In His Image Poem by Cory Fox

To Him that created in seven days
Darkness, light, earth, sky and sea
Would He who is righteous in all his ways
Love one as unrighteous as me?

What the folly of man could never see
Presented to you so obviously
So why oh why did you give us that tree?

To the smallest wisp of air
My works cannot compare
In eighty short years they sojourn
But if I am so small
Would you bother at all
To give me these words to return?

From amorous words, you constructed me
So tell me, how then can I only be
A loathsome product of iniquity?

I know by every grain of wheat
Or when my music fills the street
That you’re not hiding in the sky
Or see the world in its sad state
And lose myself beneath its weight
It’s you that tells my tears to dry

Still I mourn for those whose faith has been shaken
Who stand in the way of the Gospel partaken
And cry the author of law is mistaken

But where the works of men could not suffice
To redeem the price to be free
Became yourself a holy sacrifice
Oh, why did you do that for me?