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

Another Year is Dawning

534 Bremen. 7. 6. 7. 6.

1 Another year is dawning,
   Dear Master, let it be,
   In working or in waiting,
   Another year with Thee.

2 Another year of mercies,
   Of faithfulness and grace;
   Another year of gladness,
   The shining of Thy face.

3 Another year of progress,
   Another year of praise,
   Another year of proving
   Thy presence all the days.

4 Another year of service,
   Of witness for Thy love;
   Another year of training
   For holier work above.

5 Another year is dawning,
   Dear Master, let it be,
   On earth, or else in heaven,
   Another year for Thee!
                         Frances R. Havergal
                         The Methodist Hymnal 1939 edition

O God our help in ages past

533 St. Anne. C. M.

1 O God, our Help in ages past,
   Our Hope for years to come,
   Our shelter from the stormy blast,
   And our eternal Home!

2 Under the shadow of Thy throne
   Still may we dwell secure;
   Sufficient is Thine arm alone,
   And our defense is sure.

3 Before the hills in order stood,
   Or earth received her frame,
   From everlasting Thou art God,
   To endless years the same.

4 A thousand ages, in Thy sight,
   Are like an evening gone;
   Short as the watch that ends the night,
   Before the rising sun.

5 O God. our Help in ages past,
   Our Hope for years to come,
   Be Thou our Guide while life shall last,
   And our eternal Home.
                         Isaac Watts
                         The Methodist Hymnal 1939 edition

<idle musing>
A nice rousing Isaac Watts hymn! I didn't realize that there were so many different variations in this hymn. As usual, Cyberhymnal has the most:

4. Thy Word commands our flesh to dust,
   Return, ye sons of men:
   All nations rose from earth at first,
   And turn to earth again.

6. The busy tribes of flesh and blood,
   With all their lives and cares,
   Are carried downwards by the flood,
   And lost in following years.

7. Time, like an ever rolling stream,
   Bears all its sons away;
   They fly, forgotten, as a dream
   Dies at the opening day.

8. Like flowery fields the nations stand
   Pleased with the morning light;
   The flowers beneath the mower’s hand
   Lie withering ere ‘tis night.

</idle musing>

What is a saint?

A saint is someone who can, precisely, channel powerful eros in a creative, life-giving way. Soren Kierkegaard once defined a saint as someone who can will the one thing. Nobody disputes that Mother Teresa did just that, willed the one thing—God and the poor. She had a powerful energy, but it was a very disciplined one. Her fiery eros was poured out for God and the poor. That—total dedication of everything to God and poor—was her signature, her spirituality. It made her what she was.—The Holy Longing, 8 (emphasis original)

Ten thousand times ten thousand

531 Alford. 7. 6. 8. 6. D.

1 Ten thousand times ten thousand
   In sparkling raiment bright,
   The armies of the ransomed saints
   Throng up the steeps of light:
   'Tis finished, all is finished,
   Their fight with death and sin;
   Fling open wide the golden gates,
   And let the victors in!

2 O then what raptured greetings
   On Canaan's happy shore,
   What knitting severed friendships up
   Where partings are no more!
   Then eyes with joy shall sparkle,
   That brimmed with tears of late;
   Orphans no longer fatherless,
   Nor widows desolate.

3 What rush of alleluias
   Fills all the earth and sky!
   What ringing of a thousand harps
   Bespeaks the triumph nigh!
   O day, for which creation
   And all its tribes were made;
   O joy, for all its former woes
   A thousandfold repaid!
                         The Methodist Hymnal 1939 edition
                         Henry Alford

<idle musing>
Hymnary.org adds a verse:

4 Bring near Thy great salvation,
   Thou Lamb for sinners slain;
   Fill up the roll of Thine elect,
   Then take Thy power and reign;
   Appear, Desire of nations,
   Thine exiles long for home;
   Show in the heavens Thy promised sign;
   Thou Prince and Savior, come.

</idle musing>

It's not optional!

Spirituality is not something on the fringes, an option for those with a particular bent. None of us has a choice. Everyone has to have a spirituality and everyone does have one, either a life-giving one or a destructive one. No one has the luxury of choosing here because all of us are precisely fired into life with a certain madness that comes from the gods and we have to do something with that. We do not wake up in this world calm and serene, having the luxury of choosing to act or not act. We wake up crying, on fire with desire, with madness. What we do with that madness is our spirituality.—The Holy Longing, 6

Jerusalem the golden

529 Ewing. 7. 6. 7. 6. D.

1 Jerusalem the golden,
   With milk and honey blest!
   Beneath thy contemplation
   Sink heart and voice oppressed;
   I know not, O I know not
   What joys await us there;
   What radiancy of glory,
   What light beyond compare!

2 They stand, those halls of Zion,
   All jubilant with song,
   And bright with many an angel,
   And all the martyr throng;
   The Prince is ever in them,
   The daylight is serene;
   The pastures of the blessed
   Are decked in glorious sheen.

3 O sweet and blessed country,
   the home of God’s elect!
   O sweet and blessed country,
   that eager hearts expect!
   Jesus, in mercy bring us
   to that dear land of rest,
   Who art, with God the Father,
   and Spirit, ever blessed.
                         Bernard of Cluny (11th century)
                         Tr. by John M. Neale
                         The Methodist Hymnal 1939 edition

<idle musing>
This hymn, in various forms, appears in about 900 hymnals. Cyberhymnal lists a significant number of additional verses:

3. There is the throne of David,
   and there, from care released,
   The shout of them that triumph,
   the song of them that feast;
   And they, who with their Leader,
   have conquered in the fight,
   Forever and forever
   are clad in robes of white.

5. Brief life is here our portion,
   brief sorrow, short lived care;
   The life that knows no ending,
   the tearless life, is there.
   O happy retribution!
   Short toil, eternal rest;
   For mortals and for sinners,
   a mansion with the blest.

6. That we should look, poor wanderers,
   to have our home on high!
   That worms should seek for dwellings
   beyond the starry sky!
   And now we fight the battle,
   but then shall wear the crown
   Of full and everlasting,
   and passionless renown.

7. And how we watch and struggle,
   and now we live in hope,
   And Zion in her anguish
   with Babylon must cope;
   But he whom now we trust in
   shall then be seen and known,
   And they that know and see Him
   shall have Him for their own.

8. For thee, O dear, dear country,
   mine eyes their vigils keep;
   For very love, beholding,
   thy happy name, they weep:
   The mention of thy glory
   is unction to the breast,
   And medicine in sickness,
   and love, and life, and rest.

9. O one, O only mansion!
   O paradise of joy!
   Where tears are ever banished,
   and smiles have no alloy;
   The cross is all thy splendor,
   the Crucified thy praise,
   His laud and benediction
   thy ransomed people raise.

10. Jerusalem the glorious!
   Glory of the elect!
   O dear and future vision
   that eager hearts expect!
   Even now by faith I see thee,
   even here thy walls discern;
   To thee my thoughts are kindled,
   and strive, and pant, and yearn.

11. Jerusalem, the only,
   that look’st from heaven below,
   In thee is all my glory,
   in me is all my woe!
   And though my body may not,
   my spirit seeks thee fain,
   Till flesh and earth return me
   to earth and flesh again.

12. Jerusalem, exulting
   on that securest shore,
   I hope thee, wish thee,
   sing thee, and love thee evermore!
   I ask not for my merit:
   I seek not to deny
   My merit is destruction,
   a child of wrath am I.

13. But yet with faith I venture
   and hope upon the way,
   For those perennial guerdons
   I labor night and day.
   The best and dearest Father
   who made me, and who saved,
   Bore with me in defilement,
   and from defilement laved.

14. When in His strength I struggle,
   for very joy I leap;
   When in my sin I totter,
   I weep, or try to weep:
   And grace, sweet grace celestial,
   shall all its love display,
   And David’s royal fountain
   purge every stain away.

15. O sweet and blessèd country,
   shall I ever see thy face?
   O sweet and blessèd country,
   shall I ever win thy grace?
   I have the hope within me
   to comfort and to bless!
   Shall I ever win the prize itself?
   O tell me, tell me, Yes!

16. Strive, man, to win that glory;
   toil, man, to gain that light;
   Send hope before to grasp it,
   till hope be lost in sight.
   Exult, O dust and ashes,
   the Lord shall be thy part:
   His only, His forever
   thou shalt be, and thou art.

That's way too many verses for people to sing at one time! At least now, anyway. But it makes for good devotional reading...
</idle musing>

We intend to communicate

One of the strongest claims of the [relevance] theory is that humans, by producing utterances, have the intention to communicate, a claim that is important when considered from a literary background in which deconstruction has reigned supreme. Relevance theory also provides a theoretical underpinning for human strategies of communication and, in addition, for the miscommunication that frequently occurs.—Margaret Sim, A Relevant Way to Read, 117

<idle musing>
That's the end of this short little book. I hope you learned something—or at least were reminded of things you already knew.

Next up is a book a friend of mine gave me just prior to the Covid-19 outbreak. It sat on my bookshelf, but then a while ago, I read something somewhere that reminded me that I own the book. So, I picked it up and began to slowly read through it. I hope you enjoy it. The name of the book is —The Holy Longing, by Ronald Heiser.
</idle musing>

For all the saints, who from their labor rest

527 Sarum. 10. 10. 10. 10. with Allelulias.
      (second tune) Sine Nomine. 10. 10. 10. with Allelulias.

1 For all the saints who from their labors rest,
   Who Thee by faith before the world confessed,
   Thy name, O Jesus, be forever blest.
   Alleluia! Alleluia!

2 Thou wast their Rock, their Fortress and their Might;
   Thou, Lord, their Captain in the well-fought fight;
   Thou, in the darkness drear, their one true Light.
   Alleluia! Alleluia!

3 Oh, may Thy soldiers, faithful, true, and bold,
   Fight as the saints who nobly fought of old
   And win with them the victor’s crown of gold.
   Alleluia! Alleluia!

4 O blest communion, fellowship divine,
   We feebly struggle, they in glory shine;
   Yet all are one in Thee, for all are Thine.
   Alleluia! Alleluia!

5 And when the strife is fierce, the warfare long,
   Steals on the ear the distant triumph song,
   And hearts are brave again, and arms are strong.
   Alleluia! Alleluia!

6 From earth’s wide bounds, from ocean’s farthest coast,
   Through gates of pearl, streams in the countless host,
   Singing to Father, Son and Holy Ghost,
   Alleluia! Alleluia!
                         William W. How
                         The Methodist Hymnal 1939 edition

<idle musing>
We always sang the second tune, the name of which always struck me as funny; sine nomine means "without a name," which by naming it means it isn't without a name any longer. Anyway, I was surprised to find that it is only in about 530 hymnals. Some add another two verses:

6 But lo! there breaks a yet more glorious day;
   The saints triumphant rise in bright array;
   The King of glory passes on His way.
   Alleluia! Alleluia!

8 The golden evening brightens in the west;
   Soon, soon to faithful warriors cometh rest.
   Sweet is the calm of Paradise the blest.
   Alleluia! Alleluia!

</idle musing>

A summary of a few Greek particles

I append here a brief summary of my suggestions for these particles:

Ἵνα introduces a potential state of affairs;
Ὅτι by contrast introduces an actual state of affairs, from the perspective of the speaker;
Ὡς alerts the reader to expect a representation that may not in fact be a true state of affairs;
Καίπερ constrains the logical relations possible with participles;
Γάρ supports previous material
While οὖν asserts the relevance of new material.—Margaret Sim, A Relevant Way to Read, 98

The transforming power of the gospel (Tozer for Tuesday)

If the gospel does not change a man, transform him and take the evil out of him, then he does not have the gospel in power. The gospel is a transforming power; otherwise you have a name to live and you are dead.—A.W. Tozer, Reclaiming Christianity, 102

On Jordan's stormy banks I stand

523 Varina. C. M. D.

1 On Jordan's stormy banks I stand,
   And cast a wishful eye
   To Canaan's fair and happy land,
   Where my possessions lie.
   There gen'rous fruits that never fail,
   On trees immortal grow;
   There rocks and hills, and brooks and vales,
   With milk and honey flow.

2 All o'er those wide extended plains
   Shines one eternal day;
   There God the Son forever reigns,
   And scatters night away.
   No chilling winds, nor pois'nous breath
   Can reach that healthful shore;
   Sickness and sorrow, pain and death,
   Are felt and fear'd no more.

3 When shall I reach that happy place,
   I'll be forever blest?
   When shall I see my Father's face,
   And in his bosom rest?
   Fill'd with delight my raptur'd soul
   Would here no longer stay;
   Tho' Jordan's waves around me roll,
   Fearless I'd launch away.
                         The Methodist Hymnal 1939 edition
                         Samuel Stennett

<idle musing>
This popular hymn usually breaks the verses above into six verses instead of three. There is also another verse that is sometimes inserted:

2 O the transporting rapt'rous scene,
   That rises to my sight!
   Sweet fields array'd in living green,
   And rivers of delight!
  

The 1987 Methodist Hymnal also ends each verse with a chorus:

Refrain:
   I am bound for the promised land,
   I am bound for the promised land;
   oh, who will come and go with me?
   I am bound for the promised land.

His bio (linked above) contains this statement, which although probably true isn't exactly what I would hope any bio of me would say if I were a hymnwriter!

His poetical genius was not of the highest order, and his best hymns have neither the originality nor the vigour of some of his grandfather's. The following, however, are pleasing in sentiment and expression, and are in common use more especially in Baptist congregations (a list of hymns follows)

</idle musing>

More on οὖν

The procedural instruction that the particle οὖν gives is: ‘this is still relevant’! In other words it encourages the reader to proceed with the text in the belief that the new information is pertinent and directly related to what has gone before. This is particularly necessary if there has been a small digression, as frequently (but not always) happens before the introduction of οὖν.—Margaret Sim, A Relevant Way to Read, 96

Sound familiar?

The “mobilizing passions” of fascism: (1) a sense of overwhelming crisis beyond the reach of any traditional solutions; (2) the primacy of the group, toward which one has duties superior to every right, whether individual or universal, and the subordination of the individual to it; (3) the belief that one’s group is a victim, a sentiment that justifies any action, without legal or moral limits, against its enemies, both internal and external; (4) dread of the group’s decline under the corrosive effects of individualistic liberalism, class conflict, and alien influences; (5) the need for closer integration of a purer community, by consent if possible, or by exclusionary violence if necessary; (6) the need for authority by natural chiefs (always male), culminating in a national chieftain who alone is capable of incarnating the group’s historical destiny; (7) the superiority of the leader’s instincts over abstract and universal reason; (8) the beauty of violence and the efficacy of will, when they are devoted to the group’s success; (9) the right of the chosen people to dominate others without restraint from any kind of human or divine law, right being decided by the sole criterion of the group’s prowess within a Darwinian struggle.—Robert O. Paxton, The Anatomy of Fascism (New York: Knopf, 2004), 219–20.

<idle musing>
Let those who have ears, hear! Note the date of publication, over ten years before #45.
</idle musing>

It singeth low in every heart

521 Auld Lang Syne. C. M. D.

1 It singeth low in every heart,
   We hear it each and all;
   A song of those who answer not,
   However we may call.
   They throng the silence of the breast;
   We see them as of yore,
   The kind, the true, the brave, the sweet,
   Who walk with us no more.

2 ’Tis hard to take the burden up,
   When these have laid it down;
   They brightened all the joy of life,
   They softened every frown.
   But, O ’tis good to think of them
   When we are troubled sore;
   Thanks be to God that such have been,
   Though they are here no more!

3 More homelike seems the vast unknown
   Since they have entered there;
   To follow them were not so hard,
   Wherever they may fare.
   They cannot be where God is not,
   On any sea or shore;
   Whate’er betides, Thy love abides,
   Our God, for evermore.
                         John W. Chadwick
                         The Methodist Hymnal 1939 edition

<idle musing>
This hymn only occurs in sixty-four hymnals. Most versions break the verses into two halves—hence the Methodist hymnal's "D" in the meter, which means doubled.
</idle musing>

Abide with me

520 Eventide. 10. 10. 10. 10.

1 Abide with me; fast falls the eventide;
   The darkness deepens; Lord, with me abide
   When other helpers fail and comforts flee,
   Help of the helpless, O abide with me.

2 Swift to its close ebbs out life's little day;
   Earth's joys grow dim; its glories pass away;
   Change and decay in all around I see;
   O Thou who changest not, abide with me.

3 I need Thy presence ev'ry passing hour;
   What but Thy grace can foil the tempter's pow'r?
   Who, like Thyself, my guide and stay can be?
   Through cloud and sunshine, O abide with me.

4 I fear no foe, with Thee at hand to bless;
   Ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness.
   Where is death's sting? Where, grave, thy victory?
   I triumph still, if Thou abide with me.

5 Hold Thou Thy cross before my closing eyes;
   Shine through the gloom and point me to the skies;
   Heav'n's morning breaks, and earth's vain shadows flee;
   In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me.
                         Henry F. Lyte
                         The Methodist Hymnal 1939 edition