Giving Thanks for a Love That Won’t Let Go

We shared a sweet celebration of love with our church family last night at our Valentine Banquet.  Delicious spaghetti dinner, beautiful decorations, happy kids, musical entertainment that wove together the beauty of romantic love and heavenly Love seamlessly.  As I sat there with friends and family, my kids all a-smile as they cuddled on our knees or danced around the table, the music ministered to my soul.  It was a reminder of all I have been so blessed with and an invitation to slow down and relish the joy of those blessings in that very moment.  My belly may have been full of pasta and cake, but my heart was bursting with thanks!  The music can be simple, familiar, even secular…but when delivered by talented folks whose hearts’ cry is to serve God and give Him the glory, it is indeed a feast for the soul!           

Speaking of music, I leave you today with the lyrics of a hymn we will sing in our worship this morning (O Love That Will Not Let Me Go by George Matheson):

O Love that wilt not let me go, 

I rest my weary soul in thee; 

I give thee back the life I owe,

That in thine ocean depths its flow

May richer, fuller be.

O light that followest all my way,

I yield my flickering torch to thee;

My heart restores its borrowed ray,

That in thy sunshine’s blaze its day

May brighter, fairer be.

O Joy that seekest me through pain,

I cannot close my heart to thee;

I trace the rainbow through the rain,

And feel the promise is not vain,

That morn shall tearless be.

O Cross that liftest up my head,

I dare not ask to fly from thee;

I lay in dust life’s glory dead,

And from the ground there blossoms red

Life that shall endless be.

According to cyberhymnal.org, George Matheson had this to say about his song:

My hymn was com­posed in the manse of In­ne­lan [Ar­gyle­shire, Scot­land] on the ev­en­ing of the 6th of June, 1882, when I was 40 years of age. I was alone in the manse at that time. It was the night of my sister’s mar­ri­age, and the rest of the fam­i­ly were stay­ing over­night in Glas­gow. Some­thing hap­pened to me, which was known only to my­self, and which caused me the most se­vere men­tal suf­fer­ing. The hymn was the fruit of that suf­fer­ing. It was the quick­est bit of work I ever did in my life. I had the im­press­ion of hav­ing it dic­tat­ed to me by some in­ward voice ra­ther than of work­ing it out my­self. I am quite sure that the whole work was com­plet­ed in five min­utes, and equal­ly sure that it ne­ver re­ceived at my hands any re­touch­ing or cor­rect­ion. I have no na­tur­al gift of rhy­thm. All the other vers­es I have ever writ­ten are man­u­fact­ured ar­ti­cles; this came like a day­spring from on high.

May Christ’s love be as a “dayspring from on high” to your heart this Valentine’s Day!

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