At What Cost?

At what cost can I pray,
       and stand before Grace?
At what cost am I heard,
       in splendor above?
At what cost can I bow,
       and in worship adore,
              Majesties Self in Glory unknown?
At what cost can I live,
       my own life as I wish?
At what cost am I free,
       to live a life that is real?
At what cost is there joy,
       in the midst of hard trial?
At what cost am I fed,
       as the birds of the air?
At what cost will this world,
       be made fresh and new?
At what cost am I destined,
       to the wide gates of heaven?
The cost let me tell you,
       is not yours to pay.
With the blood of His Son,
       the price has been paid.
The price wasn’t paid,
       for stained glass and four walls.
The price wasn’t paid,
       for our possessions so dear.
But by the blood of His own Son,
        Our destiny is sure,
       Everlasting splendors,
              as someone once said.
We are being transformed,
       from glory to glory,
              just like the Son.
Next time that we think,
       a price must be paid,
              or count our own cost, so very dear.
Let us ponder and think,
       At what cost am I here,
              to spell out these words?
Every last drop of His very Own Son.
-M. Matheson 2010