Good Friday

I'm a Christian who no longer goes to church. My faith in Jesus remains the same, but I no longer have any faith in organised religion. You've seen the papers and you don't need a sermon from me.

Isaac Watts was one of the first hymn writers. The established church at the time pilloried him for daring to write hymns. The only words that could be used in church were those written in the Bible, and any other words were sacrilege.
It's reassuring to know that nothing changes.

This is, in my opinion, the finest hymn in the English language

When I survey the wondrous cross
on which the Prince of Glory died;
my richest gain I count but loss,
and pour contempt on all my pride.

Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast,
save in the death of Christ, my God;
all the vain things that charm me most,
I sacrifice them to his blood.

See, from his head, his hands, his feet,
sorrow and love flow mingled down.
Did e'er such love and sorrow meet,
or thorns compose so rich a crown.

Were the whole realm of nature mine,
that were an offering far too small;
love so amazing, so divine,
demands my soul, my life, my all.

Isaac Watts 1674-1748

Happy Easter!