Rock Of Ages

The poem below was recently brought to my attention and I wanted to share it with you. I find it interesting that the songs we sing can begin to mean so much to us as we get older. In our youth, with little life experience, we sing the hymns without a whole lot of thought, but as we grow in the Lord and life throws its curveballs, trials come, blessings abound, it seems that one after another, the old hymns take on new meaning and we begin to savour each word and each phrase. We sing with sincerity, with thought, with an outpouring of thankfulness to the Lord. At least, we should!

I get discouraged at times, as I play the piano at church, and look out at the congregation and see faces devoid of emotion. People mumbling the words of a hymn with no expression on their faces. It’s evident that there is no thought for the words they are singing. They are just going through the motions, singing by rote the songs they’ve sung for years, without really stopping to think about what the hymnwriter was trying to convey or what he or she may have gone through in order to write the very song the congregation is so thoughtlessly singing.

I think it’s good sometimes to just stop singing, close your eyes and think about the words to the song. Let the words take on meaning. Praise the Lord in your heart. Thank him for all he’s done. And when you can really mean what you’re singing, then open your mouth and praise Him! Joyfully. Loudly. Worshipfully.

As we go through the seasons of our lives, a beautiful old hymn may take on a different meaning than it did in past years. During times of trial, we may find it difficult to sing the words of a song because they touch us so deeply. In times of blessed abundance and joyfulness, we may sing the songs of praise loudly and to the rooftops, letting all know how excited we are that we are one of God’s children. Whatever the season, take time to think about the words you sing. Don’t get caught up in mouthing the words but feeling nothing. Now, I know we shouldn’t rely on feelings, but we should feel something when we sings praises to the Lord! Our hearts should rejoice in His goodness. Our souls should want to praise Him.

Psalm 100:1-2 Make a joyful noise unto the LORD, all ye lands. Serve the LORD with gladness: come before his presence with singing.

Psalm 95:1-2  O come, let us sing unto the LORD: let us make a joyful noise to the rock of our salvation. Let us come before his presence with thanksgiving, and make a joyful noise unto him with psalms.

Psalm 147:1 Praise ye the LORD: for it is good to sing praises unto our God; for it is pleasant; and praise is comely.

Rock of Ages
by Edward H Rich

"Rock of Ages, cleft for me,"
Thoughtlessly the maiden sung.
Fell the words unconsciously
From her girlish, gleeful tongue;
Sang as little children sing;
Sang as sing the birds in June;
Fell the words like light leaves down
On the current of the tune,--
"Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in Thee."

"Let me hide myself in Thee:"
Felt her soul no need to hide,--
Sweet the song as song could be,
And she had no thought beside;
All the words unheedingly
Fell from lips untouched by care,
Dreaming not that they might be
On some other lips a prayer,--
"Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in Thee."

"Rock of Ages, cleft for me,"
'T was a woman sung them now,
Pleadingly and prayerfully;
Every word her heart did know.
Rose the song as storm-tossed bird
Beats with weary wing the air,
Every note with sorrow stirred,
Every syllable a prayer,--
"Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in Thee."

"Rock of Ages, cleft for me,"--
Lips grown agèd sung the hymn
Trustingly and tenderly,
Voice grown weak and eyes grown dim,--
"Let me hide myself in Thee."
Trembling though the voice and low,
Rose the sweet strain peacefully
Like a river in its flow;
Sung as only they can sing
Who life's thorny path have passed;
Sung as only they can sing
Who behold the promised rest,--
"Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in Thee."

"Rock of Ages, cleft for me,"
Sung above a coffin lid;
Underneath, all restfully,
All life's joys and sorrows hid.
Nevermore, O storm-tossed soul!
Nevermore from wind or tide,
Nevermore from billow's roll,
Wilt thou need thyself to hide.
Could the sightless, sunken eyes,
Closed beneath the soft gray hair,
Could the mute and stiffened lips
Move again in pleading prayer,
Still, aye still, the words would be,--
"Let me hide myself in Thee."