In the fury of the moment I can see the Master’s hand

In every leaf that trembles, and in every grain of sand

             – Bob Dylan

Okay, I officially declare this Bob Dylan Week at the Catch. And I’m good with that. Especially when there is so much to be gained and so much beauty expressed when he was rescued from despair by the Lord and lived to write and sing about it.

This song is all about that, and I’m just going to let you absorb it. I’m not going to write too much about it except to say it is like an Anthem to the soul of someone who has been pulled out of deep despair. It tells us that Dylan was at the bottom when he took the Lord’s hand that was offered to him. And good thing he did, or we might not have these songs to reflect on, or this story of redemption to marvel in. I think of this as Pilgrim’s Progress in a song.

Click on the title to hear the song. If your browser only shows you the lyrics, scroll on down to the YouTube videos. The first one should be a close up of Dylan’s face, and you’ll know you have the right one if he’s smiling — a rarity. This is the best video of the song because it has the lyrics along with the music.

Every Grain of Sand

by Bob Dylan

In the time of my confession, in the hour of my deepest need

When the pool of tears beneath my feet flood every newborn seed

There’s a dying voice within me reaching out somewhere

Toiling in the danger and in the morals of despair

Don’t have the inclination to look back on any mistake

Like Cain, I now behold this chain of events that I must break

In the fury of the moment I can see the Master’s hand

In every leaf that trembles, and in every grain of sand

Oh, the flowers of indulgence and the weeds of yesteryear

Like criminals, they have choked the breath of conscience and good cheer

The sun beat down upon the steps of time to light the way

To ease the pain of idleness and the memory of decay

I gaze into the doorway of temptation’s angry flame

And every time I pass that way, I always hear my name

Then onward in my journey, I come to understand

That every hair is numbered like every grain of sand

I have gone from rags to riches in the sorrow of the night

In the violence of a summer’s dream, in the chill of a wintry light

In the bitter dance of loneliness, fading into space

In the broken mirror of innocence on each forgotten face

I hear the ancient footsteps like the motion of the sea

Sometimes I turn, there’s someone there, other times it’s only me

I am hanging in the balance of a perfect finished plan

Like every sparrow falling, like every grain of sand

How precious to me are your thoughts, O God!

How vast is the sum of them!

Were I to count them,

they would outnumber the grains of sand—

when I awake, I am still with you.

– Psalm 139:17-19