In shadows deep, where fear resides,
A plague descends, a nation hides.
But hope remains, a whispered plea,
Hyssop's touch sets spirits free.
A lamb is slain, a crimson tide,
On doorposts marked, where life abides.
Hyssop's branch, a humble tool,
Applies the blood, the ancient rule.
From bondage freed, they rise anew,
With faith restored, and purpose true.
The bitter herbs, a solemn taste,
Of trials faced, and sins erased.
Through desert sands, they march along,
With hyssop's scent, a constant song.
A promise kept, a future bright,
Hyssop's blessing, shining light.
Hyssop's grace, a cleansing tide,
Washing over, deep inside.
From ancient rites to saving blood,
Hyssop's story, understood.
A symbol of redemption's plea,
Setting captives truly free.
In every age, its power known,
Hyssop's blessing, mercy shown.
Upon the cross, a King's despair,
A crown of thorns, a world to bear.
He thirsts, he cries, in agony,
A sponge is raised for all to see.
Hyssop's stem, a fragile reed,
Brings solace in His hour of need.
A final act, of love so deep,
For broken souls, He yearns to keep.
His sacrifice, a cleansing flood,
Washing away the stains of blood.
From sin's dark grasp, we find release,
Through faith in Him, we gain our peace.
The veil is torn, the path is clear,
No longer bound by doubt or fear.
With grateful hearts, we sing His praise,
Hyssop's gift, through endless days.
Hyssop's grace, a cleansing tide,
Washing over, deep inside.
From ancient rites to saving blood,
Hyssop's story, understood.
A symbol of redemption's plea,
Setting captives truly free.
In every age, its power known,
Hyssop's blessing, mercy shown.
When sickness strikes, and life is frail,
Hyssop's touch begins to heal.
A leper cleansed, made whole again,
Restored to life, released from pain.
The priest declares, "You're purified,"
With hyssop's sprig, your fate decided.
From isolation, you emerge,
A testament to grace's surge.
In sacred rites, a cleansing call,
To purify both great and small.
With humble hearts, we seek His face,
To find forgiveness, and embrace.
"Create in me a heart so pure,"
Like David prayed, forever sure.
Hyssop's power, a gentle hand,
To heal the soul, and bless the land.
Hyssop's grace, a cleansing tide,
Washing over, deep inside.
From ancient rites to saving blood,
Hyssop's story, understood.
A symbol of redemption's plea,
Setting captives truly free.
In every age, its power known,
Hyssop's blessing, mercy shown.
boloko_jasadacatmar
