Saturday, August 7, 2010
I think I don't play the piano enough. I love doing it for my own benefit--musical, psychological, and when I'm playing hymns, spiritual--but I also love the thought that our little one can hear it, too.
This is the hymn I was fixed on a few moments ago. It's so simple, and goes like a conversation between a seeker and a wise and seasoned pilgrim.
Art thou weary, art thou languid,
Art thou sore distress'd?
"Come to me," saith One, "and coming,
Be at rest."
Hath he marks to lead me to him,
If he be my Guide?
"In his feet and hands are wound-prints,
And his side."
"Is there diadem, as Monarch,
That his brow adorns?
"Yea, a crown, in very surety,
But of thorns."
If I find him, if I follow,
What is guerdon here?
"Many a sorrow, many a labor,
Many a tear."
If I still hold closely to him,
What hath he at last?
"Sorrow vanquished, labor ended,
Jordan passed."
If I ask him to receive me,
Will he say me nay?
"Not till earth and not till heaven
Pass away."
Finding, following, keeping, struggling,
Is he sure to bless?
"Saints, apostles, prophets, martyrs,
Answer, 'Yes.'"
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