The Father's son, Jesus Christ Held it out to me, from atop His scar, A beautiful but select old fashioned key, Openly displayed not hidden in a jar. His eyes seeing me as only He can How do I fail to know all we can be?
With trembling fingers I gently touch Unsure of what doors it unlocked, My finger tip glazed His scar All I thought I knew just disappeared, My knowledge sank in my simple mind As His wisdom briefly in its place appeared.
How precious this key He gives, Surely I must protect it regardless of the cost? It comes from the One who overcame death, Affording us every protection, every security post? This is the eternal key to the Father's house How can it be used to reach the lost?
Do I hide it, guard it, silence it Even in times of greatest need? Do I keep its presence a secret Let rumor and legend grow their seed? Is this the best to keep thieves away Make silence my lifelong creed?
Should I refuse it after all Though I asked Jesus into my heart? For I am not worthy of His trust Could I really complete my part? Do I not have doubt in myself Down to a dark type of art?
Then almost as I backed away I heard Jesus whisper in my ear, "At Judgment when asked the question You were offered the key so dear, The key to Our Father's house, How did you use it year after year?"
Did you accept all the possibilities Of what the Father could open for you, If you took the Father's house key Perhaps opened a door or two? Invited people in to meet the Father? What did you do, who did you woo?
How will you answer this question "What did you do with the Father's key?" What will be your honest answer? Will Jesus receive the truth of what you believe? What will Jesus oh, so clearly see? Did you use it so the lost receives?