Tuesday, March 14, 2023

My infected nature

364 L. M.
Only by faith.

LORD, I despair myself to heal;
   I see my sin, but cannot feel;
   I cannot, till thy Spirit blow,
   And bid the obedient waters flow.

2 ’Tis thine a heart of flesh to give;
   Thy gifts I only can receive;
   Here, then, to thee I all resign;
   To draw, redeem, and seal,—are thine.

3 With simple faith, on thee I call,—
   My light, my life, my Lord, my all:
   I wait the moving of the pool;
   I wait the word that speaks me whole.

4 Speak, gracious Lord,—my sickness cure,—
   Make my infected nature pure:
   Peace, righteousness, and joy impart,
   And pour thyself into my heart!
                  Charles Wesley
                  Methodist Episcopal hymnal (1870 edition)

<idle musing>
I like that: "Make my infected nature pure." It reflects who we are: infected. I don't buy the theology that says that in the garden the imago dei was destroyed. I've said that it was damaged, but infected is a better word.

It's sick, and without an infusion of Holy Spirit blood, it's on life support. But with an infusion of the Holy Spirit, we become whole again, or as Paul puts it, we are a new creation, the old has passed; the new has come.

Even so, Lord, even so!
</idle musing>

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