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Song of Water

by Lars Gindler


O hear the ancient song of water deep,

Cymbals of crashing waves as echoes leap.

Or rather, quiet ballad of the brook,

Which ornaments the peaceful woodland nook,

And storm ring out, ye mighty tempest strain!

The song of gale; the sound of pouring rain!

But for what purpose do these features ring?

Of God’s great glory do they tell and sing!

Above the murky waters, there he spake,

And by his Word, all things, then, did He make.

For the Lord made the river’s rushing roar,

He made the ocean, and he made the shore.

He made the brook and wood, the gale and rain,

And for our souls, he suffered death and pain.

And He, who for us bled and for us died,

Where blood and water flowed from the piercéd side,

Upon the cross, these mighty things were done,

And by it was the final battle won!

But did he perish, killed, in vain? Not so!

He lives, over eternal life to reign,

And though our sins are deep and dark and great,

By His great work, he saves us from our hate.

As in the Jordan River we are washed,

Our sins are covered; He has paid their cost,

And once more, now, with Water and the Word,

In Baptism, we are in Him secured.

To you, He bestows freely perfect Grace,

That we shall meet him on the last of days,

Then, never will a tear fall from your face,

For He will raise us to his heav’nly place,

Where fonts of living water thirst relieve.

We sing these things are true, and so believe!

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