Do not press your fingers
Into my gaping wounds
To seek what makes blood flow--
Let it suffice for you
That all was done in love
For you, that you might hope.
Do not stand on my cross
For that would break my back--
Let mystery remain:
Unseen tears hold me up,
Dried into salt pillars
Our Lord turned into diamonds.
This is His faithfulness,
To let His glory shine
In such a frail vessel.
Come near, let His blood fall
One drop into your heart
From my small hand to yours.
Debra Koehler, 2015