From Death to Life, His Cure

I'm lost, I'm tossed, across this world
I barely take it in.
The truth, I'm dead, there lies my bed.
The death that comes from sin

What cure have I, my heart does cry.
No ointment to give life.
No medicine to cure my sin.
I walk this life in strife.

Then came His hope, His lifeline rope.
The God, who set me free.
The Son, His blood, His love a flood.
He died upon a tree.

That precious blood took all my mud,
and made it white as snow.
Now glory's shed upon my head.
My heart will ever glow.

His gift to me that set me free!
A life with God so sure.
It rests upon the Son's sure work,
His blood is now my cure!

This poem was a finalist in the January 2026 poetry contest