Our God is great and good, eternally!
Receiving praise through battle and victory hymn,
The Lord sits reigning on his glorious throne
Among four creatures, angels, and cherubim,
In splendor and might; above the heaven’s dome,
He guides the affairs of man, and blesses him
Who wavers not against the enemy.
Your favor now to us, O Savior, send!
Let blessings fall, let Jesus with us stay!
Produce in us, O Lord, the Spirit’s fruit!
And let us work to let you have your way.
If in the word of God we have no root,
And if no prayers ascend throughout the day,
How barren will our souls be at the end!
Please tell why people do not rush to obey
The Lord of lords and King of kings—they fiddle!
No full devotion! They move with feet of clay,
And claim to seek a balance, the perfect middle—
Neither overly wicked nor righteous lives.
The slow to follow Christ—ah! What a riddle!—
Will quickly plead for mercy when He arrives.
The Lord gives plenteous grace and glory—
His grace creates identity,
Removes us from the adversary;
His glory gives purpose we can see,
A work from which we dare not vary—
He’s sun and shield, what repertory!
O Lord, can clay complain to the Potter?
And say, Why did you make me this way?
Why did you treat me in this manner?
Why do I not have the shape or color
Of that beautiful, privileged pot? Why not
A better quality of clay for me?
Of course not! So why do I question
Your wisdom, smolder resentful,
And pout at my defects—‘Poor me!’
I do. You know I do. And still
You work to mold me, ungrateful vessel
That I am. In fear, I wonder:
Might you tomorrow decide to quit,
Abandon this clay, and start anew?