Truthful Pages

It is by your mighty hand that nations rise and fall
To demonstrate you are the Sovereign Lord over all.
Were it true that we too applied this to our lives
And glorify you in every situation as we realize:
We are finite and you are infinitely supreme,
You are sovereign–even when it doesn’t seem.
Cause our minds in gratitude to thank your holy name,
Remind our hearts of future grace when overcome with shame.

I DO NOT SEE into the future clearly–not even my next breath is guaranteed! But right here in the present I’m overwhelmed, even if it is only confined to my heartless head knowledge, with how I’ve failed and am failing even now: in imprudent use of time, lack of resolution, entertainment of prideful, arrogant thoughts which do not glorify you whatsoever. I can’t even begin to count the ways in which I’m so in need of your sanctifying power! And even so, I’m not even fully aware of the full extent of my depravity–nor will I ever! Your gaze pierces to the depths of my sinfulness beyond even what I know…yet you still love me–not because of who I am, but for your great namesake!

Preach to my soul! You, truthful pages I have read,
Remind me of truth when I hear lies upon my bed.
Chain my mind and my heart to this,
A truth that brings me ultimate bliss:
You, precious Lamb, who died in my stead
Ordained that from me, God’s wrath has fled,
And upon you instead, that wrath was relinquished,
The debt was paid, praise you, praise you! It is finished!

The Pain That Makes My Heart To Sing

O the pain that makes my heart to sing,
Directs my eyes to be lifted up to you
Pondering that which I’m now going through
Is great cause to fall before you and to bring
My deepest heart’s questions and thoughts,
Yearnings, sins, and shortcomings inside
Learning my depravity is deeply unqualified.
But now it is you, not I, who have sought
To bring this shame, guilt, fear to naught.

FATHER, YOU ARE holy and most worthy of praise, perfect in justice and mercy. How is it then, that you bestow so much mercy upon me? Why is it that you do not smite me within an instant–for each sin I commit is a cosmic act of high treason, against you. Every time I sin, I choose to not treasure you supremely.

Teach me, sovereign Lord, who wields over all
Bend my corrupt affections, break and bind my will
And to your great end, my evil heart’s desires–kill!
To free my heart to love you, not this sinful gall.
Do I suppose you care not how I use my time?
And am I so foolish and preoccupied to think
You’d, by any means, not drive me to the brink
Of my selfish sight to treasure you only as sublime?
Teach me your great love in knowing my great crime.