Hope springs eternal on our heads; for those who know the love of Christ it flows like honey. Hope! Though battered, bruised, and nearly blinded, hope still! The hope that comes from God presses us to sing when though a weary whisper is all our voices own. Our very selves are instruments of worship and made to play for Him, and though we may be broken there is still a string or two that can be played. Play on! Worship still, even when our strength is at its ebb. Lift up that weary hand to praise the only One whose name is Holy, for it is such a hope that stubbornly holds on.
Down like great drops of rain hope falls and soaks the soul when we turn our eyes toward Him . . . play on, even when it hurts, play on!
Artwork: Hope (detail) by Watts