Ransomed

Lord, when I’m sad and displaced,
Look in the mirror and can’t find my face,
Just some woman with sags and scars
Who sought beauty through tubes and jars
And wished and dreamed and hoped in vain,
I sit quietly, Lord, and call Your name.

And then in that same mirror I see
A woman who is loved unconditionally,
Regardless of age or smoothness of skin,
Regardless of weight of body or sin.
I see someone fearfully and wonderfully made,
And ransomed for the highest price ever paid.