Good Friday 2015

Home of our hearts, lest we forget
What our redemption meant to Thee,
Let our most reverent thoughts be set
Upon Thy Calvary.

We, when we suffer, turn and toss
And seek for ease, and seek again;
But Thou upon Thy bitter cross
Wast firmly fixed in pain.

And in our night star-clusters shine,
Flowers comfort us, and joy of song;
No star, no flower, no song was Thine,
But darkness three hours long.

We in our lesser mystery,
Of lingering ill, and winged death,
Would fain see clear; but could we see,
What need would be for faith?

O Lord beloved, Thy Calvary
Stills all our questions. Come, oh come,
Where children wandering wearily
Have not yet found their home.
-Amy Carmichael image

O Thou who art my quietness, my deep repose...

O Thou who art my quietness, my deep repose,

My rest from strife of tongues, my holy hill,

Fair is Thy pavilion, where I hold me still.

Back let them fall from me, my clamorous foes,

Confusions multiplied;

From crowding things of sense I flee, and in Thee hide,

Until this tyranny be overpast,

Thy hand will hold me fast;

What though the tumult of the storm increase,

Grant to Thy servant strength, O Lord,

And bless with peace.

...Amy Carmichael image

Can we follow the Savior far...

Can we follow the Savior far,

who have no wound or scar?

-Amy Carmichael

Tune Thou my harp...

Tune Thou my harp;

There is not, Lord, could never be,

The skill in me.

Tune Thou my harp,

That it may play Thy melody,

Thy harmony.

Tune Thou my harp;

O Spirit, breathe Thy thought through me

As pleaseth Thee.

...Amy Carmichael
 image by Ella Mullins

Think through me, thoughts of God...

Think through me, thoughts of God,

My Father, quiet me,
Till in Thy holy presence, hushed,
I think Thy thoughts with Thee.

Think through me, thoughts of God,
That always, everywhere,
The stream that through my being flows,
May homeward pass in prayer.

Think through me, thoughts of God,
And let my own thoughts be
Lost like the sand-pools on the shore
Of the eternal sea.
...Amy Carmichael image

O Thou who art my quietness, my deep repose...

O Thou who art my quietness, my deep repose,

My rest from strife of tongues, my holy hill,

Fair is Thy pavilion, where I hold me still.

Back let them fall from me, my clamorous foes,

Confusions multiplied;

From crowding things of sense I flee, and in Thee hide,

Until this tyranny be overpast,

Thy hand will hold me fast;

What though the tumult of the storm increase,

Grant to Thy servant strength, O Lord,

And bless with peace.

..Amy Carmichael photo