Jesus Shall Reign

Photo by Dave Bothwell

The past two weeks I've fought writing. Although my head-knowledge shouts God is in control, my heart-knowledge blocks that truth. This trips me, and I wallow in discouragement. I cry.

No, there's nothing wrong with crying. Sometimes it's a great release and also appropriate. I grieve for our nation and uncertainty "we the people" face, I weep for Israel ~ the apple of God's Eye and my sister's adopted homeland. I wonder and, yes, (hate to admit) worry about our son's future when evaluations are less than "flattering." I doubt when my husband's health declines even more ~ all this comsuming me.

Yet my failure to cling doesn't alter the Almighty's sovereignty. It is I who falls short on a morning-by-morning basis. I must cling to the Hope Rope extended from Jesus' nail-scarred Hands to mine. As discouraged as I was with all the above mentioned, I woke up the day before elections with a hymn on my heart and have made this my Thanksgiving praise...

JESUS SHALL REIGN

By Issac Watts

Jesus shall reign where'er the sun does his successive journeys run;

His Kingdom stretch from shore to shore, till suns shall rise and set no more.

To Jesus endless prayer be made, and praises throng to crown His Head;

His Name like sweet perfume shall rise with every morning sacrifice.

People and realms of every tongue dwell on His Love with sweetest song;

And infant voices shall proclaim their young Hosannas to His Name.

Blessings abound where'er He reigns; the prisoner leaps to lose his chains;

the weary find eternal rest, and all the sons of want are blessed.

Where He displays His healing power death and the curse are known no more;

In Him the tribes of Adam boast more blessings than their father lost.

Let every creature rise and bring its grateful honors to our King'

Angels descend with songs again, and earth prolong the loud amen!

Great God, Whose universal sway the known and unknown worlds obey,

Now give the Kingdom to Thy Son, extend His power, exalt His Throne.

The scepter well becomes His Hands; all Heaven submits to His Commands;

His justice shall avenge the poor, and pride and rage prevail no more.

With power He vindicates the just, and treads the oppressor in the dust;

His worship and His fear shall last till the full course of time be past.

As rain on meadows newly mown, so shall He send His Influence down;

His Grace on fainting souls distills like heavenly dw on thirsty hills.

The heathen lands, that lie beneath the shades of overspreading death,

Revive at His first dawning light; and deserts blossom at the sight.

The saints shall flourish in His days, decked in the robes of joy and praise;

Peace, like a river, from His Throne shall flow to nations yet unknown.