It is still and sacred,
This opening of me to You;
This opening of dirty hands;
This table of surrender, bread, and blood;
This giving, giving, giving that You do;
A grace from open, gracious You.
It's a reckless river,
This cleansing blood that's coursing through
The darkest depths of all of me;
This cup of water poured out pure and fierce;
This quenching for a burning soul from You;
A quiet gift from lamb-like You.
It is open access,
This curtain that's been torn in two;
Your broken body blessing me;
This opening of wounds then presence pleased;
This drawing near of prodigals to You;
A bread so beautiful it seems untrue.
But You are true
And as I finger signs and seals
Your heart pours into mine what's real-
Me + You,