The Great Substitution Poem by James Nnanyelugo

Born was I a slave, Cuffs in arms, Chains on feet;
Born was I a slave, victim of circumstances;
Born was I a slave, to till until I fill;
Born was I a slave, an outcast, supposedly banished from grace.

Born was He a king, forever to rule;
Born was He a king, with scepter in arms and Crown on head;
Born was He a king, one with He who was and still is;
Born was He a king, spotless and blameless.

I lived, I lived in depravity, glory deprived;
I lived, I lived to tell the story of Ichabod;
I lived, I lived in destitution for a fault of mine;
I lived, I lived on a cursed land full of thorns.

‘T was easy, I could have been overlooked;
For I was dispensable, replaceable, overdue;
The bond was broken, death overly due;
Despicable a vulture, never to be whitened by dew.

Death was my debt;
My world a bed of thorns;
If I chose to stand in debt;
I and mine will become of dust.

Desperate to make amends, the great I am placed a price on me;
I was a slave, somebody has got to set me free;
But I was just a slave, what was the need, what could interest him in me;
What could I offer, He had it all, would earn him nothing if He sets me free.

But desperate was he, for the love with which He moulded me;
But desperate was he, for the passion he felt at the sight of me;
But desperate was he, as he looked upon me tilling to feed;
But desperate was he, for he loved me so amply.

And so a price was set on my head;
A price so costly to spear head;
One who was bound to have no aid;
Was painful a price to pay in the end.

But he loved me so much, passion ignited with emotions;
That cost and effect notwithstanding, He was overwhelmed with affections;
No silver, no gold, no bond could pay for my destitutions;
Nothing created or ever existed was pure enough for a conversation.

He was one and only, equal with one who was and still is;
He accepted to exchange his place for mine with no ease;
Recall he was the mighty and pure, and the blame was not His;
‘T was mine, a yoke I could not fathom without hiss.

My scorn he took, his fame he gave;
My thorn he took, his crown he yielded;
My Ichabod he took, his Shekinah Glory he let me have;
My Rejection he took, his acceptance he exchanged.

Oh what love is this, what passion, what sacrifice!
He saved me, gave me a chance again in circumstance!
The Pascal Lamb He became, that light may shine on my happenstance!
I have been exculpated, by the consummation of this happenchance!

He took my place, that I may live again, without destitution;
The fountain he poured on the cross, to cleanse me and mine of corruption;
The sacrifice to unite the bride and the groom in holy matrimony void of separation;
‘T is finished, was His last word at the point of great substitution.

Today, I live, I live in the kingship of an heir to the throne!
Today, I live, I live not as a slave with chains or shackles!
Today, I live, I live with no blames, nor bounty on my throat!
Today, I live, I live as a product of the great substitution!