O Love that will not let me go

I've started going to a Bible Study that meets on Friday afternoons. We're studying the Psalms of Ascent (Psalms 120 to 134), and it seems like it's going to be a wonderful time of experiencing the real joy (maybe even happiness) that comes from turning to God in times of trouble. I really love these Bible Studies because it's good to see how other people are affected by reading the same things, how the words speak to their hearts and not just my own.

One really daunting but exciting part of this study is that we're writing our own Psalms. That's right. I just said writing our own Psalms. Scary, right? Well, I have to admit that I was not one of the brave souls today who shared her writing. Perhaps in time, but not today. But, I have to say that, though I didn't share today, I was deeply blessed by hearing the women who shared their writing.

I am always so impressed by these women who, though they have followed God for so long, are still so eager to learn more of Him, to know Him more. And, when I heard their writing today, it made me think of how God speaks to us in different ways at different seasons in our lives. It's beautiful, really, but as we read Psalms 120 and 121 this week, each of us in some way identified with the psalmist and his fears. Each of us had different reasons to fear, and God had different words for each of us, spoke to us all in ways that directly addressed our fears.

And the women who read their Psalms today reminded me that, through all my changes, God will still be the same. He will still be the God who speaks to me in my distress, my fear, my worry. "My help comes from the LORD, the Maker of heaven and earth," today and for the rest of my life. Though I will change many times during my stay here on earth, God will not change.

I've been thinking of this everlasting love lately, and this hymn has been a great joy to me. I hope you love it too.

"O Love that will not let me go"

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.

Just a note about this hymn. I've been listening to a really simple and beautiful version of the hymn sung by Chris Rice. The hymn was written by George Matheson. Of the hymn, Matheson wrote,

"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" (from Cyberhymnal).

Can you imagine a more exquisite way to find God in the midst of suffering? Like a dayspring from on high. I love it.