Heritage of Grace

Poetry

Photo by Joshua Hanson on Unsplash

I feel it

Deep in my joints and marrow

From bone to soul

The same hand that reached for the fruit

The same throat that laughed at an open womb

The same wrists that were adorned in gold

The same skin that lacked beauty

The same arms that lowered the scarlet rope

The same feet that marched into battle

The same fist that drove the tent peg

The same back that lay on the threshing floor

The same tears that fell at the altar

The same wavering breath that spoke before a king

The same body that was filled with the Holy Spirit

The same tongue that tasted living water

The same fingers that touched the hem

The same mind that was worried to distraction

The same hair that wiped his feet

The same ears that diligently listened

The same knees that knelt at the tomb

The same eyes that recognized a Savior

The same voice that declared His resurrection

The same beating heart that held his life from manger to tomb

They are also mine

I feel it

Deep in my joints and marrow

From bone to soul

This legacy

This heritage of grace.

—Whitney