Opus #9

(With appreciation and apologies to R.L. Stevenson...)

The rain is raining all around,

It falls on field and tree,

Reflects the teardrops on my cheek,

While grief envelops me.

The wind keeps whistling merrily,

It mocks my deep despair - 

Pretended joy and happiness, 

Mere castles in the air.

The thunder roars despondent din,

My silence I must keep,

Yet agony is thus proclaim’d,

As deep calls unto deep.

The gloomy grey of clouds above

Shrouds sunshine warm and bright.

The frigid air lays bare my heart:

I wish for death or flight.

Oppressed...forlorn? Abandon’d not!!!

I’m safe beneath His wing,

And though the tempest rages on,

To Christ I clasp and cling.

He holds me fast, my Sanctum true,

Through torrent, gale, and wave,

His grasp is firm; He won’t betray,

I trust in Him to save.

When deluge whelms, He anchors me,

My storm-toss’d soul He calms,

My Ark amid the tumult fierce,

Soul’s Harbor, Home, and Balm.

© Lynne Bourgault Spear, 2007

God Moves in a Mysterious Way

“You do not realize now what I am doing, but later you will understand.”

John 13:7

God Moves in a Mysterious Way
by William Cowper

God moves in a mysterious way

His wonders to perform;

He plants His footsteps in the sea

And rides upon the storm.

Deep in unfathomable mines

Of never failing skill

He treasures up His bright designs

And works His sovereign will.

Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take;

The clouds ye so much dread

Are big with mercy and shall break

In blessings on your head.

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,

But trust Him for His grace;

Behind a frowning providence

He hides a smiling face.

His purposes will ripen fast,

Unfolding every hour;

The bud may have a bitter taste,

But sweet will be the flower.

Blind unbelief is sure to err

And scan His work in vain;

God is His own interpreter,

And He will make it plain.

A Bitter Bud

We’re not necessarily doubting that God will do the best for us; we are wondering how painful the best will turn out to be. 


C.S. Lewis

We were promised sufferings. They were part of the program. We were even told, “Blessed are they that mourn.” 


C.S. Lewis

---

I’m sorry for the long absence. I took some time off for Christmas and then January hit, and hit hard.

Our family, both nuclear and extended, has been walking through difficult times. We each have a long and painful path ahead.

In the past, I would have prayed for the Lord to move me through this valley as quickly as possible, impatiently running full bore to reach the end. But as I survey our current landscape, I begin to see that I would have been crushed had the pain come all at once. At times it felt as if I would be, but his grace is sufficient and has meted the grief out slowly over time. His desire is not to crush, but to purify and make us into the glorious image of his Son. His motive is not punishment, but love - he wants us to learn more deeply that he is our only hope.

---

Jehovah-Rophi. I Am the Lord That Healeth Thee

(Exodus 15:26)
by William Cowper

Heal us, Emmanuel! here we are, 

Waiting to feel Thy touch: 

Deep-wounded souls to Thee repair

And, Saviour, we are such.

Our faith is feeble, we confess, 

We faintly trust Thy word; 

But wilt Thou pity us the less? 

Be that far from Thee, Lord!

Remember him who once applied, 

With trembling, for relief; 

"Lord, I believe," with tears he cried, 

"Oh, help my unbelief!"

She too, who touch'd Thee in the press, 

And healing virtue stole, 

Was answer'd, "Daughter, go in peace, 

Thy faith hath made thee whole."

Conceal'd amid the gathering throng, 

She would have shunn'd Thy view;

And if her faith was firm and strong, 

Had strong misgivings too.

Like her, with hopes and fears we come, 

To touch Thee, if we may; 

Oh! send us not despairing home, 

Send none unheal'd away!