A Change of Clothes [Original Sonnet for Good Friday]

A wretched rebel wrapped in righteousness,

I shiver looking on my Lord, who wears

His blood and my own filthy rags for dress––

a transfer to be favored, though unfair.

For God is just, thus He must punish me.

But there He hangs, with sinners crucified

on either side. By grace I am released,

no more in debt to law, but justified.

He paid the price in full; the words He died

to gasp proclaim it done. How strange, to sing

them now in joy, dressed as a radiant bride

who blameless stands before her husband-king.

He is my righteousness. No more shall sin

attire me. I shall robe myself in Him.