Love Scarred Hands

I don't want to dance with You just because of the flowing, gorgeous gown,
I don't want to dance with You just because of the rubies decorating my head.
I don't want to dance with You just because of the delicate shoes on my feet,
I don't want to dance with You just because of the beauty of the court surrounding me.
I don't want to dance with You just because I can learn a dance nobody else knows.
I don't want to dance with You just because I can say, "I'm dancing with the King."

I want to dance with You, even in a sack for a dress,
I want to dance with You, even with nothing on my head but my tangled mane.
I want to dance with You, even when it's simply dirt coating my soles,
I want to dance with You, even in the empty field with no one around.
I want to dance with You, even if it is the simplest dance a child can dance.
I want to dance with You, even if You were only known as "my Beloved."

For how can I refuse those hands forever scarred with Love?  Carrying the proof my iniquity..and the proof of Your unashamed Love.

How can I refuse those eyes that stare straight into my heart, stripping away all of my carefully built walls?  Those eyes see the mess, the sin, the brokenness, the simply humanity...and still beckons me into a Love that I've never known or experienced before.  Pure, undefiled, unchallenged, unbiased, true.

No matter the circumstances, I will not refuse You. All of the riches that You've promised me...I want none of them unless I have You.