On a dead-end street in any town
Lies an old condemned building.
With pieces falling all around.
The windows are cracked,
And the doors off of the hinge.
Wind blows through the holes,
And the roof is coming down.
Crouched in the corner,
Peeking around the side wall,
Is a fearful young child,
Feeling so small.
She’s locked in her prison,
can’t find her way out;
can’t see past fear and pain,
Yet she holds her hand out.
She calls for her Savior,
Jesus is His name,
He came to her table,
And fed her His Name.
She asks “why’d you come here,
Why would you want to be here?
He says “Don’t you worry,
Just rest as I care.”
He asks her, “But how can I feed you, if you won’t sit down?
How can I wash you, if you won’t slow down?
How can I give to you, if you won’t let go?
And how can I lead you, if you won’t follow?”
He says” I’m sitting here waiting, you invited me in,
Now come to my arms, and let me in.
I’ll make up the difference, shower you with my grace,
If only child, you would look at my face.”
So on that day the little girl came out of her prison,
And came to the Father, holding the Son’s hand.
He led her out of her darkness and pain,
And into the light, a new life, a new land.
The old building He demo’d,
no need for it now,
He delivered her to freedom,
and He took down the walls.
DIANA RASMUSSEN blogs at Prayers and Promises