Our lamentations weave garments of praise
Our visceral groanings the Spirit relays
When in utter dependence we fall on our face
When our groanings are given to the God of all grace
An eternal weight of glory will one day be ours
But they weigh so heavy in the troublesome hours
When the wounded worship it is without guile
Christ is with us there all the while
To mourn with joy over what was —
and gladly receive what is now and will be.
This is the mournful mystery
The wounded worship that sets us free
In the righteousness of Calvary.
Bridge
When pain brings crisis and death brings loss
Can all be offered up there at the cross
When we are fallen on our face
Our suffering souls cast headlong on grace
When devastated dreams are drawn
When friends forsake us and are gone
In affliction we learn His decrees
Freed from the bondage of comfort and ease.
In mourning and woe To bitterly weep
For the pain of a people as Sin’s harvest they reap
The God of consolation meets us on our knees
Consoles our souls and then our soul frees
To mourn with joy over what was —
and gladly receive what is now and will be.
This is the mournful mystery
The wounded worship that sets us free
In the righteousness of Calvary.
Ps 119:71
2 Cor 4:17
December 11, 2022
Anthony Foster
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