I want a tattoo on my brain,
To remind me of Jesus’ pain,
Caused by me when I sin,
So, I won’t up and do it again.
A Loving Savior, the kindest Boss,
For me He died upon the cross.
But His pain is far from over there,
A wayward child your heart will tear.
When they do wrong they cause you grief,
To change their ways, gives great relief.
He’s no different, though He Loves us more
Than we love our own, that’s for sure.
Now what kind of tat will it be?
A cross of wood, that cursed tree,
Stained with Blood of Christ the Lord,
A symbol of pain, but by me adored.
Draw it with ink inside my head.
So, when I am tempted, I’ll see it instead
Of causing more pain to suffering One,
My Blessed Savior, God’s Holy Son.
The way of the world is to give Him woe,
Though their sins hurt Him, they just don’t know.
The cross, and Him, they hold in contempt
Until that day when they strike their tent.
Better for them if they’d not been born;
Before Him they stand, all hope forlorn.
But the cross is ever before my mind,
An image so gruesome, yet of Love Divine.
So maybe this tat I don’t really need,
But the thought of the cross is really a seed
That bursts from a barren, empty wasteland;
That is the soul of this most sinful man.
From the seed comes a vine of unspeakable love,
No need for tattoo, this vine grows from above.
Tertius
Tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them on your foreheads.
Deuteronomy 6:8
A note about “Tat me Too”: Everybody is doing it nowadays. Don’t much care for tattoos myself. A tattoo on a pretty girl reminds me of graffiti on the Taj Mahal. Sometimes we need physical reminders to remember things (especially at my age), but I see crosses everywhere I look. Not just at the top of church steeple. On power poles, on my interior doors at home, I just counted 80 on the neck of my guitar and the one burned into my mind that my sin is nailed to. If you think what really happened at Golgotha, what it did for you personally, you cannot erase that from your mind. Permanent and others can see it too!