May 30th, 2017

Christ is the foundation of the Church

It is 9:17 AM Tuesday morning in the death flow. It is another sunny morning here in West Michigan.

Carol and I got up around 6:15 AM this morning. I made for us a pot of coffee and a pot of oatmeal for breakfast. I ate my mush messing with our main computer. After messing with our main computer I wrote a couple of pages in my paper diary and read for devotions from a book titled, '1 Corinthians' New Testament IXa Reformation Commentary On Scripture Edited By Scott M. Manetsch.

There is not much else to report this morning. I am still very sick with a cold. Life continues down the rail road track. I have no plans for the day ahead of me.

Last night I read my books and went to bed around 11 o'clock PM. I mainly read last night from these two books-

'The Odd Woman and the City' a memoir by Vivian Gornick

'Once Upon a Time: A Floating Opera' a novel by John Barth

Recently Andy (Beth's husband) our son-in-law's father died and he is flying up here to attend the funeral. Andy is bringing with him Louisa and she will be staying with us till Friday evening.

I would write more but there is nothing to write about. All my days are the same. The Lord is good. Look on the sunny side of death.
  • Current Mood
    sick sick

The Church's One Foundation

The Church’s one foundation
Is Jesus Christ her Lord,
She is His new creation
By water and the Word.
From Heav’n He came and sought her
To be His holy bride;
With His own blood He bought her
And for her life He died.

She is from every nation,
Yet one o’er all the earth;
Her charter of salvation,
One Lord, one faith, one birth;
One holy name she blesses,
Partakes one holy food,
And to one hope she presses,
With every grace endued.

The Church shall never perish!
Her dear Lord to defend,
To guide, sustain, and cherish,
Is with her to the end:
Though there be those who hate her,
And false sons in her pale,
Against both foe or traitor
She ever shall prevail.

Though with a scornful wonder
Men see her sore oppressed,
By schisms rent asunder,
By heresies distressed:
Yet saints their watch are keeping,
Their cry goes up, How long?
And soon the night of weeping
Shall be the morn of song!

’Mid toil and tribulation,
And tumult of her war,
She waits the consummation
Of peace forevermore;
Till, with the vision glorious,
Her longing eyes are blest,
And the great Church victorious
Shall be the Church at rest.

Yet she on earth hath union
With God the Three in One,
And mystic sweet communion
With those whose rest is won,
With all her sons and daughters
Who, by the Master’s hand
Led through the deathly waters,
Repose in Eden land.

O happy ones and holy!
Lord, give us grace that we
Like them, the meek and lowly,
On high may dwell with Thee:
There, past the border mountains,
Where in sweet vales the Bride
With Thee by living fountains
Forever shall abide!
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    sick sick