It's been a long, busy day today, and I am just weary. Classes at the Seminary resumed this morning, and they always have a special chapel service on opening day. Our whole family got to participate. Daniel directed all the music, I played piano, and the children sang beautifully with us, "O Worship The King" and "He Hideth My Soul".
How those songs minister to me! They are precious old hymns that I learned growing up, because my family went to a good church where they sang them. Our hymnbooks never got dusty (tattered, yes, but not dusty), and I tell you, the exquisite language and rich Bible Truths contained in those hymns were written on my heart early in life.
I will take a humble old hymnbook over all those rock-music, vain-repetition, flesh-feeding "praise and worship" songs in the world.
My Dad was always my music director until I reluctantly left the nest. My favorite songs were songs that he sang. He led the church in singing hymns that minister to the soul and not the flesh, and many of those I can sing today from memory, verse by verse. Thank you, Daddy!
I guess I should get to the title of my post! My brother called me today to let me know that my Dad was admitted into the hospital. He and Mom had gone in to their doctor for a check-up, and they detected an irregular heartbeat from Dad's heart. They wanted him admitted in order to observe him and try to get his heart regulated, and that is all I know at this point. I would appreciate it if Christians would pray for Bro. Graham, my dad. Thanks so much!
And now, a couple of verses for you, Dad, from what we sang this morning (but in English :o)...
"A wonderful Savior is Jesus my Lord, He taketh my burden away,
He holdeth me up, and I shall not be moved,
He giveth me strength as my day!
He hideth my soul in the cleft of the rock
That shadows a dry, thirsty land;
He hideth my life in the depths of His love,
And covers me there with His hand,
And covers me there with His hand."
from He Hideth My Soul, by Fanny J. Crosby, 1918
And this one...
"O worship the King, all glorious above,
O gratefully sing His Power and His Love;
Our Shield and Defender, the Ancient of Days,
Pavilioned in splendor, and girded with Praise.
Frail children of dust, and feeble as frail,
In THEE do we trust, nor find Thee to fail;
Thy mercies how tender! how firm to the end!
Our Maker, Defender, Redeemer, and Friend!"
from O Worship the King, by Robert Grant.
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