The Love of God

     They slept on the concrete floor.  Only a thin quilt separated their bodies from the cool, hard surface.  No pillows.  No covers.  No air-mattresses.  Just a quilt. 
     We, on the other hand, had air mattresses, bug tents, pillows, sheets, and small personal-sized fans blowing on us.
     Each morning we awoke to singing.  They were in the room next to us.  Their rich, joyful voices united to greet the dawn with a song of praise.  Every morning it was the same song.  Celebrating the love of God for his precious people.  And precious they are.
     I've never known anyone who had so little in the way of personal wealth yet so much joy and faith in God.  They know what it's like to really depend on God.  They know what real hunger is.  They know life in a way I never will.  They know they can't depend on a job, on self-sufficiency.  They know they can only depend on God. 
     So they sing.  And they pray.  Oh, do they pray!  Passionately they call out to God.  Someone said on my  most recent trip, "Haitians call out to God.  Americans talk to God."  Sadly, I would have to say that most often we just give him our list of wants, not even caring that He is aware of our every need.  They prayed for me last year.  When I couldn't go to them, they prayed and sang over me.  I have the video.  It's one of the most beautiful gifts I have ever received.
     For two years I have carried that song in my heart.  It brings dear memories of two "older" men (I was a teenager, so they seemed ancient) singing it at church.  But hearing the Haitian voices sing it, I fell in love with it.  Here are the words:

1. The love of God is greater far
   Than tongue or pen can ever tell;
   It goes beyond the highest star,
   And reaches to the lowest hell;
   The guilty pair, bowed down with care,
   God gave His Son to win;
   His erring child He reconciled,
   And pardoned from his sin.
   • Refrain:
     Oh, love of God, how rich and pure!
     How measureless and strong!
     It shall forevermore endure—
     The saints’ and angels’ song.
2. When hoary time shall pass away,
   And earthly thrones and kingdoms fall,
   When men who here refuse to pray,
   On rocks and hills and mountains call,
   God’s love so sure, shall still endure,
   All measureless and strong;
   Redeeming grace to Adam’s race—
   The saints’ and angels’ song.
3. Could we with ink the ocean fill,
   And were the skies of parchment made,
   Were every stalk on earth a quill,
   And every man a scribe by trade;
   To write the love of God above
   Would drain the ocean dry;
   Nor could the scroll contain the whole,
   Though stretched from sky to sky.

Frederick Lehman

1917