This is my attempt at writing a hymn. It’s a commentary on Colossians 3:3: “For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God.”
I don’t know anything about writing music, but I figured it couldn’t be any harder than writing a poem. You be the judge.
Long ago we once stood under the wrath of God
Long ago we once lived for the filth of Ichabod
Out in the open, upon the war plain,
Famous for our sin, famous for our shame.
Yet in spite of our resistance, you, our Lord, came,
The conquering king who lived, died, and rose again.
You called out our name, and purchased our pardon,
Joined us to God and ushered in our peace with heaven.
Then rose to the sky, high above the clouds,
To sit on the throne as final judge of the end.
Now hid in Christ, dead to darkness, and lowly,
forgiven, cleansed, and with great joy, holy,
We roam as strangers in humble, dull flesh,
Longing for our Lord in this wilderness.
But one day You will return, one day to be revealed,
One day Your glory will shine, our highest ever, revered.
A blast of the trumpet will arrest every man’s eye
on the Lord himself descending from the sky.
And on that same day, drawn to our King,
Among the wild train of heavenly beings,
We, too, will appear in this great story
unashamed children of his matchless glory.
Ichabod means “the glory has departed from Israel.” I don’t really know what “living for the filth of Ichabod” means. Maybe it means living for the pleasures of the world.
Cut me some slack. It rhymed with God. And it has nothing to do with the Sleepy Hollow story.