My Jesus,
Here I am,
Hanging beside you,
Like the good thief,
Conscious of my fault and failure,
Yet, all the more,
Conscious of You.

I have only to behold You,
To see You on Your Cross,
In Your dying,
To know all has changed.

Seeing You,
I let down my guard.
I am naked and defenseless,
Like Adam in the garden.
Now, though, there is a difference.

I can not run.
I can not hide,
But neither do I want to.

This time I, truly, see You.

I see You in Your pain,
In Your misery,
In Your dying agony.
I see You.

I see You beholding me.
You take me in, in a glance.
You comfort me with Your gaze,
And let me see, in You, my only hope.

Your dying makes a difference.
I find the difference in me.

You look at me,
And I see in Your eyes,
Suffering Love,
Mercy, Incarnate.

Your gaze takes me in,
And I find myself within You,
In Your merciful heart.

How do You heal me?
With a look?
With a plea?
With Your pain?

Is it that You take me,
With your gaze,
Into the Heart of You.

I am one with the Only One
One with God,
Here on the Your Cross,
Here in Your knowing,
Here in Your most Sacred Heart.

by Joann Nelander