The Valley of Vision

I recently bought a book called The Valley of Vision. It is a collection of Puritan prayers and meditations in verse. It has been a great experience for me to read through these reverent, eloquent, and imaginative poems. I would recommend the book to anyone, especially someone interested in worship and how we relate to God. The following poem, entitled "The Mover," is a great example of the wonderful, deep theology found in the collection.

O Supreme Moving Cause,
May I always be subordinate to thee,
   be dependent upon thee,
   be found in the path where thou dost walk,
      and where thy Spirit moves,
   take heed of estrangement from thee,
      of becoming insensible to thy love.
Thou dost not move men like stones,
   but dost endue them with life,
   not to enable them to move without thee,
   but in submission to thee, the first mover.
O Lord, I am astonished at they difference
   between my receivings and my deservings,
   between the state I am now in and my past gracelessness,
   between the heaven I am bound for and the hell I merit.
Who made me to differ, but thee?
   for I was no more ready to receive Christ than were others;
I could not have begun to love thee hadst thou not first loved me,
   or been willing unless thou hadst first made me so.
O that such a crown should fit the head of such a sinner!
   such high advancement be for an unfruitful person!
   such joys for so vile a rebel!
Infinite wisdom cast the design of salvation
   into the mould of purchase and freedom;
Let wrath deserved be written on the door of hell,
But the free gift of grace on the gate of heaven.
I know that my sufferings are the result of my sinning,
   but in heaven both shall cease;
Grant me to attain this haven and be done with sailing,
   and may the gales of thy mercy blow me safely into harbour.
Let thy love draw me nearer to thyself,
   wean me from sin, mortify me to this world,
   and make me ready for my departure hence.
Secure me by thy grace as I sail across this stormy sea.

Soli Deo Gloria

My Song Is Love Unknown

I found a great hymn recently and decided to dust off the ol' blog and share it here. It is entitled My Song Is Love Unknown, and was written by the Anglican minister and hymnwriter Samuel Crossman (1623-83). I've known this hymn for a while but really hadn't stopped to reflect on its great truths until recently. The tune, Love Unkown by English composer John Ireland, is marvelous as well and deserves to be better known than it is.

My Song Is Love Unkown

My song is love unknown,
My Saviour’s love to me;
Love to the loveless shown,
That they might lovely be.
O who am I, that for my sake
My Lord should take frail flesh and die?

He came from His blest throne
Salvation to bestow;
But men made strange, and none
The longed-for Christ would know:
But O! my Friend, my Friend indeed,
Who at my need His life did spend.

Sometimes they strew His way,
And His sweet praises sing;
Resounding all the day
Hosannas to their King:
Then “Crucify!” is all their breath,
And for His death they thirst and cry.

Why, what hath my Lord done?
What makes this rage and spite?
He made the lame to run,
He gave the blind their sight.
Sweet injuries! Yet they at these
Themselves displease, and ’gainst Him rise.

They rise, and needs will have
My dear Lord made away;
A murderer they save,
The Prince of life they slay,
Yet cheerful He to suffering goes,
That He His foes from thence might free.

In life no house, no home
My Lord on earth might have;
In death no friendly tomb
But what a stranger gave.
What may I say?
Heav'n was His home,
But mine the tomb wherein He lay.

Here might I stay and sing,
No story so divine;
Never was love, dear King!
Never was grief like Thine.
This is my Friend, in Whose sweet praise
I all my days could gladly spend.

Soli Deo Gloria