I hear the Savior say, “Your strength indeed is small, child of weakness, watch and pray, find in me your all in all.”
Lord, now indeed I find your power, and yours alone, can change the leper’s spots, and melt the heart of stone.
For nothing good have I whereby thy grace to claim — I’ll wash my garments white in the blood of Calv’ry’s lamb.
And when, before the throne, I stand in him complete, “Jesus died my soul to save,” my lips shall still repeat.
Jesus paid it all, all to him I owe; sin had left a crimson stain, he washed it white as snow.
The greatest sinners, if they truly repent, shall have their sins forgiven them … Though our sins have been as scarlet and crimson, a deep dye, first in the wool of original corruption and afterwards in the many threads of actual transgression — though we have been often dipped, by our many backslidings, in to sin, and though we have lain long soaking in it, as the cloth does in the scarlet dye, yet pardoning mercy will thoroughly discharge the stain, and, being purged as with hyssop, we shall be clean. (Matthew Henry’s Commentary, Isaiah to Malachi)
Sunday was days ago, yet I find these old and beautiful words still running through my subconscious thoughts. As I wash dishes: Jesus paid it all. As I feed the dog: All to Him I owe. As I fold laundry: Sin had left a crimson stain, He washed it white as snow.
Over and over. The Truth. Unfolded for all eternity. Running with melody through my finite mind.
For born into original sin was I (you were, too), and the scarlet dye bled deep. The threads of my actual transgressions (yours, too) have been many. My daily backslidings into sin soak me with crimson stain. Yet His freeing, transforming forgiveness remains, and I bask in His pardoning mercy as I hum the simple, but breath-taking words:
Jesus paid it all. All to Him I owe. Sin had left a crimson stain. He washed it white as snow.
“Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be white as snow.”