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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