| Deeper than the ocen More red than a poppy on a spring day... Is your blood that covers me I am washed white as snow in this blood that flows... Over me is your pireced and bleeding hand I long to see the face of the man that bled for my faults and sins... I should have been crucified on that tree that day It was my sin... And you died for it I will glorify your name forever... I long to touch your hands For your blood is wonderful and mighty... Your blood that washes me Shall always flow in my heart... Copyright � 1997 Dawn L. S. |