I Cannot Tell. . .

This past Sunday we all made it to church after a little break. It was a typical Sunday. Racing to get ready, breakfast, drinks, diapers, brushing teeth, and then finally, putting make-up on in the car. Lovely, isn't it? How in this craziness are we suppose to sit in a pew, and one, keep our kids quiet until the "children's message", and then two, focus and worship? Is it possible for us to commune with God in the crazy moments? I think yes, but it is not easy. Well, this past Sunday I experienced a very sacred moment while struggling through another hymn that I had never heard. We began to sing this old Irish hymn that, like I said, was new to me. The words were beautiful and though the Scots Church is a small congregation, we sounded like thousands belting out an anthem. It was so moving. It was one of those moments when you could tell that others were experiencing the same thing. Okay, I know that living my Christian life from one emotional high to another is not necessarilly the way to go, but this was a sweet gift and for that I am thankful.

Read the words. Let them soak into your soul.

"I Cannot Tell"

I cannot tell how he whom angels worship
should stoop to love the peoples of the earth,
or why as shepherd he should seek the wanderer
with his mysterious promise of new birth.
But this I know, that he was born of Mary,
when Bethlehem's manger was his only home,
and that he lived at Nazareth and labored,
and so the Savior, Savior of the world, is come.

I cannot tell how silently he suffered,
as with his peace he graced this place of tears,
or how his heart upon the cross was broken,
the crown of pain to three and thirty years.
But this I know, he heals the broken-hearted,
and stays our sin, and calms our lurking fear,
and lifts the burden from the heavy laden,
for yet the Savior, Savior of the world, is here.

I cannot tell how he will win the nations,
how he will claim his earthly heritage,
how satisfy the needs and aspirations
of east and west, of sinner and of sage.
But this I know, all flesh shall see his glory,
and he shall reap the harvest he has sown,
and some glad day his sun shall shine in splendor
when he the Savior, Savior of the world, is known.

I cannot tell how all the lands shall worship,
when, at his bidding, every storm is stilled,
or who can say how great the jubilation
when every heart with perfect love is filled.
But this I know, the skies will thrill with rapture,
and myriad, myriad human voices sing,
and earth to heaven, and heaven to earth, will answer:
'At last the Savior, Savior of the world, is King!'