Jesus washing feet to His disciples

In courts of celestial light, where angels tread,
Christ reigned, a crown of glory on His head.
Yet on earth, in meek array, He knelt to serve,
The Master washing feet, a curve
Of heaven bending low, where mortals dwell,
Teaching hearts with humble love to swell.

“Master and Lord,” His followers confessed,
Yet He who stars and cosmos blessed
Took towel and basin, tasks so menially sweet,
To cleanse the road-dust from their feet.
Even the one who would His trust betray
Felt the tender touch before the fray.

No act too lowly for His kingly hand,
No service too meek for His command.
From throne to threshold, from sky to sod,
The pathway trod by the Son of God.
Here lies the mystery, divine and deep:
In servant’s garb, His love did sweep.

So kneel where angels dare not claim a space,
By foot-washing grace, find His embrace.
For Christ, in glory robed, on bended knee,
Reveals the heart of divinity:
The highest One in the lowest place,
Savior of all, full of grace.