Saturday, February 26, 2011

16. Word Hymn

Last night, just before I fell asleep, the first few lines of this hymn came into my mind. In my mind's ear, I sang it to the well-known tune AURELIA, at least to make sure that it scanned correctly. Of course, I am open to other nominations from hymn-tune aficionados, as well as your specific and constructive criticism.
O Christ, Word all-creating,
Whose Father worketh still,
And who Thyself yet workest
To do Thy Father's will:
In hearts that now lie fallow,
Pray, plant the seed of Thee;
Feed, cultivate, and prune it,
That it Thy branch may be.

By Thee, o'er chaos spoken,
All things that are were formed;
By Thee, the Word Incarnate,
Great wonders were performed.
Thine Ephphatha now open
Our doubting, scaly eyes;
Our dead, unwilling spirits
Wake to Thy call, Arise!

O Promise that, once plighted,
Returnest not in vain,
Come forth with speed among us,
Fulfill Thine oath again:
Be in the midst of us who
Now gather in Thy name,
And let Thy quick'ning pardon
Be breathed upon the same.

Thy Word declareth water
A spiritual flood,
Proclaimeth loaf and chalice
Thy body and Thy blood;
Henceforth what Thou hast spoken
Let no man answer Nay;
For where Thy Word is given,
In Thee all things are Yea.

Thy Word cannot be broken,
For Thou canst never lie,
Howso the men that bear it
May falter, fail, or die:
In Thee is our assurance,
In Thee our hope of heav'n,
That realm of life and spirit
Which spreadeth e'en as leav'n.

Thy Word hath boundless pow'r, Lord;
Forbid that it be bound!
For in it Thou yet workest,
In whom all strength is found.
And if Thou, with our nature,
Art One eternally,
Thy promise nor Thy presence
Far from our race can be.