I was Born a Slave

I was born with heavy wrists and torn skin,

The sound of shackles banging together put me to sleep.

I was a slave to the laws that had me bound,

And though I clung to His Word…..

My actions did not comply.

What is right I do not do and what is wrong I repeat (Romans 7:15)

Like the steady beat of the whip against my skin;

I tried to tear away my own sin,

Hoping my salvation was somewhere deep within.

I was born the child of a slave woman,

With chained hands and feet,

But the day I met the Savior, all bonds were released.

No longer do I struggle with man-made restrictions,

Celebrating the work of my hands…..but now I cry…..Father,

And press His wholly holy hands against my cheek.

My spots are now clean, and yet though I am in sin,

I am not of it, for I am reclaimed, adopted into the family of Christ.

Behold the old things have passed away,

All things have become new (2 Corinthians 5:17)

(By Stephanie French, Edmonton, Alberta, Canada)

Sherry