2 Corinthians 2:15 (KJV)

For we are unto God a sweet savour of Christ, in them that are saved, and in them that are perishing.

We are the fragrance of the Crucified,

A scent no artifice can mask or mend;

What secret altar we have deified

Will through our every motion rise and rend.

Some glory self, and breathe a charnel fume—

Rank pride’s thick incense, lust’s corrupting musk,

Ambition’s reek that fills the narrow room

And leaves the soul a shroud of mortal dusk.

But those who kneel where blood and mercy meet,

Who drink the myrrh of Golgotha’s dark tree,

Become themselves a living incense sweet—

The very breath of heaven’s amnesty.

To some we are the sharp foretaste of death,

A gale that warns the unrepentant soul;

To others, life’s first Eden-scented breath,

The rose of paradise made whole.

O saint, keep pure the censer of thy heart!

Let no strange fire profane the holy flame;

Be thou so steeped in Christ that men, apart

From words, still catch the savour of His Name.

For all earth’s perfumes fade as morning mist,

And every crown dissolves in common dust;

But he who glories in the Saviour’s scars

Shall walk forever wrapped in heaven’s trust.

When time is rent and every veil is torn,

That fragrance shall precede thee to the throne—

Not thine, but His, eternally reborn,

The aroma of the Lamb, and His alone.