For a Holy Friday...
by Michiaki Chihara sscc
Here are some pictures I took recently in Tsukuba
where I am now installed as the parish priest with Mike Narita.
As there was a renovation of the ceiling of the chapel and the lighting system in Tsukuba Church, I had a chance to go up to the
very top of the cross there.
I touched the cross with awe and prayers.
I could never imagine how Jesus suffered deeply.
Hope you have a good Holy Week.
Your brother,
Michiaki sscc
As there was a renovation of the ceiling of the chapel and the lighting system in Tsukuba Church, I had a chance to go up to the
very top of the cross there.
I touched the cross with awe and prayers.
I could never imagine how Jesus suffered deeply.
Hope you have a good Holy Week.
Your brother,
Michiaki sscc
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Thank you for posting this pictures. The words to the hymn "When I Survey The Wondrous Cross" by Isaac Watts come to mind.
ReplyDeleteWhen I survey the wondrous cross
On which the Prince of glory died,
My richest gain I count but loss,
And pour contempt on all my pride.
Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast,
Save in the death of Christ my God!
All the vain things that charm me most,
I sacrifice them to His blood.
See from His head, His hands, His feet,
Sorrow and love flow mingled down!
Did e’er such love and sorrow meet,
Or thorns compose so rich a crown?
His dying crimson, like a robe,
Spreads o’er His body on the tree;
Then I am dead to all the globe,
And all the globe is dead to me.
Were the whole realm of nature mine,
That were a present far too small;
Love so amazing, so divine,
Demands my soul, my life, my all.
Thank you for posting these photos. The words of the hymn "When I Survey The Wondrous Cross" by Isaac Watts comes to mind:
ReplyDelete“When I survey the wondrous cross
On which the Prince of glory died,
My richest gain I count but loss,
And pour contempt on all my pride.
Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast,
Save in the death of Christ my God!
All the vain things that charm me most,
I sacrifice them to His blood.
See from His head, His hands, His feet,
Sorrow and love flow mingled down!
Did e’er such love and sorrow meet,
Or thorns compose so rich a crown?
His dying crimson, like a robe,
Spreads o’er His body on the tree;
Then I am dead to all the globe,
And all the globe is dead to me.
Were the whole realm of nature mine,
That were a present far too small;
Love so amazing, so divine,
Demands my soul, my life, my all.”