Monday, November 22, 2010


In our laments we're tossed about
All the sorrows, all the tears
Of our wanderings You have taken account
A wasted wilderness of years.

A remnant of the battle
Though they flow as Jordan rolls
Put our tears in Your bottle.
Are they not found in Your scroll?

A memorial of sorrow
The drops fall from our eyes
Though they cut us to the marrow
They are changed into a prize

In the days of our pilgrimage
In the days of our sojourn
In the devastating damage
There are lessons we must learn

Christ receives our tears
And stores them to his keep
We forget our fondest fears
And in supplication weep

For as the teardrops flow
Our contrition he’ll employ
For as he receives our tears
He returns them as pure joy.

So let mourning turn to dancing
Lamentation turns to praise
Sorrow turns to sustinence
As we turn our eyes to gaze

On the glory of the suffering
In the fellowship of pain
In the surety of the savior
Who turns our loss to gain.

Anthony Foster
November 22, 2010

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