Sunday Songs

I never thought of myself as much of a memorizer. After eleven years of piano lessons, I know not one song by heart. In fact, I break into a cold sweat just thinking about piano recitals. Ugh.

But I am always amazed at the number of song lyrics packed away in my head, especially those learned in church as a child. I grew up singing hymns from the Baptist Hymnal, and even today can tell you the number of my favorite songs — the ones I’d hope someone would request on a Fifth Sunday Sing-a-long night or smile to see appear in the bulletin each wee. #475, Victory in Jesus. #512, The Star-Spangled Banner. #1, Holy, Holy, Holy.

This song is all over the radio these days, and I first heard the arrangement about three months ago in church. I didn’t recognize the verse, but the chorus got to me. I knew the words, the tune, and now frequently have it stuck in my head. But what a song to sing all day! What a thought to carry with you. These are the lyrics to the original, hymn version. For a taste of the new Casting Crowns version, click here.

One Day
J. Wilbur Chapman, 1859-1918

One day when heaven was filled with His praises,
One day when sin was a black as could be,
Jesus came forth to be born of a virgin,
Dwelt among men, my example is He!

Living, He loved me; dying; He saved me;
Buried, He carried my sins far away;
Rising, He justified freely forever;
One day He’s coming — O glorious day!

One day the grave could conceal Him no longer,
One day the stone rolled away from teh door;
Then He arose, over death He had conquered;
Now is ascended, my Lord evermore!

One day the trumped will sound for His coming,
One day the skies with HIs glories will shine;
Wonderful day, my beloved One bringing;
Glorious Savior, this Jesus is mine!

Living, He loved me; dying, He saved me;
Buried, He carried my sins far away;
Rising, He justified freely forever;
One day He’s coming–O glorious day!

And another favorite we sang this morning, too…by Fanny Crosby, my favorite hymn writer of all time. Third Day version, with music, here.

Blessed Assurance
Fanny J. Crosby, 1820-1915

Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine!
Oh, what a foretaste of glory divine!
Heir of salvation, purchase of God,
Born of His spirit, washed in His blood.

This is my story, this is my song,
Praising my Savior, all the day long;
This is my story, this is my song,
Praising my Savior, all the day long.

Perfect submission, perfect delight,
Visions of rapture now burst on my sight:
Angels descending bring from above
Echoes of mercy, whispers of love.

This is my story, this is my song,
Praising my Savior all the day long;
This is my story, this is my song,
Praising my Savior all the day long.

Perfect submission, all is at rest,
I in my Savior am happy and blest:
Watching and waiting, looking above,
Filled with His goodness, lost in His love.

This is my story, this is my song,
Praising my Savior all the day long,
This is my story, this is my song,
Praising my Savior all the day long.

Have a wonderful Sunday!

Curly Girls FTW

For Curly Girls, the daily challenge is to fight frizz, up the volume, and generally try not to look like a cocker spaniel that had a bad run-in with a garden hose. At least, that’s MY daily mission.

For years — about 17 of them — I was in a constant battle with my hair, determined to win, determined alternately to have either sleek strands as seen in magazines or the radiant ringlets of a bygone era. I remember mornings fraught with struggle – my mother, myself, my bangs. Then there was the hair dresser, a family friend, who decided to take a blow-dryer to my hair, sans diffuser, just “to see what we have to work with.” Then I saw the light. (And Angela, master of curly cuts.) And I let my hair win. And though there are times when tensions mount and I think I’m on the verge of hair holocaust, as long as I remember to daily wave the white flag to my follicles, peace remains.

Because while we Curly Girls may see every errant strand, every halo-of-frizz effect, every tired-looking tendril on our own heads, the good news is that the world at-large loves us just the way we are.

So surrender. Let those locks lose. Your hair and a bit of I-Don’t-Care will prove to be the winning combination.