After a week of messing up and giving up, of looking down and talking down, of not watching over and not bearing under, of letting sin in and letting steam out, what a humbling privilege it is to worship on Sunday. What a privilege to stand before the throne of grace with a worn and weary soul and find rest in the blessed assurance that Christ-my perfect, spotless Righteousness-pleads on my behalf though I deserve to be charged.

At the end of a week of struggle like this one, sometimes my heart is too overwhelmed with emotion to sing words like these: "But God the just is satisfied to look on Him and pardon me." Sometimes my heart is too gripped by the love of my Savior to even open my mouth. Sometimes the awareness of His mercy is alive enough in my heart to render me speechless. And I can't help but to think that if I were rendered silent just a wee bit more, I might find myself sinning just a whole lot less. 



Before the throne of God above
I have a strong and perfect plea.
A great high Priest whose Name is Love
Who ever lives and pleads for me.
My name is graven on His hands,
My name is written on His heart.
I know that while in Heaven He stands
No tongue can bid me thence depart.

When Satan tempts me to despair
And tells me of the guilt within,
Upward I look and see Him there
Who made an end of all my sin.
Because the sinless Savior died
My sinful soul is counted free.
For God the just is satisfied
To look on Him and pardon me.

Behold Him there the risen Lamb,
My perfect spotless righteousness,
The great unchangeable I AM,
The King of glory and of grace,
One in Himself I cannot die.
My soul is purchased by His blood,
My life is hid with Christ on high,
With Christ my Savior and my God!

Hymn Text: Charitie L. Bancroft, 1863