What a great day the Lord gave us yesterday.
Didn’t you love the clarinet, the harmonica and that itty-bitty flute?
Did you sense, as I did, a depth of sobriety in our time of confession during the communion service?
I had this poem with me during communion yesterday but I did not read it because other things came to mind in the moment.
I might have shared the last two lines of it during the communion meditation but I feel like if I did, I only did so during one service and I am kind of suspecting that I might not have done so at all…
Anyhow, when I read it a couple of weeks ago I printed it out and kept it in my go-to file.
It has spoken to me in moments of confession lately.
Now I trust it will do so for you too.
That very blood our sinful hands have shed
Cries loud for mercy, and those wounds do plead
For those that made them; he that pleads, forgives
And is both God and Man – both dead and lives
He whom we murdered become our Guardian;
He’s man to suffer, and He’s God to pardon
Here’s our protection; here’s our Refuge City,
Whose living springs run piety and pity.
Go then, my soul, and pass the common bounds
Of passion; go and kneel before his wounds.
Thou need not fear, the very blood He spilt,
By grace, will plead they pardon, not Thy guilt.
Francis Quarles