Michael Card Scribbling In The Sand
Amidst a mob of madmen
She stood frightened and alone
As hate filled voices hissed at him
That she should now be stoned
But in the air around him
Hung a vast and wordless love
Who knows what loom at his lesson
He was in the middle of
At first he faced the fury
Of their self righteous scorn
But then he stooped and at once became
The calm eye of the storm
It was his wordless answer
To their dark and cruel demand
The lifetime in a moment
As he scribbled in the sand
It was silence it was music
It was art it was absurd
He stooped and shouted volumes
Without saying a single word
The same finger
Of the strong hand
That had written ten commands
For now was simply scribbling in the sand
Within the space of space and time
He scribbled in the sand
They cam e to hear and see as much
As they could understand
Now bound by cords of kindness
They couldn’t cast a single stone
And Jesus and the women found that they were all alone
It was silence it was music
It was art it was absurd
He stooped and shouted volumes
Without saying a single word
The same finger
Of the strong hand
That had written ten commands
For now was simply scribbling in the sand
Could that same finger come
And trace my souls sacred sand
And make some unexpected space
Where I could understand
That my own condemnation pierced
And broke that gentle hand
That scratched the words I’ll never know
Written in the sand
It was silence it was music
It was art it was absurd
He stooped and shouted volumes
Without saying a single word
The same finger
Of the strong hand
That had written ten commands
For now was simply scribbling in the sand
The same finger
Of the strong hand
That had written ten commands
For now was simply scribbling in the sand
