Beside his crib I watched him breathe, as each breath seemed his last;
And in the darkness time stood still, yet moved so very fast.
“Where is my faith, my trust, my hope? Where is this God of love?”
“This is my son!” I quietly cried into the brass above.
Strong yet helpless there I knelt and held his tiny hand;
Wondering if the God of Jacob soon would make a stand.
As dreams imagined disappeared and shattered in my eyes,
“This is my son!” rose from my lips and lifted to the skies.
That night was long and dark and numb, I will forget it not.
It emptied me of everything—of word, and strength, and thought.
Deals were made and desperate plans created in the strife,
“This is my son! And for his life, I will give my life!”
The darkness thickened like a fog and hid all trace of light.
It brought me low and there below ensued an awful fight.
I wrestled till the break of dawn and gave no certain ground,
“This is my son! I won’t let go, till mercy will be found!”
God wrapped me in His gentle grip and held me there till dawn.
I fought and kicked against the goad, till all my strength was gone.
Bruised and scarred He held me there, against my shattered will;
And gently whispered in my ear, “I love you, and will love you still.”
In the morning when I woke, the room was filled with light;
And there I saw, and held in awe, the meaning of this fight.
“This is my Son,” His word proclaimed, pointing to the cross.
“I know your hurt; I know your pain; I know your suffering loss.”
“I am not one who stands aloft, and watches without care.
I know when every sparrow falls—I number every hair.
I've bottled every tear you've cried since your pain began.
Within this life and suffering, resides my perfect plan.”
“This is my Son! And He has died so all my sons may live.
For greater love no Father knows, than of his Son he gives.
A sacrifice for death and sin, and grace forever true.
This is my Son, and on His hands I carved my love for you.”
I left the darkness bathed in light, and love and hope and grace;
Limping with my broken son who brought me face to face.
“This is my son!” I cried with joy—no health or wealth could bring.
And we will stand upon this Rock, and of His Son we’ll sing.