Ocean Reflections, Part 1

I stood in the ocean today, surrounded by God’s magnificent watery created splendor, whispers of His invisible attributes splashing around me in the waves, and the joy and gratitude floated up and out of me in the words of a favorite hymn.

O love of God, so rich and pure!

So measureless and strong!

It shall forevermore endure,

The saints’ and angels’ song.

The waves pushed and pulled past me toward the shore, tumbling over and under each other, folding themselves perfectly into His symphony, of which I stood witnessing only the tiniest corner, when you consider the breadth of the ocean and the continents between and the miles and miles of shoreline on this planet. There I was, occupying a little tiny speck of His vast creation, where my feet were planted on that one square foot of underwater sand in Ponce Inlet by Orange City, Florida, not far from Daytona.

I couldn’t have stopped that old hymn from pouring out if I’d tried. It came as my heart’s simple cry of thanks to our great God Who loves us and remains sovereign over every germ, scientific law, and manmade ordinance, sovereign indeed over every fear, frustration, and hope.

As I sang, I stared into the waves and marveled at the colors. Not only their intense beauty but the sheer number of them. Clear jade and gleaming aqua, sand and frothy white, the softest sparkling cerulean you’ve ever seen, the palest emerald, hints of amethyst in the shadowy places, and every other shade of blue and green dancing together, sky and water blending in a beautiful reflection of each other that almost blurred the rhythmically shifting line where one ended and the other began.

We shall forevermore endure

The saints’ and angels’ song

His creation, He tells us, declares His glory. The heavens declare the glory of God, and the firmament shows His handiwork. Day unto day utters speech, and night unto night shows knowledge. There is no speech nor language where their voice is not heard. If we kept silent, the very rocks themselves would cry out. He has put a new song in my mouth, even praise unto our God. Many shall see it and fear and shall trust in God. When I consider the heavens, the moon and stars that you have made, what is man that you are mindful of Him?

I returned to my blanket and looked up the full lyrics to read through them again, because there’s something about seeing the words as you sing them, and because I knew I was definitely forgetting at least half of the song. 

I was astounded by what I found, having never before read the hymn story behind these beautiful words. Frederick Lehman and his daughter wrote the refrain and additional stanzas in 1917, after finding the lines scrawled on the wall of none other than an insane asylum! The words traced back all the way to 1050, an Aramaic poem written by Rabbi Meri Bar Yitzack Nehorai, a cantor from Worms, Germany, as an introduction to the reading of the Ten Commandments. The patient had likely heard them in a Jewish liturgy and written them out by memory in a moment of clarity. Here is the story: https://doubleedgemusic.com/love-god-frederick-lehman/

Isn’t that profoundly applicable in countless ways to our own little patch of history that we’re awkwardly making and navigating today? Whatever your situation, whatever is causing you to feel as though you are quite literally losing your mind, the reality of His great love anchors the soul as nothing else can. 

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.

Refrain:

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

When hoary 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.