These hands, so dry, so rough.
Beat up with time and pain.
Don’t they show this body of humiliation?
Don’t they show my fallen condition?
How leprous I am, how dirty I am.
God, how I ache to be free of this sight,
To be freed from this cage of flesh.
Matt. 8:2; Rom. 7:14-24; Phil. 3:20-21
COMING FORWARD 