Words Words Words 4/5/14

And now, O Son, let there be light
So we can see the way aright
Between two dismal forms of death,
And with that light, O give us breath
To live again, and bring us back
From pleasures in a foreign shack,
Or from the pride of weary arm,
While working on the Father’s farm.
From demon sloth and pleasures raw,
Or demon toil and pride of law.
The pathway home from either place
Is opened by the word of grace.
O Son, pursue us till we see
That all of His bequests are free.
The ticket that we have to show
Is this: that we are glad to go.

— John Piper