Tell me the story most precious, Sweetest that ever was heard.
Tell how the angels, in chorus, Sang as they welcomed His birth,
"Glory to God in the highest! Peace and good tidings to earth"
Feasting alone in the desert, Tell of the days that are past,
How for our sins He was tempted, Yet was triumphant at last.
Tell of the years of His labor, Tell of the sorrow He bore,
He was despised and afflicted, Homeless, rejected and poor.
Tell of the cross where they nailed, Him, Writhing in anguish and pain;
Tell of the grave where they laid Him, Tell how He liveth again.
Love in that story so tender, Clearer than ever I see;
Stay, let me weep while you whisper,
Love paid the ransom for me.
- Fanny J. Crosby
I LOVE teaching my Sunday School class.
I love their little spongy minds.
I love the amazement that I feel when they learn their memory verses
.... so quickly.
I love the expressions of their faces as I teach the true stories of
the whale, the ark, or Red Sea.
I love the remorse I saw when I explained the horrible way Jesus died
... for us.
I love that they don't care I sing off key.
I love that they sing "I love Jesus better then Ice Cream"
at the top of their lungs.
I love that a homemade bean bag gets them excited.
I love my Lord. Happy Sunday,