Oh, Precious Mystery (Repost)

Oh, precious mystery, that my Creator,
who fills the universe—earth, sea and sky—
came to be born within a lowly stable,
on manger bed in swaddling clothes did lie.

Oh, precious mystery, what matchless glory
and boundless wealth Christ Jesus left behind;
though He was rich beyond all comprehension,
bore pain and poverty with lowly mind.

Oh, precious mystery, with life eternal,
He tasted death on earth for you and me;
though He was buried, yet He rose triumphant
and lives today to set sin's captives free.

Refrain:
Oh, precious mystery, the High and Holy
who fills the universe—earth, sea and sky—
The great "I AM," who spoke the worlds to being,
for me He came, to suffer and to die.

fpn/1963
This poem is set to music as song #13 in "Sing and Give Thanks"
Contact Joyce for a copy.



Artwork: "Adoration of the Child" by Gerard van Honthorst, 1620, from Wikimedia Commons

Our Matchless Lord (Repost)

Royalty, born in a stable
with no regal robes to wear.
Wrapped in bands, oft used as grave clothes.
He would die, our sins to bear.

Paradox beyond explaining
that the highest of the high
chose to live in flesh among us,
learning what it is to cry.

Strategy of God, victorious,
subtle enemies to foil;
ruthless tyrants thus evading,
identified with men of toil.

Sinless spirit - human body -
with no taint of sin or guile,
demonstrating that one human
did live justly all the while.

Prophecies of old fulfilling,
so precisely - not a few
giving details of his coming -
life, death, resurrection, too.

Mystery - that his great power
so transforms a sinful soul,
changing lives from loss to profit,
untamed drives to self-control.

Destiny? There's no more guessing.
Heaven and earth shall both be new.
Christ came down to live among us.
We shall rise when life is through.

fpn 12/82




Photo by Ryan Graybill on Unsplash

Oh, Precious Mystery

Oh, precious mystery, that my Creator,
who fills the universe—earth, sea and sky—
came to be born within a lowly stable,
on manger bed in swaddling clothes did lie.

Oh, precious mystery, what matchless glory
and boundless wealth Christ Jesus left behind;
though He was rich beyond all comprehension,
bore pain and poverty with lowly mind.

Oh, precious mystery, with life eternal,
He tasted death on earth for you and me;
though He was buried, yet He rose triumphant
and lives today to set sin's captives free.

Refrain:
Oh, precious mystery, the High and Holy
who fills the universe—earth, sea and sky—
The great "I AM," who spoke the worlds to being,
for me He came, to suffer and to die.

fpn/1963
This poem is set to music as song #13 in "Sing and Give Thanks"
Contact Joyce for a copy.



Photo: Deposit Photos 19584681, Standard License

Our Matchless Lord

Royalty, born in a stable
with no regal robes to wear.
Wrapped in bands, oft used as grave clothes.
He would die, our sins to bear.

Paradox beyond explaining
that the highest of the high
chose to live in flesh among us,
learning what it is to cry.

Strategy of God, victorious,
subtle enemies to foil;
ruthless tyrants thus evading,
identified with men of toil.

Sinless spirit - human body -
with no taint of sin or guile,
demonstrating that one human
did live justly all the while.

Prophecies of old fulfilling,
so precisely - not a few
giving details of his coming -
life, death, resurrection, too.

Mystery - that his great power
so transforms a sinful soul,
changing lives from loss to profit,
untamed drives to self-control.

Destiny? There's no more guessing.
Heaven and earth shall both be new.
Christ came down to live among us.
We shall rise when life is through.

fpn 12/82