Come Ye Disconsolate

I remember it as if it were yesterday. Fifteen minutes of uninterrupted quiet time seemed like an eternity. Yet at Fort Hill Camp, we were required to find a place of solitude and listen to hymns piped over the intercom while we read our Bibles or prayed or played in the dirt. The latter seemed more interesting to me.
There was one song (and only one song) that I remember that played over that loudspeaker system. There were others, but for some reason I remember this one. We don't sing it much anymore although the words are comforting and the tune is beautiful.
Come, ye disconsolate, where'er ye languish;
Come, at the mercy seat, fervently kneel;
Here bring your wounded hearts, here tell your anguish;
Earth has no sorrow that heav'n cannot heal.

Joy of the desolate, light of the straying,
Hope of the penitent, fadeless and pure;
Here speaks the Comforter, tenderly saying,
"Earth has no sorrow that heav'n cannot cure."

Here see the bread of life, see waters flowing
Forth from the throne of God, pure from above;
Come to the feast of love; come, ever knowing
Earth has no sorrow but heav'n can remove.

For some reason those words have stuck in my heart. We have a place of consolation, a place where God meets us and loves us and forgives us. And there is no sorrow that He cannot heal. Words of hope. Words of comfort. Ah, those old hymns. Have a great day. JW