What wondrous love is this, O my soul, O my soul!
What wondrous love is this, O my soul!
What wondrous love is this that caused the Lord of bliss
To bear the dreadful curse for my soul, for my soul,
To bear the dreadful curse for my soul.
To God and to the Lamb, I will sing, I will sing;
To God and to the Lamb, I will sing.
To God and to the Lamb Who is the great “I Am”;
While millions join the theme, I will sing, I will sing;
While millions join the theme, I will sing.
Have mercy on me, O God, according to your loving-kindness;
in your great compassion blot out my offenses.
Wash me through and through from my wickedness
and cleanse me from my sin.
For I know my transgressions,
and my sin is ever before me.
Against you only have I sinned
and done what is evil in your sight.
And so you are justified when you speak
and upright in your judgment.
Indeed, I have been wicked from my birth,
a sinner from my mother's womb.
For behold, you look for truth deep within me,
and will make me understand wisdom secretly.
Purge me from my sin, and I shall be pure;
wash me, and I shall be clean indeed.
Your Son took on the form of a human and became humble
for our sake. He became a servant
for our sake. He humbled Himself even unto death
for our sake. He went not onto joy, but first suffered pain
for our sake. He walked the way of the cross
for our sake. He bears the dreadful curse
for our sake. He took on death just
for our sake.
God help me walk the way of the cross
Help me be a witness to the light
Help me speak of Your glory
Help me serve Your people
Help me live as you would have me to live.
Purge me of sin. Wash me and make me clean as snow.
For You. Amen.
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Friday, August 12, 2011
Fiona kicked open the kitchen door and flung the grocery bags onto the kitchen counter. Dripping with sweat, she wiped her hot sticky hair out of her face with the crook of her elbow, closed the door and sat with an audible “hff” in her desk chair. Her open computer jeered at her. The letter she had to write … well, she wasn’t looking forward to it.
Let me follow up the phone calls this afternoon with a note.
And tell you my side of the story, she thought.
I don’t think that anything is going to appear on the nightly news and the newspaper lady lost interest when she was able to call it “domestic unrest.” As I was not arrested for assault, I think all will be well.
It started with a phone call this morning from Teena Davey when she called to tell me her grandmother had been shot in the hip with a waffle iron.