Come Ye Disconsolate

Come, ye disconsolate, where’er ye languish;
Come to the mercy seat, fervently kneel;
Here bring your wounded hearts, here tell your anguish;
Earth has no sorrow that heaven cannot heal.

Joy of the desolate, light of the straying,
Hope of the penitent, fadeless and pure,
Here speaks the Comforter, tenderly saying,
“Earth has no sorrow that heaven cannot cure.”

Here see the bread of life; see waters flowing
Forth from the throne of God, pure from above;
Come to the feast of love; come, ever knowing
Earth has no sorrow but heaven can remove.

This hymn was written by Thomas Moore (1779-1852), the third verse later altered to the current version by another hymn writer, Thomas Hastings (1784-1872).

From a site dedicated to hymns, Wordwise Hymns:

This is a great hymn of comfort, encouragement for the disconsolate in the face of sorrow and loss….According to the promises of the Scriptures, the Lord is ready to help those who come to Him in faith. And who are the ones who need grace, and mercy, and comfort? Two particular examples are given in the hymn. Those who are sorrowing, who have “wounded hearts” (CH-1); those who have sinned and strayed from the path, and come in a spirit of repentance (CH-2).

For each believer the hymn reassures us, “Earth has no sorrow that heaven cannot heal.” Through Christ, our great High Priest at the Father’s right hand, there is “mercy and…grace to help in time of need,” and we are invited to “come boldly” before the throne and seek it (Heb. 4:14-16). “Boldly.” That does not mean irreverently, or carelessly, but honestly and openly, with cheerful confidence that we’re coming to One who understands and has compassion on us.

For more, including the story behind another song penned by Moore, Believe Me If All Those Endearing Young Charms, go here.

 

 

 

Reading about the Reformation

 

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On this 500th anniversary year of the Protestant Reformation I want to finish reading Alister McGrath’s book Reformation Thought: An Introduction. When I started reading, a few months ago, I immediately realized that what I thought I knew about that time and the purposes and processes of the Reformation was paltry at best. I anticipate enjoying the book, and coming away with a better understanding because I’ve read several books by McGrath. He is a good writer. I trust him to be knowledgeable about anything he commits to writing, and as accurate, easy to understand, and truthful as possible.
From the chapter titled Introduction:

…..The sad state of the church in the early sixteenth century was simply a symptom of a more radical disease—a deviation from the distinctive ideas of the Christian faith, a loss of intellectual identity, a failure to grasp what Christianity really was. Christianity could not be reformed without an understanding of what Christianity was actually meant to be…. [T]he obvious decline of the late Renaissance church was the latest stage in a gradual process which had been going on since about the theological renaissance of the twelfth century—the corruption of Christian doctrine and ethics.

Confronting corruption of Christian doctrine and ethics is an ongoing, and always contemporary battle. Reformation (in the perfect tense) is central to Christianity, both on a personal and corporate level.

 

The Continued Appeal of Jane Austen

 

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Dwight Longenecker writes about why he thinks Jane Austen continues to appeal to readers today.

Beneath Austen’s humor is humility. She satirizes the vain, silly, pompous, proud, and prejudiced, but she does so with good nature and an underlying kindness. She is often cutting, but never cruel. She laughs, but she doesn’t mock. She understands that humor and humility are rooted in humus—the earth. She knows that we are but dust and to dust we shall return—and that knowledge makes her kind.

Like all great writers, she has an innate understanding of human psychology, and she teaches that the more one knows, the more one can forgive.

….  If humility and humor are linked with humus, then it follows that the humble are down to earth. They are full of common sense. Her heroines (like Elinor Dashwood or Anne Elliot) either see through the vanity, foolishness, and pride of their family and friends, or (like Emma Woodhouse, Marianne Dashwood, and Elizabeth Bennet) they grow up through their trials, see through the vanity, and learn the virtue of humility.

The humility Austen displays is not the false obsequiousness of the social climber or the false piety of the self-consciously religious. Instead true humility is linked with a clear vision of reality. Austen’s heroes are the men and women who see and accept themselves and others with clarity and charity. They accept that good manners and good morals dictate the way to behave towards others, and that such manners and morals must always be genuine and from the heart—not simply a display of outward artifice or the result of social accomplishment.

The continued appeal of Austen’s work is therefore not simply in the comic moments and the enjoyable sighs of a love story well told. Instead the audience is intrigued and inspired by the discovery of true simplicity and humility hidden within the complex, deceitful web of human pride and prejudice.

 

The Next Best Thing

 

 

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From an 2009 blog post I ran across today:

In the days of cell phones, email, and text messages, letter writing can seem hopelessly outdated. But it’s an art worth bringing back, and not because of some misplaced sense of nostalgia either. The writing and reception of letters will always offer an experience that modern technology cannot touch. Twitter is effective for broadcasting what you’re eating for lunch, and email is fantastic for quick exchanges on the most pertinent pieces of information. But when it comes to sharing one’s true thoughts, sincere sympathies, ardent love, and deepest gratitude, words traveling along an invisible superhighway will never suffice. Why?

Because sending a letter is the next best thing to showing up personally at someone’s door. Ink from your pen touches the stationary, your fingers touch the paper, your saliva seals the envelope. Something tangible from your world travels through machines and hands, and deposits itself in another’s mailbox. Your letter is then carried inside as an invited guest. The paper that was sitting on your desk, now sits on another’s. The recipient handles the paper that you handled. Letters create a connection that modern, impersonal forms of communication will never approach.

Today I received a letter from my Dad.  He is 96 years old now and arthritis makes it difficult for him to write, so he types short (and very welcome) letters.  In this one Dad commented on the heat in Arizona, over 100 degrees, and said he remembers working in the fields at home in that temperature…

One day we were in a field next to a bank with a constantly flowing cold spring.  We made many excursions to it.

Even our horses had their hats, straw hats with cutouts for the ears.

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We are Sane and We are One

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Creation Day

Between the perfect marriage day
And that fierce future proud, and furled,
I only stole six days—six days
Enough for God to make the world.

For us is a creation made
New moon by night, new sun by day,
That ancient elm that holds the heavens
Sprang to its stature yesterday—

Dearest and first of all things free,
Alone as bride and queen and friend,
Brute facts may come and bitter truths,
But here all doubts shall have an end.

Never again with cloudy talk
Shall life be tricked or faith undone,
The world is many and is made,
But we are sane and we are one.

I’ve been reading Chesterton again.  This poem was written shortly after his marriage to Frances Blog in 1901.

Here is Love

Here is love, vast as the ocean,
Loving-kindness as the flood,
When the Prince of Life, our Ransom,
Shed for us His precious blood.
Who His love will not remember?
Who can cease to sing His praise?
He can never be forgotten,
Throughout heav’n’s eternal days.

On the mount of crucifixion,
Fountains opened deep and wide;
Through the floodgates of God’s mercy
Flowed a vast and gracious tide.
Grace and love, like mighty rivers,
Poured incessant from above,
And heav’n’s peace and perfect justice
Kissed a guilty world in love.