Less Like Scars

The heart records its battle wounds
And what therein is scored
Is hidden from the eyes of men,
But not before the Lord.

In heaven's light the rough design
Like character appears,
Conforms my heart to be like His,
And His to mine endears.

If I had never wept a tear
How could I ever prize
The bounty of His broken heart,
The pathos of His eyes?

He is the healer of my heart,
The lover of my soul;
I am forgiven by His blood
And by His stripes made whole.