Sunday Hymn - Not What My Hands Have Done

I rolled into Lagniappe Presbyterian Church in Bay St. Louis, Mississippi yesterday around 4:30 with 16 other NC State students and our campus minister. We're here until Friday morning, and will be doing some kind of work: painting, roofing, general construction, demolition, something. As I was thinking and praying last night, I was struck with and reminded of the truth that there is absolutely nothing I can do to earn my salvation, increase God's love for me, or curry favor with Him. And I gotta tell you, that's good news. If it were up to me, I would fail miserably. Another glorious truth I was reminded of is that, in Christ, I can do nothing to make God love me less.

I woke up this morning still thinking about this truth, and realized that it applies to our trip here as well. If God does not bless this trip, we could all give our best effort and all the details could go right, and we will be a hindrance to the Gospel. But thankfully, joyfully, God is at work. The details could all go haywire, we could feel totally ineffective, and if God has His hand in it, His purposes will be accomplished. I think the hymn I've picked this morning expresses that truth beautifully: praising God for His work in our salvation, recognizing that our works are not to be viewed as work deserving of payment, but rather an overflowing of love and joy that manifests itself as service and love toward others.

Also, if you want to check out the church's website, here's a link: LPC.

Not what my hands have done
Can save my guilty soul;
Not what my toiling flesh has borne
Can make my spirit whole.
Not what I feel or do
Can give me peace with God;
Not all my prayers,
And sighs and tears
Can bear my awful load.

Thy work alone, O Christ,
Can ease this weight of sin
Thy blood alone O Lamb of God,
Can give me peace within.
Thy love to me O God,
Not mine, O Lord, to Thee
Can rid me of
This dark unrest,
And set my spirit free!

Thy grace alone, O God,
To me can pardon speak;
Thy power alone O Son of God,
Can this sore bondage break.
No other work, save Thine,
No other blood will do,
No strength save that,
Which is divine,
Can bear me safely through.

I bless the Christ of God;
I rest on love divine;
And with unfaltering lip and heart,
I call this Savior mine.
His cross dispels each doubt,
I bury in His tomb
My unbelief,
And all my fear,
Each lingering shade of gloom.

I praise the God of grace,
I trust His truth and might
He calls me His, I call Him mine,
My God, my joy, my light
’Tis He Who saveth me,
And freely pardon gives
I love because
He loveth me,
I live because He lives!