We sang this song at Treasuring Christ Church this past Sunday. I was struck by the confessional natures of the lyrics, the struggling with sin was glaring and not painted over by the happy-clappy joy-joy responses typical of most modern songs. Not surprisingly I discovered the lyrics were penned by the 18th century hymn writer Issac Watts. I went to find it online once I got home, only to learn that it sat unlistened to in my iTunes library buried beneath 3,965 other songs. The version here is updated courtesy of Sandra McCracken and performed by Caedmon’s Call.
Enjoy
| Laden with guilt and full of fears, I fly to Thee, my Lord, And not a glimpse of hope appears, But in Thy written Word The volumes of my Father’s grace Does all my griefs assuage Here I behold my Savior’s face In every page. |
This is the field where, hidden, lies The pearl of price unknown That merchant is divinely wise Who makes the pearl his own Here consecrated water flows To quench my thirst of sin Here the fair tree of knowledge grows, No danger dwells within. |
This is the judge that ends the strife, Where wit and reason fail My guide to everlasting life Through all this gloomy vale Oh may Thy counsels, mighty God, My roving feet command, Nor I forsake the happy road That leads to Thy right hand. |
