how is it that i have been searching for You in the face of other lovers? it is easy to lose sight, because it seems more conveniently logical to credit more faith in things seen than unseen -- but of course, that instantly defies the meaning of faith.
until i am able to sing, that through it all, it is well with my soul, i will learn to fix my gaze on you
i put all my hope on the truth of your promise
i steady my heart on the ground of your goodness
when i'm bowed down with sorrow, i will lift up Your name
and the foxes in the vineyard will not steal my joy
because you are good to me
i lift my eyes to the hills where my help is found
your voice fills the night -- raise my head up to hear the sound
when the fires burn all around me, i will praise You my God
and the foxes in the vineyard will not steal my joy
because you are good to me
sometimes marx's statement that "religion is the opiate of the masses" taunts me, and when i reject it in my head, i fear suffering from a mere case of "false consciousness". but how can something so beautiful not be real? what is good is beautiful, and what is beautiful must be real.
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