What quality of love
What quality of love is this
that washes a betrayer’s feet?
What kind of majesty, a king
who kneels before a friend’s deceit?
It is a love for those, like me
who know of grace but choose to sin;
a love that waits until I must
return to Calvary again.
What quality of ruler, this
who lays aside his royal right?
What kind of power which takes a towel
and stoops to lift our blinkered sight?
This is the ruler of all realms
and yet the one who calls me friend;
the one who, knowing what would come,
still chose to love me to the end.
What quality of Saviour comes
to bring salvation by his death?
What kind of battle-plan to hang
forsaken, beaten and bereft?
This is the Saviour who, for me,
endured the cross with all its shame;
who, dying for a world, can still
remember and call out my name.
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