I
Guilty I stand,
Hands shackled behind me.
Guilty I stand, head bowed, alone.
The sentence echoes
against the walls of my heart:
"Condemned to die!"
Guilty . . . Condemned . . . Without hope.
II
Righteous He stands,
Hands scarred, perfect as God Himself.
Righteous He stands,
Raised up from dying
condemned--instead of me.
Unshackled from mortality like a prisoner freed,
He breaks away the rusted handcuffs of my sin.
Amazed by grace, I go free.
For He made Him who knew no sin
to be sin for us,
That we might become
the righteousness of God in Him.
2 Corinthians 5:21
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