Somewhere during the PIT Stop training, we mentioned the incredible precedents in missions created by the Moravians, led by von Zinzendorf (cool name, huh?).

Precedents like:

1. 1 adult in 10 sent into cross-cultural missions

2. Upon leaving, the Moravian missionaries planned to never return in person to the enclave of senders; they packed their belongings in their own coffins in good stewardship of resources

3. not just one 24/7/365 prayer meetings for missions and their missionaries, but TWO (because of propriety, men and women had their separate lists) WHICH WENT ON FOR 100 YEARS!

This morning I found myself singing the one hymn written by him that is found in many hymn books but rarely sung.

I commend the biography of Zinzendorf and the story of the early Moravians to you.

Here’s the hymn from cyberhymnal.org —

In 1739, when the Count was mak­ing a sea voy­age from Saint Thom­as, West In­dies, he wrote this re­mark­a­ble hymn. Al­though as a boy he was ed­u­cat­ed in pi­e­tis­tic teach­ings, he is said to have been con­vert­ed by see­ing the fa­mous paint­ing, “Ecce Homo,” which hangs in the Düss­el­dorf Gal­le­ry and pic­tures the bowed head of Christ, crowned with thorns. Per­haps he still cher­ished in his mem­o­ry that vi­sion of the Man of Sor­rows, when in this hymn he wrote of the “ho­ly, meek, un­spot­ted Lamb,” “Who died for me, e’en me t’ atone.”Price, p. 57

Jesus, Thy blood and righteousness My beauty are, my glorious dress; ’Midst flaming worlds, in these arrayed, With joy shall I lift up my head.

Bold shall I stand in Thy great day; For who aught to my charge shall lay? Fully absolved through these I am From sin and fear, from guilt and shame.

The holy, meek, unspotted Lamb, Who from the Father’s bosom came, Who died for me, e’en me to atone, Now for my Lord and God I own.

Lord, I believe Thy precious blood, Which, at the mercy seat of God, Forever doth for sinners plead, For me, e’en for my soul, was shed.

Lord, I believe were sinners more Than sands upon the ocean shore, Thou hast for all a ransom paid, For all a full atonement made.

When from the dust of death I rise To claim my mansion in the skies, Ev’n then this shall be all my plea, Jesus hath lived, hath died, for me.

This spotless robe the same appears, When ruined nature sinks in years; No age can change its glorious hue, The robe of Christ is ever new.

Jesus, the endless praise to Thee, Whose boundless mercy hath for me— For me a full atonement made, An everlasting ransom paid.

O let the dead now hear Thy voice; Now bid Thy banished ones rejoice; Their beauty this, their glorious dress, Jesus, Thy blood and righteousness.