The Artist
The Artist lifted the canvas And sketched each line carefully I watched as the picture unfolded It was shaped in the image of me. The shadows were deepened with sorrow And the brow was sprinkled with pain The eyes were sad and so empty A picture of sorrow and shame. He painted a heart that was broken Torn and scarred deep within, And bitter from life's disappointments And framed with the blackness of sin. I looked in the eyes of the Artist, I trembled and reached for His hand, And cried O Master Creator Transform me and paint me again. So He smiled and lifted the canvas And started all over again Remolding and shaping the image How graceful the touch of His hand. He painted a heart that was mended Replacing the guilt and the shame, And framed it with colors of crimson I posed and He painted again.