Come, ye thankful people, come

545 St. George's Windsor. 7. 7. 7. 7. D.

1 Come, ye thankful people, come,
   raise the song of harvest home;
   all is safely gathered in,
   ere the winter storms begin.
   God our Maker doth provide
   for our wants to be supplied;
   come to God's own temple, come,
   raise the song of harvest home.

2 All the world is God's own field,
   fruit as praise to God we yield;
   wheat and tares together sown
   are to joy or sorrow grown;
   first the blade and then the ear,
   then the full corn shall appear;
   Lord of harvest, grant that we
   wholesome grain and pure may be.

3 For the Lord our God shall come,
   and shall take the harvest home;
   from the field shall in that day
   all offenses purge away,
   giving angels charge at last
   in the fire the tares to cast;
   but the fruitful ears to store
   in the garner evermore.

4 Even so, Lord, quickly come,
   bring thy final harvest home;
   gather thou thy people in,
   free from sorrow, free from sin,
   there, forever purified,
   in thy presence to abide;
   come, with all thine angels, come,
   raise the glorious harvest home.
                         Henry Alford
                         The Methodist Hymnal 1939 edition

<idle musing>
Alford published a Greek New Testament, for which is he better known than for his hymns. The biography linked to above says this, rather accurately, about Alford as a hymnwriter:

As a hymn-writer he added little to his literary reputation. The rhythm of his hymns is musical, but the poetry is neither striking, nor the thought original. They are evangelical in their teaching, but somewhat cold and conventional. They vary greatly in merit.

</idle musing>

We plow the fields and scatter

544 St. Anselm. 7. 6. 7. 6. D.

1 We plow the fields and scatter
   The good seed on the land,
   But it is fed and watered
   By God's almighty hand.
   He sends the snow in winter,
   The warmth to swell the grain,
   The breezes and the sunshine,
   And soft, refreshing rain.

2 He only is the Maker
   Of all things near and far;
   He paints the wayside flower,
   He lights the evening star.
   The winds and waves obey Him,
   By Him the birds are fed;
   Much more, to us His children,
   He gives our daily bread.

3 We thank Thee then, O Father,
   For all things bright and good:
   The seed-time and the harvest,
   Our life, our health our food.
   No gifts have we to offer
   For all Thy love imparts,
   But that which Thou desirest,
   Our humble, thankful hearts.
                         Matthias Claudius
                         Tr. by Jane M. Campbell
                         The Methodist Hymnal 1939 edition

<idle musing>
Some add a refrain:

All good gifts around us
Are sent from heaven above;
Then thank the Lord, O thank the Lord
For all His love.

</idle musing>

Distracting ourselves to death

Thomas Merton once said that the biggest spiritual problem of our time is efficiency, work, pragmatism; by the time we keep the plant running there is little time and energy for anything else. Neil Postman suggests that, as a culture, we are amusing ourselves to death, that is, distracting ourselves into a bland, witless superficiality.” Henri Nouwen has written eloquently on how our greed for experience and the restlessness, hostility, and fantasy it generates, block solitude, hospitality, and prayer in our lives. They are right. What each of these authors, and countless others, are saying is that we, for every kind of reason, good and bad, are distracting ourselves into spiritual oblivion. It is not that we have anything against God, depth, and spirit, we would like these, it is just that we are habitually too preoccupied to have any of these show up on our radar screens. We are more busy than bad, more distracted than nonspiritual, and more interested in the movie theater, the sports stadium, and the shopping mall and the fantasy life they produce in us than we are in church. Pathological busyness, distraction, and restlessness are major blocks today within our spiritual lives.—The Holy Longing, 32–33

<idle musing>
"We are more busy than bad, more distracted than nonspiritual, and more interested in the movie theater, the sports stadium, and the shopping mall and the fantasy life they produce in us than we are in church. Pathological busyness, distraction, and restlessness are major blocks today within our spiritual lives."

That sums up our lives only too well, doesn't it? And, if he had written it today, he would have added our phones…
</idle musing>

O Lord of heaven and earth and sea

541 Oldbridge. 8. 8. 8. 4.

1 O Lord of heaven and earth and sea,
   to thee all praise and glory be.
   How shall we show our love to thee
   who givest all?

2 The golden sunshine, vernal air,
   sweet flowers and fruit, thy love declare;
   when harvests ripen, thou art there,
   who givest all.

3 For peaceful homes, and healthful days,
   for all the blessings earth displays,
   we owe thee thankfulness and praise,
   who givest all.

4 For souls redeemed, for sins forgiven,
   for means of grace and hopes of heaven,
   Father, what can to thee be given,
   who givest all?

5 We lose what on ourselves we spend,
   we have as treasure without end
   whatever, Lord, to thee we lend,
   who givest all.

6 To thee, from whom we all derive
   our life, our gifts, our power to give:
   O may we ever with thee live,
   who givest all.
                         Christopher Wordsworth
                         The Methodist Hymnal 1939 edition

<idle musing>
No, not that Wordworth! He's this one's uncle! Some hymnals insert two verses:

4 Thou didst not spare thine only Son,
   but gav'st him for a world undone,
   and freely with that blessèd One
   thou givest all.

5 Thou giv'st the Holy Spirit's dower,
   Spirit of life and love and power,
   and dost his sevenfold graces shower
   upon us all.

And others insert a chorus:

We'll sing thy praise in songs of holy joy!
Thy work, O Lord, shall all our pow'rs employ!
Souls redeemed and sins forgiv'n,
For means of grace and hopes of heav'n,
Thou didst not spare thine only Son,
But freely gave that blessed One
To save us all.

</idle musing>

It's a powerful fire!

Spirituality is about properly handling the fires, those powerful energies, that flow through us. We struggle because we are naive and underestimate both the origins and the power of this fire. We think that energy is ours, and it is not. We think we can, all on our own, control it, and we cannot. There is a madness in us that comes from the god and unless we respect and relate it precisely to its divine source we will forever be either too restless or too depressed to ever fully enjoy life or we will be some mini-version of David Koresh, convinced that we are God.—The Holy Longing, 31

<idle musing>
That reference dates the book a bit, doesn't it? I linked to the Wiki version of who David Koresh was for those who don't recall. That aside, he's making a very valid point here. Augustine said the same thing 1600 years before, too. We were created for a relationship with our maker, and nothing else will suffice.
</idle musing>

Great God, we sing that mighty hand

539 Federal Street. L. M.

1 Great God, we sing that mighty hand,
   By which supported still we stand:
   The opening year thy mercy shews.
   Let mercy crown it till it close.

2 By day, by night, at home, abroad,
   Still we are guarded by our God;
   By thine incessant bounty fed,
   By thine unerring counsel led.

3 With grateful hearts the past we own;
   The future, all to us unknown,
   We to thy guardian care commit,
   And peaceful leave before thy feet.

4 In scenes exalted or depress'd,
   Be thou our joy, and thou our rest;
   Thy goodness all our hopes shall raise,
   Adored thro' all our changing days.
                         Philip Doddridge
                         The Methodist Hymnal 1939 edition

<idle musing>
A fairly popular hymn, occurring in over 480 hymnals. Hymnary.org has a fifth verse:

5 When death shall interrupt these songs,
   And seal in silence mortal tongues,
   Our helper God, in whom we trust,
   In better words our souls shall boast.

</idle musing>

Don't interrupt my depression!

In Western culture, the joyous shouting of children often irritates us because it interferes with our depression. That is why we have invented a term, hyperactivity, so that we can, in good conscience, sedate the spontaneous joy in many of our children.—The Holy Longing, 27

<idle musing>
Ouch! I think he hit on something there. Our society on the whole strongly dislikes children. Perhaps because they remind us that there is more to life than acting busy and trying to "get ahead" or make more money. Or maybe, as he says, they interrupt our depression.

Either way, we need to celebrate children!
</idle musing>

Sing to the great Jehovah’s praise!

538 Evangelist. C. M.

1. Sing to the great Jehovah’s praise!
   All praise to Him belongs:
   Who kindly lengthens out our days
   Demands our choicest songs.

2. His providence hath brought us through
   Another various year:
   We all with vows and anthems new
   Before our God appear.

3. Father, Thy mercies past we own;
   Thy still continued care;
   To Thee presenting, through Thy Son,
   Whate’er we have or own.

4. Our lips and lives shall gladly show
   The wonders of Thy love,
   While on in Jesu’s steps we go
   To see Thy face above.
                         Charles Wesley
                         The Methodist Hymnal 1939 edition

<idle musing>
Again, as is usual for Wesley's hymns, there are more verses. Cyberhymnal has them:

5. Our residue of days or hours
   Thine, wholly Thine, shall be;
   And all our consecrated powers
   A sacrifice to be:

6. Till Jesus in the clouds appear
   To saints on earth forgiven,
   And bring the grand Sabbatic year,
   The jubilee of Heaven.

</idle musing>

A healthy soul

A healthy soul, therefore, must do two things for us. First, it must put some fire in our veins, keep us energized, vibrant, living with zest, and full of hope as we sense that life is, ultimately, beautiful and worth living. Whenever this breaks down in us, something is wrong with our souls. When cynicism, despair, bitterness, or depression paralyze our energy, part of the soul is hurting. Second, a healthy soul has to keep us fixed together. It has to continually give us a sense of who we are, where we came from, where we are going, and what sense there is in all of this. When we stand looking at ourselves, confusedly, in a mirror and ask ourselves what sense, if any, there is to our lives, it is this other part of the soul, our principle of integration, that is limping.—The Holy Longing, 14

Mumble those words! (Tozer for Tuesday)

We imagine that if we say certain words, we will have power to bring good. If we say certain other words, they have power to fend off the devil, and there is safety in mumbling those words. If we fail to mumble the words, we are in for it, and if we remember to mumble the words, we are all right. That is just paganism under another form. It’s just a religious veneer at best.—A.W. Tozer, Reclaiming Christianity, 110–11

<idle musing>
Yep! And that's the big beef I have w/the "name it and claim it. Stomp on it and frame it" crowd. (Or as I heard someone else call it, "Gab it and grab it!")

Scripture is not a magic sword to be wielded as we see fit. That's not why it was given. The Holy Spirit is our shield, not some magic recitation of words. Our submission to the Holy Spirit, as Peter says, is what drives the evil one away. And by submission, I mean obedience to the promptings of the Spirit, not submission to some patriarchal system set up by power-hungry (usually) men!
</idle musing>

Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky (Tennyson)

537 Wild Bells L. M. D.

1 Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
   The flying cloud, the frosty light;
   The year is dying in the night;
   Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.
   Ring out the old, ring in the new,
   Ring, happy bells, across the snow:
   The year is going, let him go;
   Ring out the false, ring in the true.

2 Ring out a slowly dying cause,
   And ancient forms of party strife;
   Ring in the nobler modes of life,
   With sweeter manners, purer laws.
   Ring out false pride in place and blood,
   The civic slander and the spite;
   Ring in the love of truth and right,
   Ring in the common love of good.

3 Ring out old shapes of foul disease;
   Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;
   Ring out the thousand wars of old,
   Ring in the thousand years of peace.
   Ring in the valiant man and free,
   The larger heart, the kindlier hand;
   Ring out the darkness of the land,
   Ring in the Christ that is to be.
                         Alfred Tennyson
                         The Methodist Hymnal 1939 edition

<idle musing>
Yes, that Tennyson. I didn't think he had written any hymns, and it turns out that he didn't. According to hymnary.org, "Although Lord Tennyson has not written any hymns, extracts from his poems are sometimes used as such" (John Julian, Dictionary of Hymnology, Appendix, Part II, 1907). So now you know.
</idle musing>

Every choice is a renunciation

Medieval philosophy had a dictum that said: Every choice is a renunciation. Indeed. Every choice is a thousand renunciations. To choose one thing is to turn one’s back on many others. To marry one person is to not marry all the others, to have a baby means to give up certain other things; and to pray may mean to miss watching television or visiting with friends. This makes choosing hard. No wonder we struggle so much with commitment. It is not that we do not want certain things, it is just that we know that if we choose them we close off so many other things. It is not easy to be a saint, to will the one thing, to have the discipline of a Mother Teresa. The danger is that we end up more like Janis Joplin; good-hearted, highly energized, driven to try to drink in all of life, but in danger of falling apart and dying from lack of rest.—The Holy Longing, 9

Father, let me dedicate all this year to thee

535 Dedication. 7. 5. 7. 5. D.

1 Father, let me dedicate
   All this year to you,
   In whate'er my earthly state,
   In whate'er I do.
   Not from sorrow, pain, or care
   Freedom dare I claim;
   This alone shall be my prayer:
   Glorify your name.

2 Can a child presume to choose
   Where or how to live?
   Can a father's love refuse
   All the best to give?
   More you give me ev'ry day
   Than the best can claim;
   Help me trust you that I may
   Glorify your name.

3 If in mercy you prolong
   Joys that now are mine,
   If on life serene and fair
   Brighter rays may shine,
   Let my glad heart, while it sings,
   You in all proclaim
   And, whate'er the future brings,
   Glorify your name.

4 If you have for me a cross
   And its shadow come,
   Turning all my gain to loss,
   Shrouding heart and home,
   Let me think how your dear Son
   To his glory came
   And in deepest woe pray on:
   "Glorify your name."
                         Lawrence Tuttiett
                         The Methodist Hymnal 1939 edition