Sunday Morning Epiphanies

Sometimes I am so moved by something in church that it takes over my brain for the rest of the day, maybe even the following week. We sang this poem in church this morning as a Confession and it was incredible. It is one of those things that struck me, and, although it is admittedly long, I hope you don't think of me as some church weirdo, but rather that it's something you can identify with as well. I took the liberty of highlighting my favorite verses. I love finding those moments of awe on what should, by all accounts, just be a regular Sunday morning. 

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The Grieved Soul

By: Joseph Hart

Come, my soul and let us try, For a little season,

Ev'ry burden to lay by, Come and let us reason.

What is this that cast you down, Who are those that grieve you?

Speak and  let the worst be known; Speak and God will hear you.

O, I sink beneath the load of my nature's evil!

Full of emnity to God; Captived by the devil.

Restless as the troubled seas, feeble, faint, and fearful'

Plauged with ev'ry sore disease, How can I be cheerful?

Think on what thy Saviour bore in the gloomy garden.

Sweating blood at every pore to procure thy pardon!

See him stretched upon the wood, bleeding grieving crying,

Suffering all the wrath of God, groaning, gasping, dying!

This by faith I sometimes view and those view relieve me;

But my sins return anew, these are they that grieve me.

Nothing good within me dwells; E'en God's love rejected,

Have not I, if any soul, cause to be dejected?

Think how loud thy dying Lord cried out, "It is finished!"

Treasure up that sacred word, whole and undiminished;

Doubt not he will carry on, To its full perfection,

That good work he has begun; Why, then, this dejection?

Faith when void of works is dead; This the Scripture's witness;

And what works have I to plead, who am all unfitness?

All my powers are full of greed, blind to truth, unholy;

If from death I'm fully saved, Why am I not healthy?

Pour not on thyself too long, lest it sink thee lower;

Look to Jesus, kind and strong, mercy joined with power;

Every work that thou must do, will thy gracious Saviour

For thee work, and in thee too, for his laud and honor.

Jesus' precious blood, once spilt, I depend on solely,

To release and clear my guilt, This then makes me holy.

He that bought me on the cross, can control my nature;

Fully purge away my dross; Make me a new creature.

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Amen.