Ode to the Scarlet Thread

O scarlet thread, thou cord divine,
That winds through time’s eternal spine,
From Eden’s dawn to Heaven’s height,
Thy crimson hue reveals the Light.

When man first fell in garden shade,
And fig leaves failed what guilt had made,
Thy mercy wove through leaf and thorn,
A covering for the soul forlorn.

Through Abel’s blood and altars flame,
Thou whispered low the Savior’s name;
In Noah’s ark and Abraham’s plea,
Thy promise crossed the endless sea.

At Egypt’s gate the lamb was slain,
Its blood marked doors from death and pain;
The angel passed — the thread held fast,
And faith’s red banner stood steadfast.

Rahab’s cord on Jericho’s wall,
Told of grace that could rescue all;
A crimson sign in judgment’s day,
Proclaiming life through scarlet way.

Through temple courts and prophets’ cry,
Thou wound thy way, O thread on high;
Each sacrifice, each tear, each psalm,
Prepared the world for Heaven’s calm.

Then on the hill of skull and grief,
The thread became the world’s relief;
The Lamb of God, in crimson bound,
Redeemed the lost, the curse unbound.

And still it runs — through hearts of clay,
Through souls redeemed, through night and day;
No power of hell, no earthly dread,
Can sever Thee, O scarlet thread.

Thy color bright in every story,
Binds judgment, mercy, shame, and glory;
A line of love the ages span —
The blood of God, the hope of man.