You know, it is the same old story. Sung by folks who fit. Who don't fit.

Sung with different beats and instruments. Sung by people of color, kids

from housing projects, folks in wheelchairs, of all ages and abilities and

gender. People in power-those who are powerless. But, all who gather at the

foot of an old rugged cross shout the words to the next Hymn "This is my

story, this is my song. Praising my Savior all the day long."

The amazing thing is that many of the most reassuring songs come from some

extremely unreassuring circumstances.  The writer of this

song, Fanny J. Crosby,  wrote in the 1800's. She was single, she was a

woman, she was blinded at birth, she started her song writing when she was

heading into the last half of her life-at 45. In the 1800's with the life

expectancy what it was-Fanny was heading in her to her golden years. Yet,

this blind seemingly powerless woman wrote nearly 9,000 hymns that are woven

into every hymn book in every church in most countries and is sung by

charismatic and high church liturgies. And I'll just bet-- will be for ages.

No denomination, no class of people, no political group, no one gets

to lay claim to the story as only theirs. It defies systems and dogmas and

offers hope to all in these words:

"Blessed assurance Jesus is mine

Oh what a foretaste of glory divine

Heir of salvation, purchase of God

Born of the spirit, washed in Christ's blood.

This is my story, This is my song, ..."

 Blessed Assurance

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