Sabbath Psalm 4
(from the song, “I Can’t Sing it Loud Enough”)
Oh Lord your works are manifold for all to see. Your beauty is displayed through every strand. The heights, the depths, the threads within this tapestry—all woven in the palm of your good hand. So what is man that you should spare us any thought? Our glory withers like the grass on desert hills. You’ve watched in sorrow all the treachery our hands so long have wrought. It makes no sense that you would love us even still.
You know our frame. You know that we are dust. You see our wretchedness. Yet you redeem us. You bore our shame. You bore the wrath for us. You are our righteousness, oh precious Jesus!
The nails, the thorns, the cross, the scorn were mine to bear. I’ve earned my condemnation o’er and o’er. Instead you bled from foot to head a river there: that washes all my stains forevermore. And I will never understand why you would suffer at my hands; why you would take the fall for me to free me from the Law’s demands; so I can’t sing it loud enough or long enough but I can sing with all I am: Worthy is the Lamb! Worthy is the Lamb!