This week has been deeply affecting. Not in crisis, but in a deep heart way. My mood is grave. That sounds old-timey, but it’s all I’ve got. I guess it’s a bit of a crisis of faith. I know what I know, but am I willing to be “a freak and a liability”* for it?
I’ve seen things mighty to behold. Precious. Too elegant, too keen to share. Yet.
This hymn is old. I stumbled across it, again, on an adoption blog, so 2010-ish. I found its story here, and discovered that the writer was no stranger to inner turmoil. I accidentally stumbled across it while searching for something else. I needed this reminder that someone loves me like that.
O Love that wilt not let me go,
I rest my weary soul in thee;
I give thee back the life I owe,
That in thine ocean depths its flow
May richer, fuller be.
I rest my weary soul in thee;
I give thee back the life I owe,
That in thine ocean depths its flow
May richer, fuller be.
O light that foll’west all my way,
I yield my flick’ring torch to thee;
My heart restores its borrowed ray,
That in thy sunshine’s blaze its day
May brighter, fairer be.
I yield my flick’ring torch to thee;
My heart restores its borrowed ray,
That in thy sunshine’s blaze its day
May brighter, fairer be.
O Joy that seekest me through pain,
I cannot close my heart to thee;
I trace the rainbow through the rain,
And feel the promise is not vain,
That morn shall tearless be.
I cannot close my heart to thee;
I trace the rainbow through the rain,
And feel the promise is not vain,
That morn shall tearless be.
O Cross that liftest up my head,
I dare not ask to fly from thee;
I lay in dust life’s glory dead,
And from the ground there blossoms red
Life that shall endless be.
I dare not ask to fly from thee;
I lay in dust life’s glory dead,
And from the ground there blossoms red
Life that shall endless be.
* Elisabeth Elliot referred to herself as seeming a freak and a liability to those to whom she was sent to minister.
