You have healed,
lest Your promise would never
have been spoken.

My belief in the promise
does not create it.
Your promise itself
is evidence that it is done,
and awaiting my trust.

You have taken that vile curse
into Yourself -
drinking it dry of its poison - vanquished, all,
in the stream of Your lifeblood.

O Lamb slain,
O mercy wrought,
Great sorrows and pain
Are descended to naught.

And shall we now carry
What Your bleeding back bore?
Shall we now hold fast
What is no more?