All posts by Blessy L

More Love To Thee

More love to thee, O Christ,
More love to thee!
Hear thou the prayer I make
On bended knee;
This is my earnest plea,
More love, O Christ, to thee,
More love to thee,
More love to thee.

Once earthly joy I craved,
Sought peace and rest;
Now thee alone I seek;
Give what is best:
This all my prayer shall be,
More love, O Christ, to thee,
More love to thee,
More love to thee.

Let sorrow do its work,
Send grief and pain;
Sweet are thy messengers,
Sweet their refrain,
When they can sing with me,
More love, O Christ, to thee,
More love to thee,
More love to thee.

Then shall my latest breath
Whisper thy praise;
This be the parting cry
My heart shall raise,
This still its prayer shall be,
More love, O Christ, to thee,
More love to thee,
More love to thee.

My heart’s desire


My heart aches, regardless of any other cause than something I, myself, couldn’t understand. It couldn’t be just mere gloom and depression. Something more should’ve caused it. I may be irrationally emotional at some time – that I’d scrunch seeing urine-stains on Hersteld, my very dear piano, and Rere (my sweetest begotten kitten) poops on my most precious Christmas pillow – but I know my edge well and I could tell it’s something radical and quintessential. ‘Tis something I cannot understand lest anyone  passionately explains it to me.

As I just recently lifted Rere up – telling her to stop playing with my earphone chord , something lashed my heart again. It’s the lyrics. The lyrics of Laura Williams’s version of “Battle Hymn”. The lyrics itself caused my brain to slow down from relenting and my heart from crashing especially during the parts that caught me off-guard.

Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord;
He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored;
He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword;
His truth is marching on.
He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat;
He is sifting out the hearts of men before His judgment seat;
Oh, be swift, my soul, to answer Him! be jubilant, my feet;
Our God is marching on.
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Our God is marching on.

In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea,
With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me:
As He died to make men holy, let us live to make men free;
While God is marching on.
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! While God is marching on.

Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Our God is marching on.

His truth is marching on!

The lyrics in bold… they struck me best, as in deep to the nanoscopic part of my soul. I realized how, as time passed wasted for self, I forgot what He taught me in the past. How lovely His life on earth was, from birth to His death. How He smiles despite the griefs and sins that He bore. How He lived not for His own irrefutably indisputable glory but for those who do not deserve it. How he cried out to the weary and oppressed that He may carry their burdens, the sorrowful that He may give them joy, the troubled that He may give them peace, and the longing that He may come to them with gladness, and the lepers… that He may heal completely their wounded souls by shedding His precious blood afresh which freed me from death and transfigured me to His perfection I never deserved.

The thought of not having come to Christ for long moved me. It seemed so long, indeed. My life has changed so much. But albeit unbecoming, I could never understand even, why I have been writing still – awaiting for His salvation. Maybe because of grace. It could be because of the Holy Spirit’s whispers which I ‘have not and cannot’ anticipate but have always felt.

Satan’s rabbits run after me and his arrows are before me, this I know, but despite of all the upsetting decisions and wrong choices I made – turning my head away from God, I, in great shame, still trust that He is with me still – protecting me.

Oh that I may end the pacing of my ego within my vessels that I may not again go against the will of  the One who willingly died for me! And, even so, may His word provide deeper longing in my heart each day that I may not depend on my own iniquitous heart and go forth with the passion for His commission, and be a servant to the earnest, the weak and the insurgent. May our merciful Father grant this prayer, in the beauteously glorious and precious name of His Son whose name is above all names, Jesus.

Wounded, longing and redeemed,

Blessy Bandola

…a child of the King of kings!