Sorrow and love flow mingled down;
Did e’er such love and sorrow meet,
Or thorns compose so rich a crown?
As I read through the lyrics to Isaac Watts’ “When I Survey” this morning, this—the third verse—particularly caught my attention. The contrast presented in these words is striking and thought provoking. Jesus’ love for us is unsurpassed. It follows no rules, it is truly unconditional. When He gave His life on the cross to make us pure, never before had such a beautiful combination of sorrow and love been created; and none will ever be. Dying for somebody you love is, in my opinion, the most potent way to show your love for someone. Humanity has caught onto this fact, creating beautiful stories of sacrificial love through death—whether it be physical death, or the death of something which hinders the growth of their love.
What the world tends to ignore is the reason we have an inbred sense of beautiful anguish when we hear of such a sacrifice. It exists because we are all presented with the truth of the life that was given to make us pure and give us a future in Heaven with our truest Love—it is weaved into our very being.
19Because that which may be known of God is manifest in them; for God hath shewed it unto them. 20For the invisible things of him from the creation of the world are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made, even his eternal power and Godhead; so that they are without excuse:
We can’t reach the secret depths that hold this truth until we place our faith in Jesus Christ—until we activate our faith, it is simply a truth that molds our way of thinking. In this fact, there is only fleshly denial. Jesus Christ is real. He really came to earth and lived amongst the evil of sin for thirty-three years. He really spoke to the masses and showed them the way. He really suffered persecution because of what He spoke. He really was flogged, beaten, spat on, mocked, and pierced by the nails of His creation’s hatred. Why? It was because of love.
His immortal love for us was proven by the crown of thorns which gashed His innocent head. It was proven by the blood that He shed—in that fountain of scarlet that poured from His speared side. Yet….
That crown which they used for torture, He used for the glory of His Father. The holes which they placed in His head, His hands, His feet, He willingly bore as the mark of our sin. The blood that they spilt, He used to cleanse us. Because of His unsurpassed love, we are free to bask in a platonic love which we only become capable of carrying once we have beheld and accepted the Source of the only real kind of love.
My dad is a musician, and being touched by the lyrics to “When I Survey”, he decided to recreate the song. I hope that you will stop by his blog—eFusions of an Inspired Musician—have a listen, and give him your feedback!