I love this hymn below written by Isaac Watts in 1707. Given the state of this world this Easter and Holy Week, I have found I am more engaged in things than years past; not that I’m less busy or tired! Ha.. ha?? Not sure how i should feel about that. But either way, the outside distractions are just different as we shelter in place. I’m busy all day long but in new ways. I have the people and tasks right but only what is right in front of me. My headspace has been freed up / redirected. Along with it all, we were able to discuss, celebrate, meditate during Palm Sunday, talk with the kids at length about Holy Week and with anticipation, could count down to Good Friday and then Easter Sunday.
I don’t comprehend my faith in God perfectly every day, and certainly not as much as I once thought I did, His sovereignty, beauty, truth, hope, joy, peace, and forgiveness are central to the core of my soul. New aspects are added as the years march on. The more I learn, the more I’m acutely aware how much I have left to learn. This last year, I fell in love with the richness in the church calendar and focusing on the yearlong celebration. And then there’s the elements of the historical church that have enlivened me in my devotion—the creeds, the canticles, the prayers and the other liturgical practices that have helped me to better honor Christ in my life.
Sometimes places of growth have actually kept me more reserved at times, unsure how to put words to the inner workings of my beliefs.. but they’re there, and I’m glad to be in this place. As this walk of faith has deepened, I have taken heart in psalms and hymns that help put words to the waters of the heart. Hymns such as this one, which was especially resonating throughout this Holy Week. I hope this coming season of Eastertide is beautiful for you, and the promise of beginnings in Him is bountiful in your lives. Alleluia! He is risen!
Was it for crimes that I had done
He groaned upon the tree?
Amazing pity! grace unknown!
And love beyond degree!
Well might the sun in darkness hide
And shut his glories in,
When Christ, the mighty Maker died,
For man the creature’s sin.
Thus might I hide my blushing face
While His dear cross appears,
Dissolve my heart in thankfulness,
And melt my eyes to tears.
But drops of grief can ne’er repay
The debt of love I owe:
Here, Lord, I give my self away
’Tis all that I can do.