I saw the face of Jesus
Shining through a misty cloud
His brow and cheeks and eyes were painted
On a weathered shroud

Who rendered such a work of art?
It was by Jesus’ grace
He painted his own portrait
With the blood upon his face

His radiance shown through
The woven fabric as he lay
Entombed within a chamber
Where his body would not stay

And so He left His silhouette
Upon a fragile cloth
this mark of His redemption
So indelibly embossed

His likeness settled in my eyes
And there it still remains
This image of His countenance
In everlasting stains

A shroud of death absorbed His life
That we may someday find
This wondrous tapestry of Love
That He had left behind

I saw the face of Jesus
That was left upon the ground
In crimson ink he sketched His face
And turned my life around