Worshiping in the Depth of Sorrow

12/8/2023

“Attention! Praise the Lord, all you servants of the Lord, who serve in the Lord’s temple during the night. May the Lord, the Creator of heaven and earth, bless you from Zion!” Psalm 134:1, 3

Strange time for adoration, you say, to stand in God’s house by night, to worship in the depth of sorrow —it is indeed an arduous thing. Yes, and therein lies the blessing; it is the test of perfect faith. If I would know the love of my friend I must see what it can do in the winter. So with the Divine love. It is easy for me to worship in the summer sunshine when the melodies of life are in the air and the fruits of life are on the tree. But let the song of the bird cease and the fruit of the tree fall, and will my heart still go on to sing? Will I stand in God’s house by night? Will I love Him in His own night? Will I watch with Him even one hour in His Gethsemane? Will I help to bear His cross up the dolorous way? Will I stand beside Him in His dying moments with Mary and the beloved disciple? Will I be able with Nicodemus to take up the dead Christ? Then is my worship complete and my blessing glorious. My love has come to Him in His humiliation. My faith has found Him in His lowliness. My heart has recognized His majesty through His mean disguise, and I know at last that I desire not the gift but the Giver. When I can stand in His house by night I have accepted Him for Himself alone. “At any cost, dear Lord, by any road!” -George Matheson

Once I heard a song of sweetness,

As it cleft the morning air,

Sounding in its blest completeness,

Like a tender, pleading prayer

And I sought to find the singer,

Whence the wondrous song was borne;

And I sought to find the singer,

Whence the wondrous song was borne;

Pinioned by a cruel thorn.

I have seen a soul in sadness,

While its wings with pain were furl’d,

Giving hope, and cheer and gladness

That should bless a weeping world;

And I knew that life of sweetness,

Was of pain and sorrow row borne,

And a stricken soul was singing,

With its heart against a thorn.

Ye are told of One who loved you,

Of a Saviour crucified,

Ye are told of nails that pinioned,

And a spear that pierced His side;

Ye are told of cruel scourging,

Of a Saviour bearing scorn,

And He died for your salvation,

With His brow against a thorn.

Ye “are not above the Master.”

Will you breathe a sweet refrain?

And His grace will be sufficient,

When your heart is pierced with pain.

Will you live to bless His loved ones,

Tho’ your life be bruised and torn,

Like the bird that sang so sweetly,

With its heart against a thorn?

-Carrie breck