Poetry


Jehovah-Jesus

My song shall bless the Lord of all,
My praise shall climb to His abode;
Thee, Saviour, by that name I call,
The great Supreme, the mighty God.
(more…)

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Last night at study we discussed the crucifixion and resurrection narratives, as well as Jesus’ final discourse and themes from the entire gospel. In talking through the parables in chapter 25, I referenced this R.M. McCheyne poem that I love. I hope you are edified by it.


TEN virgins, clothed in white, The Bridegroom went to meet; Their lamps were burning bright To guide his welcome feet. Five if the band were wise -- Their lamps with oil filled high; The rest this care despise, And take their vessels dry. Long time the Lord abode - Down came the shades of night - The weary virgins nod, And then they sleep outright. At midnight came the cry Upon their startled ear - Behold the Bridegroom nigh, To light His steps appear. They trim their lamps; in vain The foolish virgins toil - Our lamps are out, O deign To give us of your oil! Not so - the wise ones cry - No oil have we to spare; But swiftly run and buy, That you the joy may share. They went to buy, when lo! The Bridegroom comes in state; Within those ready go, And shut the golden gate. The foolish virgins now Before the gateway crowd; With terror on their brow They knock and cry aloud:- "Lord open to our call - Hast Thou our names forgot?" Sadly the accents fall - "Depart, I know you not." Learn here, my child, how vain This world, with all its lies, Those who the kingdom gain Alone are truly wise. How vain the Christian name, If still you live in sin:- A lamp, and wick, and flame, No drop of oil within. Is your lamp filled, my child, With oil from Christ above? Has He your heart, so wild, Made soft and full of love? Then you are ready now With Christ to enter in; To see His holy brow, And bid farewell to sin. Sinners! Behold the gate Of Jesus open still; Come, ere it be too late, And enter if you will. The Saviour's gentle hand Knocks at your door to-day But vain his loud demand - You spurn His love away. So, at the Saviour's door You'll knock, with trembling heart The day of mercy o'er, Jesus will say - depart.

I think it no accident that William Cowper (pronounced Cooper) author of the poem God Moves in a Mysterious Way was greatly encouraged by John Newton- the writer of Amazing Grace. Here is one of the mysterious ways that Newton recounts God’s moving in, and one that has encouraged me to find my rest and hope in God alone:

I asked the Lord, that I may grow
In faith, and love, and every grace;
Might more of his salvation know,
And seek more earnestly his face…

I hoped that in some favoured hour,
At once he’d answer my request;
And by his love’s constraining power,
Subdue my sins, and give me rest.

Instead of this, he made me feel
The hidden evils of my heart;
And let the angry powers of hell
Assault my soul in every part.

Yea more, with his own hand he seemed
Intent to aggravate my woe;
Crossed all the fair designs I schemed,
Blasted my gourds, and laid me low.

Lord, why is this, I trembling cried,
Wilt thou pursue thy worm to death?
“‘Tis in this way,” the Lord replied,
“I answer prayer for grace and faith.

“These inward trials I employ,
From self and pride to set thee free;
And break thy schemes of earthly joy,
That thou mayst seek thy all in me.”