Prisoners

Behind the prison wall, we shut ‘them’ all away,
For ‘they’ve’ done wrong, ‘they’re’ not like us,
And for ‘their ‘ crimes ‘they’ll’ pay.

Are ‘they’ so far removed? Are ‘they’ a different breed?
Or simply hurting souls
Whom God knows have a need?

And when we see a crime, and label it as sin,
Have we the right to judge
Till we’ve been where ‘they’ve’ been?

God sees within the heart, the depth of our intent,
Though ‘they’ may do the crime’
In our hearts it’s oft’ times meant.

In His eyes, sin is sin, it’s neither big nor small,
We cannot justify,
For God abhors it all.

The sin he cannot stand, he cannot look upon,
Yet still there lies a hope,
Through Jesus it is gone.

His blood will wash away, the stench of any crime,
If we offer them the way,
They’ll come to Him in time.

A hand reached out, a listening ear,
And someone that can care
Enough to hear a tale of woe, and wipe away a tear.

It may not seem a lot to give, it may not seem enough,
But love can be a precious thing ,
To those that have it rough.

God’s love is purer, greater still than any we can show,
But we must show out love on earth,
Before His love they’ll know.

They’re not so different in that cell; of mortar, iron and brick,
Than you or I, when we hide away,
And a wall around us stick.

We build our walls, to keep us safe, and tightly close the door,
We seem to think, that we must hide,
From all the Lord died for.

He died for ‘them’, He died for us and all that ever live,
Upon that wooden cross He gave,
All God required He give.

So all of us are equal, each one of us the same,
And all can have salvation
When we call upon His name.

© Ailsa Yates 3/6/98

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