Wounds Healed by Wounds

This blog post is part of a series that I began for telling our story. You can read the first post here.

Yesterday, I posted about the hymn below, before we actually sang it in church. I really should know better. Singing a hymn always gives me greater insight than just reading the words (and yes, I get the irony that I’m sharing the words here. I encourage you to sing it if you are so inclined!).

Music has been part of my prayer life for as long as I can remember. I grew up in church. I sang in the choir while still in grade school. I went to Christian camp and school and sang there. Sunday school always included opening with music. There’s something about it that draws me into my relationship with God.

Last night I was having a rough time emotionally. Then I came to church and sang these words, and I marvelled at how many times the word “wound” appears in the hymn. That’s the beauty of these old hymns. The poetry and lyricism that we’ve lost in a lot of modern praise songs. Don’t get me wrong – I love singing those too, more for the music and beat than the actual words. But I return again and again to the hymns for strength and sustenance.

“Jesus, Grant that Balm and Healing”

Jesus, grant that balm and healing
In Your holy wounds I find,
Ev’ry hour that I am feeling
Pains of body and of mind.
Should some evil thought within
Tempt my treach’rous heart to sin,
Show the peril, and from sinning
Keep me from its first beginning.
Should some lust or sharp temptation
Fascinate my sinful mind,
Draw me to Your cross and passion,
And new courage I shall find.
Or should Satan press me hard,
Let me then be on my guard,
Saying, “Christ for me was wounded,”
That the tempter flee confounded.
If the world my heart entices
With the broad and easy road,
With seductive, sinful vices,
Let me weigh the awful load
You were willing to endure.
Help me flee all thoughts impure
And to master each temptation,
Calm in prayer and meditation.
Ev’ry wound that pains or grieves me
By Your wounds, Lord, is made whole;
When I’m faint, Your cross revives me,
Granting new life to my soul.
Yes, Your comfort renders sweet
Ev’ry bitter cup I meet;
For Your all-atoning passion
Has procured my soul’s salvation.
O my God, my rock and tower,
Grant that in Your death I trust,
Knowing death has lost its power
Since You crushed it in the dust.
Savior, let Your agony
Ever help and comfort me;
When I die be my protection,
Light and life and resurrection.