It’s so easy to Worry
But worry is not only a sin against God, it is a sin against ourselves.
It‘s like a slow suicide. We devastate & shortened our lives by it,
We let in the bitter acrid poisons of drop after drop of noxious gall
into our souls moment after moment by not resting in our Fathers hands.
As someone noted
“Faith carries present loads & meets present assaults & feeds on present promises
Faith commits the future to our faithful God.
Its song is,
Keep Thou my feet; I do not ask to see
The distant scene; one step’s enough for me.”
As one has expressed
“The palms of His hands whilst I look on I see
The wounds He received when suffering for me
Oh, how deeply the cruel gravers cut our names in Christ’s dear hands!
Those nails that fastened him to the cross were the graying tools,
and he leaned hard while the iron pierced through flesh & nerve & vein.
Yet the graying is more than that, for the Lord himself says,
I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands.
The sufferings of Christ for us were such that never, by any possibility,
can he forget us.
Since He has died for us, he will never cast us away.
By his death, on this cross, Christ ensured that all those
for whom he died shall live with him in his kingdom as surely
as he Himself lives. He paid not in vain such a tremendous price;
neither will He lose any part of that which he has thus purchased
What a blessed memorial, is not only God’s eternal love,
but Christ’s suffering love!”
He Keeps us as the apple of His eye;
He Hides us in the shadow of His wings
For in the day of trouble He will conceal us in His tabernacle;
In the secret place of His tent He will hide us;
He will lift us up on a rock.
You hide us in the secret place of Your presence from the conspiracies of man;
You keep us secretly in a shelter from the strife of tongues.
Hide us from the secret counsel of evildoers,
From the tumult of those who do iniquity,
Lowth, wrote in the Pericles by Aristophanes:
His powerful speech
Pierced the hearer’s soul, and left behind
Deep in his bosom its keen point infixt.’
So Pindar, Olym. ii. 160:
Come on! thy brightest shafts prepare,
And bend, O Muse, thy sounding bow:
Say, through what paths of liquid air
Our arrows shall we throw?’
Just as we’re graven in His hands & heart
We long for His powerful voice, to live in our inner being
with great elegance & force.
As arrows let these words of Your love enter into our hearts