Mortar

His Flesh and Blood on His way to the cross
are in the Mortar of our foundations.
Our feet would slip and we'd certainly fall
away into isolation.

It makes us strong
and builds us up this Mortar that holds us there.
On the Cornerstone built from His walk to death.
Unspeakable, brutal, and unfair.

To what strikes this Mortar
and smooths it out each joint so strong and sure.
Twas the nails nearby in a Savior’s hands.
Who is loving, merciful and pure.

A mixture much stronger,
some would say, unlike any they'd ever seen.
Hair, thorns, some purple thread, and human spit
they can't believe.

Our walls, you see
weren't built in a day, and still there is more to be done.
The Mortar was mixed by a Fathers hands and the
ingredients were from His Son.

The road is dark,
there is sin and hate, not what the Creator planned.
When all feels lost, no hope in sight, there is a place
where you can stand.

So bring your blocks of burdens,
your bricks of shame and fear. There's a Cornerstone
and a space awaits and soon
it will all be clear.

Put your faith and trust in Jesus
and your walls that He has planned.
Jesus accepts your broken things, for
He has Mortar in His hands.