The Praise of Those Brought Home

WE give Thee thanks, Almighty God, that a soul so great, a heart so warm, as his who wrote those Psalms of Israel, gave us a measure of Thy praise when he calls upon all to praise Thee.

We thank Thee for that great rejoicing cry, that summons of all to praise Thee; for but for it we might fear to take Thy name upon our stained lips. Lord God! if the storm and vapour, the hail and the wind, may praise Thee, may not we complete the joyous song? But, Lord God! these obey Thee; they go whither Thou biddest; they come when Thou callest; but we, rebellious and unclean, shall we sing the song of the Lord? Thy broken law doth dull our strain. Thy forgotten sweetness robs our song of blessing. Shall Thy praise be sung by the unholy, and may Thy name pass our sinful lips? We hear Thy great, sad, sinning, glorious child of old declare that Thou shouldst be praised according to Thy goodness. Lord God! if Thy praise depend upon our goodness, short the measure and feeble the strain; but if according to the measure of what Thou hast given to us, then loud the song and full the strain. So we will praise Thee according to Thy goodness. So, O God most holy! we sinful souls shall not be dumb.

The sea roars and the winds do cry according to their laws; but when Man redeemed lifts up his song of thanksgiving unto Thee, then, Lord God, Thou hearest what nowhere else Thou dost hear. When Thou forgivest a sinner Thou shalt hear a song that the angels cannot sing—the song of those whom Thou hast redeemed. Sweet the song of innocence, blessed the song of the unfallen, but wondrous deep the song of those come back to Thee. Sweet the song of the child who has never left his home, but deeper the song of the poor prodigal returned, the song that trembles almost to breaking, that moves the heart almost to dying. Lord, we can offer Thee this song of the prodigal son returned, the song of home-coming, the song of the delivered, the praise of the free.

Take Thou this, O God most loving! and help us ever to praise Thee with the praise that none else can offer; the praise that the angels cannot give, the praise of man saved, man redeemed, man brought home to God; the cry of the sheep come back to the fold, of the child safe home to the father’s house; the song of the poor prisoner when the night of bondage is over and the morning of deliverance breaks upon him; the song of the prodigal son come back to the father’s love and the mother’s kiss.

So, Great Lover of man! may we, sin-stained, travel-worn, and wretched, yet bring to Thee a praise to which our sadness shall lend sweetness. And if there be times when our voice is too broken by grief to lift itself up to Thee, still let us sing unto Thee the song that hath no words, the inward song that needeth not to be expressed; that so, of all Thy children, not one may miss Thy praise.

Bring us all at last, O God most merciful! O Father most pitiful! into the Life where we shall sing Thy praise more fully, into the land where our trembling voice shall shake no more, where we shall lift up unto Thee the cry of the redeemed, “Not unto us, but unto Thy name be the glory!” Give us now some words of the eternal song, and at last take us to Thyself, and may we be Thine for evermore. Of Thy mercy hear us, through Christ our Lord.—AMEN.