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| Wake me when its over. |
This Blog Will Be
CLOSED
till
FURTHER NOTICE
Friday, April 24, 2020
Wednesday, April 22, 2020
Friday, April 17, 2020
_____ AMERICA _____
My country, 'tis of thee,
Sweet land of liberty,
Of thee I sing;
Land where my fathers died,
Land of the pilgrims' pride,
From ev'ry mountainside
Let freedom ring!
My native country, thee,
Land of the noble free,
Thy name I love;
I love thy rocks and rills,
Thy woods and templed hills.
My heart with rapture thrills
Like that above.
Let music swell the breeze
And ring from all the trees
Sweet freedom's song;
Let mortal tongues awake;
Let all that breathe partake;
Let rocks their silence break,
The sound prolong.
Our fathers' God, to thee,
Author of liberty,
To thee we sing;
Long may our land be bright
With freedom's holy light.
Protect us by thy might,
Great God, our King!
~ § ~
Text: Samuel F. Smith, 1808-1895
Music: From Thesaurus Musicus, London, 1744
[known in England as “God Bless Our Native Land
and in the United States as “America”]
Jun 30, 2015 - Uploaded by Hillsdale College
America the Beautiful By Katharine Lee Bates, 1913. O beautiful for spacious skies, For amber waves of ... |
| Lest we forget ... |
Sunday, April 12, 2020
Perhaps It Is In Darkness That We Are Most Aware of the
Resurrection
Resurrection
APRIL 12, 2020
by Kylee Zempel
A pandemic rages, and death is everywhere.
It looms overhead like a low, dark cloud. It drowns out our church bells and voices and mocks us. Everything bears its witness: empty halls and dark storefronts and absent grandparents and sterile shields where smiles used to be. Streets are too silent and thoughts are too loud. One, two, 800, 100,000 gone — the toll rise.
Friends and paychecks disappear, leaving only vices. Morale sinks low as screen time skyrockets. Another hour lost, another drink consumed. Goodbye to gyms, hello to binging.
One girl looks longingly at the cap and tassel she’ll never wear. A young man says goodbye to his father, so recently in remission. New parents weep quietly, separated from their little one in the NICU. A bride puts away her gown, and with it a lifelong dream. Only uncertainty is certain now. Only death seems to grant rest from the unrest.
Look for the light at the end of the tunnel — the conventional wisdom. But these are unconventional days. The tunnel extends on and on, growing darker with each lay-off, each citation, each cough, each headline. Where is the light?
Today, church gathering places are vacant. This holy day, light filters through stained glass and falls on empty pews, while brothers and sisters around the world are kept apart. Communion and fellowship are condemned. We know that love regards the health of others, but what about spiritual health? What about souls? We succumb to more darkness and more death.
But darkness has swallowed up the light before, when 2,000 years ago the Savior we celebrate was crucified. Sin and death prevailed that day. The earth shook, and the rocks split, and the grave swallowed the King.
What weight and what dread that a longed-for Messiah would come only to die a gruesome death. So much for hope. So much for deliverance. The light at the end of the tunnel was snuffed out when the Light of the World was crucified.
But it was finished.
The grave could not defeat life. Darkness could not overcome Light. A beam pierced the black tomb as the stone was rolled away, revealing only grave clothes in the dust. “He is not here, for he is risen, as he said.”
He is risen indeed, sitting in glory next to the Father. The same power that raised him now lives in those who place their trust in him and yield to his will, longing for his imminent return.
The Light of the World crushed sin and darkness, robbing their power and bringing new life to dead sinners without hope — and not only life, but life abundant and eternal.
Maybe it’s in the darkest of days that we’re most aware of the resurrection — and more in search of the Light.
Oh, death, where is your sting? Oh, hell, where is your victory?
Kylee Zempel is an assistant editor at The Federalist. Follow her on Twitter @kyleezempel.
Friday, April 10, 2020
Cold He lay behind the heavy stone,
Hidden there with broken hands and feet.
Ruthless powers crushed His flesh and bone.
It looked to be the ultimate defeat.
Sadly, in the dawn Saint Mary’s three
Trudged toward the tomb wherein He lay.
Instead of death, an angel helped them see,
Startled, that the stone was rolled away!
A risen Jesus stood! He still drew breath!
Radiance around Him warmed the air.
In banks of lilies sweet we now see death
Stripped of terror. Life, eternal, fair,
Enjoins us all to claim His victory.
Naught could stop us save our vanity.
~ FreeThinke, The Sandpiper - Spring 1996
HAPPY
EASTER!!!
Mar 23, 2019 - Uploaded by Studio Ars Sonora
Olivier Messiaen L'ASCENSION III. Transports de joie d'une âme devant la gloire du Christ qui est la sienne ...
Messiah
Dec 5, 2014 - Uploaded by Soprano Haendel
conductor: Vàclav Luks Collegium&Collegium Vocale 1704.
Conductor: Vàclav Luks
Collegium&Collegium Vocale 1704
Hana Blazikova - soprano
Delphine Galou - alto
Markus Brutscher - tenor
Marlan Krejcik - bajo
Lugar: Abadia de Saint Robert
de la Chasse Dieu
27 abril 2011
Wednesday, April 8, 2020
__ East Coker IV __
The wounded surgeon plies the steel
That questions the distempered part;
Beneath the bleeding hands we feel
The sharp compassion of the healer’s art
Resolving the enigma of the fever chart.
Our only health is the disease
If we obey the dying nurse
Whose constant care is not to please
But to remind of our, and Adam’s curse,
And that, to be restored, our sickness must grow worse.
The whole earth is our hospital
Endowed by the ruined millionaire,
Wherein, if we do well, we shall
Die of the absolute paternal care
That will not leave us, but prevents us everywhere.
The chill ascends from feet to knees,
The fever sings in mental wires.
If to be warmed, then I must freeze
And quake in frigid purgatorial fires
Of which the flame is roses, and the smoke is briars.
The dripping blood our only drink,
The bloody flesh our only food:
In spite of which we like to think
That we are sound, substantial flesh and blood—
Again, in spite of that, we call this Friday good.
~ T.S. Eliot - from Four Quartets
Apr 10, 2015 - Uploaded by Cezar Verlan
Cantemus Chamber Choir - Timisoara, Romania Francis Poulenc - Tenebrae factae sunt 28 april 2013 ...
Darkness fell upon the earth when Jesus was crucified. And at the ninth hour He cried with a loud voice: “Father, Father, why hast thou forsaken me?” Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit. And then He meekly bowed his head, and died.
VICTIM VICTORIOUS
They took and tried, and tortured, then they killed
Him who sought to heal humanity
Established Evil, drunk with power, swilled
Lava-like liqueur. Then, Vanity
Overcame Compassion with great ease.
Regarding all with cynical disdain
Destructive Self-Protection –– a disease
Inflicting without mercy boundless pain ––
Securing only Insecurity ––
Appeared to stop the Upstart for all time.
Lies. however. spawn no sense of surety.
Immortal Truth stood witness to their crime.
Victim humbled cruelly –– butchered –– He
Emerged to free our lives –– internally.
~ FreeThinke
IN DEEPEST GRIEF
The Final Chorus from J.S. Bach's
The Passion According to Saint Matthew
Apr 12, 2009 - Uploaded by Malmö Kammarkör
Final Chorus of St Matthew Passion by J.S. Bach. Performed by Malmö Chamber Choir and orchestra https://youtu.be/-miQ6_FTtN
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