other way.
How did that darkness enter
A kinship so divine
And open up a journey
That would spill Redemption Wine?
That is the very question
The breezes asked of me today.
And that is why they took me
To Eden’s dampened clay.
When Adam touched Your face, Dear God,
And marked it as his own
He turned his back on Your command -
His heart had lost its home.
But the Potter felt that absence.
It tore right through Your heart.
So You carried out the plan You drew
Right from the very start.
There still was hid Your image,
Where the darkness could not touch,
Buried deep within the man
The Potter loved so much.
You drew that clay back to Your side
When Adam would’ve turned away.
And it was there the wine was shed
That first Redemption Day.
The earth’s still moist where blood was spilt.
I stand there now and weep.
Where first it drank from Your own cup
The vow You’d choose to keep.
For when You walked upon the sod
And bent to feel its touch,
You knew there’d be a journey
That would cost You, oh, so much.
For love of me it brought You
To Calvary’s wounded hill
And the cup that Eden started
At last would drink its fill.
A breeze wrapped its gentle fingers
Around this piece of clay
And poured anew Love’s story
And I knelt with You, to pray.
© DeAnna Brooks
5 November 2004