...As He Was Known

Please Wash My Feet Lord, my feet are dry and dusty; Calloused by mud and clay; My flesh, as well, feels dormant, parched and thirsty; Weathered dry like rust's decay. By faith I see Your gentle hands...dip cooling water...gently streaming down; Then with fragrance of a rare perfume...by faith I feel you touch my brow. Wash the soles of my scarred and tired feet...where stones on rugged paths left their mark; Immerse my soul in the waters of Siloam; by faith...baptism heals my fainting heart. Please wash the dust of weary travel from my feet; Pour out the soothing rain from beds of clay; When I meet you in the Upper Room in Heaven...Cool my brow and wash the dust of my journey far away. I'm Outta' Here! Blow out the sun; My work is done; I've fought the fight; The race I've won; I held to faith; I held to God; His staff my comfort; My help, His rod; I'm stepping toward...the valley of death; anxious to draw celestial breath; There's coming a morn', soon to rise, when I shall soar through the Eastern skies; I'll see the stars from a loftier sphere; So blow out the sun...I'm outta' here! A Mile In My Shoes You've heard it said, "Don't criticize until you've walked a mile in my shoes. The path I walk may be rocky and rough, and if the shoe doesn't fit, we both lose. You are not structured to walk in my shoes; nor am I programmed to step into yours. The paths of our journeys may not be straight, designed with hurdles, delays or detours. To walk in your shoes...recompense will come nigh; To walk in mine, payment is sure to come due; You may walk the mile and pay the price...but...There's no guarantee I will follow you. Yet, Christ came to walk and not criticize; Willing to face the consequential cost; He offered Himself and stepped into my shoes..one last mile..that led to the cross.