The saints' and angels' song

When he came near the place where the road goes down the Mount of Olives, the whole crowd of disciples began joyfully to praise God in loud voices for all the miracles they had seen:
       “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven and glory in the highest!”
Some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to Jesus, “Teacher, rebuke your disciples!”
“I tell you,” he replied, “if they keep quiet, the stones will cry out.” (Luke 19)


People struggle to express themselves sometimes. Not being able to express yourself is tough. It's awkward.  So typically people revert to creasing up their faces, deadpan humour, suddenly remembering that they have to be somewhere else, or.... yawning. (Yawning is a really excellent way to diffuse awkwardness. Try it some day.)

When you really are compelled to go ahead and express yourself using words, people for centuries have fallen back on poetry, song and story to try and wrap their arms around emotions that are so real words seem flat and woolly in comparison.

One of the coolest things about Jesus is that he is better and greater than the most flowery accolades could depict him. Jesus is effectively exaggeration-proof.

Auden in 'As I walked out one evening' does a good job of conveying how love songs (by definition) promise more than they ever deliver:

 And down by the brimming river
   I heard a lover sing
Under an arch of the railway:
   'Love has no ending.


'I'll love you, dear, I'll love you
   Till China and Africa meet,
And the river jumps over the mountain
   And the salmon sing in the street,


'I'll love you till the ocean
   Is folded and hung up to dry
And the seven stars go squawking
   Like geese about the sky.


'The years shall run like rabbits,
   For in my arms I hold
The Flower of the Ages,
   And the first love of the world.' (W.H Auden, 1940)

Not so with the songs that speak of the love of God. Not so.


The love of God is greater far
Than tongue or pen can ever tell;
It goes beyond the highest star,
And reaches to the lowest hell;
The guilty pair, bowed down with care,
God gave His Son to win;
His erring child He reconciled,
And pardoned from his sin.


O love of God, how rich and pure!
How measureless and strong!
It shall forevermore endure
The saints’ and angels’ song.


When years of time shall pass away,
And earthly thrones and kingdoms fall,
When men, who here refuse to pray,
On rocks and hills and mountains call,
God’s love so sure, shall still endure,
All measureless and strong;
Redeeming grace to Adam’s race—
The saints’ and angels’ song.


Could we with ink the ocean fill,
And were the skies of parchment made,
Were every stalk on earth a quill,
And every man a scribe by trade,
To write the love of God above,
Would drain the ocean dry.
Nor could the scroll contain the whole,
Though stretched from sky to sky.

                                                   (Frederick Lehman, 1917)