Re: For they know not what...
- From: Whiskers <catwheezel@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
- Date: Wed, 18 Apr 2007 22:47:55 +0100
On 2007-04-18, Jenny Brien <jennybrien@xxxxxxxxxxxxxx> wrote:
On Apr 18, 9:20 am, downsizingmylife <delightdarl...@xxxxxxxxx> wrote:
On Apr 14, 12:41 pm, "Jenny Brien" <jenni...@xxxxxxxxxxxxxx> wrote:
ps....jenny.... whiskers....can yall sing, carry a tune??? i can't but
love reading and hearing music...i have a record player and records
but my niece has so many records we can't count them all so every few
weeks she comes over and we play records...everything from polka to
belly dancing music...bagpipes, now i can't hear enough, hehe....f....
Like Whiskers, I can "almost sing." And like Whiskers, I was born
Methodist. In fact, I'm backworshipping in my native church because
there are no Quakers within 40 miles.
British Methodist churches are renowned for the hearty singing. When you
get a good crowd all singing as well as they can, the overall effect is
not displeasing and can be quite overwhelming. Not at all like the formal
and often timid C of E congregational singing.
I love singing in church, because then I don't have to worry what it
sounds like. Even if that does mean singing "Dear Lord and Father"
fortisimmo. It always struck me as ironic that it's sung as if the
voice of God were in the earthquake, wind and fire, though that's
clearly a reference to Elijah.
Hehheh :)) when everyone is 'almost singing' the different degrees of
'almost' seem to compensate for each other :)) Even if you only have one
note, sing it load at the right moment and who cares if all the other
right notes are sung by someone else?
Strings, pipes, bells, and reeds, all have one note they can do really
well; music happens when the individuals work together.
I have the sort of mind that remembers hymns and poems and scripture
even when I'm not trying. Another old hymn I like is about the
Tranfiguration. It puts me straight when I get too hungry for mystical
Stay, Master, stay, upon this heavenly hill;
A little longer, let us linger still;
With all the mighty ones of old beside,
Near to the Awful presence still abide;
Before God's throne of light we trembling stand,
And catch a glimpse into the spirit land.
Stay, Master, stay! we breathe a purer air;
This life is not the life that waits us there;
Thoughts, feelings, flashes, glimpses come and go;
We cannot speak them-nay, we do not know;
Wrapped in this cloud of light we seem to be
The thing we fain would grow-eternally.
"No!" saith the Lord, "the hour is past," we go;
Our home, our life, our duties lie below.
While here we kneel upon the mount of prayer,
The plough lies waiting in the furrow there!
Here we sought God that we might know His will;
There we must do it, serve Him, seek Him still.
If man aspires to reach the throne of God,
O'er the dull plains of earth must lie the road;
He who best does his lowly duty here,
Shall mount the highest in a nobler sphere:
At God's own feet our spirits seek their rest,
And he is dearest Him who serves Him best.
I think that's a new one to me.
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