Smeagol is Free!
A hermitudinal view of...stuff...


Greater Still

Jesus, Lover of My Soul

Jesus, lover of my soul, let me to Thy bosom fly,
While the nearer waters roll, while the tempest still is high.
Hide me, O my Savior, hide, till the storm of life is past;
Safe into the haven guide; O receive my soul at last.

Other refuge have I none, hangs my helpless soul on Thee;
Leave, ah! leave me not alone, still support and comfort me.
All my trust on Thee is stayed, all my help from Thee I bring;
Cover my defenseless head with the shadow of Thy wing.

Wilt Thou not regard my call? Wilt Thou not accept my prayer?
Lo! I sink, I faint, I fall—Lo! on Thee I cast my care;
Reach me out Thy gracious hand! While I of Thy strength receive,
Hoping against hope I stand, dying, and behold, I live.

Thou, O Christ, art all I want, more than all in Thee I find;
Raise the fallen, cheer the faint, heal the sick, and lead the blind.
Just and holy is Thy Name, I am all unrighteousness;
False and full of sin I am; Thou art full of truth and grace.

Plenteous grace with Thee is found, grace to cover all my sin;
Let the healing streams abound; make and keep me pure within.
Thou of life the fountain art, freely let me take of Thee;
Spring Thou up within my heart; rise to all eternity.

These words, written by Charles Wesley, serve me well today. We sometimes sing this hymn on Sunday mornings. Depending on how I'm feeling, or what kind of week I've had, I know I will occasionally sing, "Just and holy is Thy Name, I am all unrighteousness; false and full of sin I am..." and just leave it there. Sure, I'll complete the verse, but to be honest with you, I question my way through it, then do much the same with the last verse.

I am wont to ask of the LORD, "Show me my sin!" Foolish follower of Christ that I am, I seem to ask Him that quite often. I need that prayer answered, too, so it's probably good that I pray that prayer. Still, I forget that the illuminating light which He is showing me my sin is the light of His grace. When I feel the numbing sting of sin, that feeling becomes unbearable because I know how soothing is the balm of Christ's reconciling love. When I seem to stumble bitterly in darkness, it is because I know the freedom of beholding the truth of Christ's atoning love. What I am slow to realize is that being His child means that when He seems far away, even when the distance comes from my wandering and spurning of His love, I am wont to be childlike -- I cry for Him when I don't see Him, and I hate the relational strain when I've grieved Him. What is more, I fail to realize that I am being taught something precious: the measure of His grace. This measure is not in direct proportion to my sin, great though that sin is; nay, the LORD's grace is as infinite and precious as the Son whom the Father sent to die. This grace, great though my sin may be, is far, far, far greater than all my sin.

posted by Bolo | 7:05 PM
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