(By Rachel Joyce)
In the year his lord was laid to rest,
Isaiah saw the LORD - exalted, preeminent,
His resplendence permeated the temple.
And above His supreme throne
Flew mighty angels singing,
“Holy, holy, holy is the LORD!”
Their voices rocked the temple
And smoke enveloped the scene as
Isaiah cringed at his own unworthiness,
Painfully aware of his sin-tainted lips.
But grace provided a cleansing
Coal, marked by the altar’s blood.
The LORD, the self-existent, eternal One,
Sovereign, Owner of all, in His infinite love
Provides cleansing for all
By the blood of His cross.
And we, His redeemed, worship
In the presence of our God.
We lay our idols in the dust and bow,
Blind to all else from the brilliance
Of Your magnificence, O LORD
Of glory; let our praises resound
Until the whole earth reverberates,
“Holy, holy, holy is our LORD!”