O Help My Unbelief

O Help My Unbelief will probably be the closest, personal cover song I will ever do.  We’ll see.  There are a couple of musical arrangements floating around the internet but none is more soulful, more revealing, and more imprinting than Justin Smith’s version, in my opinion.  His crew over at Indelible Grace have done more to raise the standards of theologically-astute Christian music lovers than anyone else I know.  Another old hymn set to contemporary style music, IG is not only about the high calling of congregational worship but encourages the believer to revisit the lost impact of a well-crafted hymn through a more appealing modern twist.

This is the second of two studio vocals my sweet friend, Jenn, recorded.

I have not encountered a more personal testimonial of sovereign, agape love than this hymn.  And I have been brought to tears more than once by the impassioned call to humble worship before a very powerful Savior through the arranged music.  If my musical tastes had a heart, this would be the steady, rhythmic beat of it.

Lyrics::Isaac Watts

Music::Justin Smith

Drums::Electric Guitar::Bass::Ben Mueller

Acoustic Guitars::Piano::Rhodes::Wurlitzer::Simon Lenaerts::Recorded at Silensstudio in Belgium.

Vocal Recording at Hartt Recording Studio::Jennifer Nulsen

Producer::Mixed::Mastered::Simon Lenaerts::Silensstudio

[Personal Note::The collaboration efforts of consummate professional and kind friend, Simon Lenaerts, on my behalf with, so far, the most significant song of my life is profoundly humbling and eternally appreciated.]

Lyrics::

1. How sad our state by nature is! Our sin, how deep it stains! And Satan binds our captive minds. Fast in his slavish chains.

But Hark! a voice of sov’reign grace, Sounds from the sacred word: “O, ye despairing sinners come, And trust upon the Lord.”

2. My soul obeys th’ almighty call, And runs to this relief. I would believe thy promise, Lord; O help my unbelief! Foul, to the fountain of thy blood, Incarnate God, I fly; Here let me wash my spotted soul, From crimes of deepest dye.

3. Stretch out Thine arm, victorious King, My reigning sins subdue; Drive the old dragon from his seat, With all his hellish crew. A guilty, weak, and helpless worm, On thy kind arms I fall; Be thou my strength and righteousness, My Savior, and my all.

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