"May your heart be clean, may your mind be clean, and may your feet be clean," she told me as she dried my feet.
1 comment:
Anonymous
said...
thank you for this, it reminds me of a song a heard a while ago that almost brought me to tears...
Verse 1: The room grew still as she made her way to Jesus She stumbles through the tears that made her blind She felt such pain Some spoke in anger Heard folks whisper "There's no place here for her kind" Still on she came through the shame that flushed her face Until at last she knelt before his feet And though she spoke no words, everything she said was heard As she poured her love for the master from her box of alabaster
And I've come to pour my praise on HIm like oil From Mary's alabaster box Don't be angry if I wash his feet with my tears and I dry them with my hair You weren't there the night he found me You did not feel what I felt when he wrapped his love all aorund me And you don't know the cost of the oil in my alabaster box
I can't forget the way life used to be I was a prisoner to the sins that had me bound I spent all my days And poured my life without measure Into a little treasure box I thought I found Until the day when Jesus came to me And filled my soul with the wonder of his touch So now Im giving back to him all the praise he's worthy of I've been forgiven and that's why I love him so much
And I 've come to pour my praise on him like oil From Mary's alabaster box Don't be angry if I wash his feet with my tears And I dry them with my hair.......my hair You weren't there The night Jesus found me You did not feel what I felt when he wrapped his loving arms around me And you don't know the cost of the oil oohhhhhhhhhhhh You don't know the cost of my praise You don't know the cost of the oil in my alabaster box
"May your heart be clean, may your mind be clean, and may your feet be clean," she told me as she dried my feet.
1 comment:
thank you for this, it reminds me of a song a heard a while ago that almost brought me to tears...
Verse 1:
The room grew still as she made her way to Jesus
She stumbles through the tears that made her blind
She felt such pain
Some spoke in anger
Heard folks whisper "There's no place here for her kind"
Still on she came through the shame that flushed her face
Until at last she knelt before his feet
And though she spoke no words, everything she said was heard
As she poured her love for the master from her box of alabaster
And I've come to pour my praise on HIm like oil
From Mary's alabaster box
Don't be angry if I wash his feet with my tears and I dry them with my hair
You weren't there the night he found me
You did not feel what I felt when he wrapped his love all aorund me
And you don't know the cost of the oil in my alabaster box
I can't forget the way life used to be
I was a prisoner to the sins that had me bound
I spent all my days
And poured my life without measure
Into a little treasure box I thought I found
Until the day when Jesus came to me
And filled my soul with the wonder of his touch
So now Im giving back to him all the praise he's worthy of
I've been forgiven and that's why I love him so much
And I 've come to pour my praise on him like oil
From Mary's alabaster box
Don't be angry if I wash his feet with my tears
And I dry them with my hair.......my hair
You weren't there
The night Jesus found me
You did not feel what I felt when he wrapped his loving arms around me
And you don't know the cost of the oil
oohhhhhhhhhhhh
You don't know the cost of my praise
You don't know the cost of the oil in my alabaster box
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