Learning to Sing ~ Finding Joy and Peace

Art thou weary, tender heart?
Be glad of pain!
In sorrow sweetest things will grow,
As flowers in rain.
God watches; thou wilt have the sun,
When clouds their perfect work have done.
- Adelaide Procter

"It is the life closest to the "Man of Sorrows"
who was Himself acquainted with grief
that can bring blossoms of joy and peace.
If His joy is in us, our joy is made full."
- Mrs. Charles E. Cowman

The song I sing is faint and sad,
Yet 'tis of love I'm singing;
And soon it shall be strong and glad
Through realms of glory ringing.

A song of love and sighs today,
Of love and joy tomorrow,
To Him Who poured His life away
Upon the tree of sorrow.
- Anonymous.

"We must learn to sing - to sing as we enter the valleys of shadow.
We sing as we work.  We sing as we rejoice.
Can we sing as we suffer?
How difficult it is to sing when you cannot see beyond affliction.
But the secret is to look beyond the immediate circumstance
and behold the reward in glory."
- Mrs. Charles E. Cowman

~Brittany

Song about Abortion by a precious brother

This is a song about the abortion of unborn children. I wrote it partly protest against an entire industry, fueled by human fear, unbelief, and greed, that exists to cruelly destroy the most helpless members of our society. It's also my personal attempt to somehow express a great load of grief that I feel over the loss of each of these little ones. May the Lord remember them.

https://www.facebook.com/abortioncoun...
http://heartcrymissionary.com/the-gospel

This is by far the hardest song I've written; it's an attempt to capture so many thoughts and feelings that are hardly expressible. It was a weight that I couldn't get off of my chest until I finished it; I had a sense of urgency about it that pushed me through some very exhausting moments.

The tune comes from an old, old folk song called Geordie.

By:  Andrew Romanowitz

Lyrics:

If I could sing for you my song

Some angel's tongue to borrow,

I'd sing for you the whole night long,

Sweet baby of my sorrow

For you were just a mother's child,

As fair as any other;

A friend to me you might have been,

If only to your mother

But he who tore the threads of life

That God's own hand was weaving,

He took his pay and washed his knife,

Nor for his crime was grieving

Oh, life is sweet when love is kind,

But they did not revere it;

The ground in grief and anger cried,

But heav'n alone would hear it

Too small to run, too weak to fight,

Too young to know a warning,

Like thieves they caught you in the night,

And stole away the morning

Who could conceive this dark design?

My heart, it fails within me;

I wish to God you had been mine,

If one among so many

Then sleep in silence, little one,

The morn was nearly breaking;

But cruel hands put out the sun,

And never you'll be waking