My Jesus

I have called you by name, you are Mine (Isaiah 43:1)

I was the one lost.

Far from the flock.

And You left the ninety-nine

and sought me.

And found me.

And carried me on Your shoulders to safety.

My Jesus.

 

I was the one ravaged.

Torn by sin.

A demoniac.

Bound by Satan.

Naked, cold.

Alone.

Feared.

And You left the crowds on the other side of the lake

and sought me.

And found me.

And touched me.

And delivered me.

Clothed me with Your righteousness

and freed me.

My Jesus.

 

I was the one in the coffin.

Carried by friends.

Mourned by family.

Dead in my trespasses and sins.

And You left the throng

and sought me.

And found me.

And touched me.

And made me live again.

My Jesus.

 

I was the one by the pool.

Crippled.

Waiting for a sign.

For help.

For health.

And You sought me.

And found me.

And said to me, “Get up,”

and freed me.

And sent me on my way rejoicing.

Leaping.

Dancing.

Whole.

My Jesus.

 

O, my Jesus,

Many say I should not say,

“My Jesus.”

‘Our’ Jesus is more correct.

But O, Lord.

My Jesus.

They do not know how You sought me.

Touched me.

Freed me.

Healed me.

Loved me.

 

My Jesus.

My Jesus, I love thee.

I know thou art mine.

For Thee all the follies of sin I resign.

My gracious redeemer,

my savior art Thou.

If ever I loved Thee

my Jesus ‘tis now.

 

 

The last seven lines are from the hymn, “My Jesus I Love Thee,” written by William Ralph Featherston (d. 1873?)