Stained with the blood of the unborn I stand before you
Their lifeless bodies fill my eyes as I look to you
Is there any forgiveness for what I have done?

I was told it was my choice, my decision
There would be risks, yes, but physical only
Why didn’t they tell me how it would hurt?

Beyond my body, there is a pain that never heals
I could no longer stand the person in the mirror
My heart aches with every silent birthday no one celebrates
As the tombs of infants haunt me, I mourn my own innocence

I want to hide, but where would I go
He sees me; He knows what I’ve done
It was to His that I committed their souls…
And damned my own.

Can there be any redemption for me, my Lord?
Can the blood of innocence be cleansed from my hands?

Stained with the blood of My innocent it stands before you
A gift to you it held on its crude branches
He was bruised for your iniquities, crucified for your sins
Yes, my child, there is redemption for all through Him whom I sent.

His blood for yours, His life for yours
Welcome home

Written by Lyn Eagleton
01/26/2003