What quality of love is this that washes a betrayer’s feet? What kind of majesty, a king who kneels before a friend’s deceit? It is a love for those, like me who know of grace but choose to sin; a love that waits until I must return to Calvary again. What quality of ruler, this who lays aside his royal right? What kind of power which takes a towel and stoops to lift our blinkered sight? This is the ruler of all realms and yet the one who calls me friend; the one who, knowing what would come, still chose to love me to the end. What quality of Saviour comes to bring salvation by his death? What kind of battle-plan to hang forsaken, beaten and bereft? This is the Saviour who, for me, endured the cross with all its shame; who, dying for a world, can still remember and call out my name.
A hymn for Maundy Thursday
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