For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is his steadfast love toward those who fear him, as far as the east is from the west, so far does he remove our transgressions from us. As a father shows compassion to his children, so the LORD shows compassion to those who fear him. For he knows our frame; he remembers that we are dust.
A Sonnet, Melodious or Otherwise
Yesterday I challenged you to try your hand at writing a sonnet. Here’s my effort.
No Cowper, Crosby, Newton, Watts, or Stowe
Can wring the language dry of rave acclaim
Of Christ whose attestations tower higher. No!
Their pens run out of ink before the Name
Finds written all that poets could describe
Of endless power, limitless domain.
Not every fluent tongue from every tribe
If speaking all at once could ever drain
The lexicon of that which could be said
About the One who gives his son to die,
The One who raises Jesus from the dead.
The poets fail. The hymnists, too. And I.
We know we fail, but strive for lyric lines
To voice our happy praise of his designs.