Son from eternity, ever bathed
in your Father's smile,
you delighted to do his will
and came in appearance as a man.
As your human consciousness
grew beyond milk and breath,
you knew that you were his.
Son of Mary and Son of God.
Your father's business was not
in the chisel and plane of the
carpenter's shop, but in the
temple talking of Abba and his ways.
As Jordan flowed over your head
in baptism, he assured you,
"This is my beloved Son,
in whom I am well pleased."
He lovingly poured his Spirit in
full measure upon you and enabled
you to work as he works.
Father and Son, one in act and glory.
Even bent under the enormity of
his will at Gethsemane you still
called him Father while he held the
bitter cup, pressed hard to your lips.
But in the darkness, made sin for us,
nailed to a tree for our rebellion, Abba
who was always with you drew back,
abandoning you to the incomprehending
How much your Father must
have loved us poor wretches,
that he did not spare you his
absence, that he might make us
sons, never to leave or forsake.
Undone by his love, we too ask