Note: if you actually go to a hymn-writing workshop and show your hymns, you're going to get some edits. This recent hymn has a couple, probably to the better, though there are still a couple of things I'm not satisfied with yet. (Original here.) And yes, the event that provoked the writing of this hymn is two weeks from Monday.
Note 2, 18 August 2019: Another revision, very slight, and a different screen shot of a rearranged score, hopefully more readable.
Note 2, 18 August 2019: Another revision, very slight, and a different screen shot of a rearranged score, hopefully more readable.
With our earthly bodies broken,
While our hopes fade into fear,
Bodies failing or cut open,
Fates we never want to hear:
Where is Christ, the Great Physician?
Where is Jesus’ healing touch?
Dare we question why this torment,
Why we suffer pain so much?
Have we sinned somehow, unwitting?
Have we failed to honor you?
Is there some great deed of service
That we somehow failed to do?
Though your words refute such wond’ring,
Make it clear that’s not your way,
Still we cannot help but question,
Yet there’s nothing left to say.
Still you promise not to leave us,
Though our doubting is not stayed.
You have claimed us in your kingdom,
Though our fears are strong arrayed.
Should we fail yet to recover,
If our wounds can never heal,
Let us not despair of knowing
That your care for us is real.
Text: CSF, 2019.
Music: Suggested tune BEACH SPRING, The Sacred Harp, 1844.
