As the Bridegroom to His Chosen

Posted on November 3, 2006 by Barbara Harper

This hymn has been on my heart for the last few days:

As the Bridegroom to His Chosen

As the bridegroom to his chosen, as the king unto his realm,
As the keeper to the castle, as the pilot to the helm.
As the captain to his soldiers, as the shepherd to his lambs,
So, Lord, art thou to me.

As the fountain in the garden, as the candle in the dark,
As the treasure in the coffer, as the manna in the ark,
As the firelight in the winter, as the sunlight in the spring
So Lord art thou to me.

As the music at the banquet, as the stamp unto the seal,
As refreshment to the fainting, as the winecup at the meal,
As the singing on the feast day, as the amen to the prayer,
So Lord art thou to me.

As the ruby in the setting, as the honey in the comb
As the light within the lantern, as the father in the home,
As the eagle in the mountains, as the sparrow in the nest,
So Lord art thou to me.

As the sunshine in the heavens, as the image in the glass,
As the fruit unto the fig tree, as the dew unto the grass,
As the rainbow on the hilltop, as the river in the plain,
So Lord art thou to me.

— Johannes Tauler

You can hear a snippet of it here. I first heard it on a CD titled “His way Is Perfect” by Sherry Oliver Trainer. Though I found that CD here, I couldn’t find a source that had music clips from it. But it inspires my heart to worship every time I hear it or think through the words.

I Want a Principle Within

Posted on October 30, 2006 by Barbara Harper

I want a principle within of watchful, godly fear,
A sensibility of sin, a pain to feel it near.
I want the first approach to feel of pride or wrong desire,
To catch the wandering of my will, and quench the kindling fire.

From Thee that I no more may stray, no more Thy goodness grieve,
Grant me the filial awe, I pray, the tender conscience give.
Quick as the apple of an eye, O God, my conscience make;
Awake my soul when sin is nigh, and keep it still awake.

Almighty God of truth and love, to me Thy power impart;
The mountain from my soul remove, the hardness from my heart.
O may the least omission pain my reawakened soul,
And drive me to that blood again, which makes the wounded whole.

— Charles Wesley, 1749

Richard Armour

Posted on October 20, 2006 by Barbara Harper

Some years ago I came across a poem by Richard Armour in a book that was a collection of quotes and poems about home and family. I just loved his poem — it was both sweet and funny. I began to research to try to find out more about Amour and to find the book this poem came from. It turns out he was a prolific writer who used to have a newspaper column called “Armour’s Armory.” He’s written about home and family, history, Shakespeare, and a lot of other topics. Unfortunately most of his books appear to be out of print, but fortunately you can find many at amazon.com for a dollar or two plus shipping. I ordered three in order to try and find this poem (plus one book on a different topic, Going Like Sixty. No, I wont be sixty for a while yet, but thought this book would be funny, and wanted to get it while it is available).

I did finally find the poem I was seeking in The Spouse in the House. The book jacket calls his verse “playful” and “human as well as humorous.”

Here’s the poem that first intrigued me and started my search:

Teamwork

A splendid team, my wife and I:
She washes dishes, and I dry.
I sometimes pass her back a dish
To give another cleansing swish.
She sometimes holds up to the light
A glass I haven’t dried just right.
But mostly there is no complaint,
Or it is courteous and faint,
For I would never care to see
The washing job consigned to me,
And though the things I dry still drip,
She keeps me for companionship.

Here’s another:

Down the Tube

I’ve seen my wife with anger burn
At something that I never learn:
The toothpaste tube I squeeze and bend
At top and middle, not the end.

She scolds me, pointing out my error,
Makes use of scorn and taunts and terror,
But I forget and go on squeezing
The toothpaste tube in ways displeasing.

In larger things we are convivial:
What causes trouble is the trivial.

I’ve marked a few more, but I don’t want to bore you by going on too long. I’ll leave you with the last one in the book:

Well, Come In

You can have your Welcome mats.
I ask for just a little more
When I come home from work, and that’s
A Welcome mate inside my door.

That’s a bit convicting to me — too often I’m a distracted mate.

Of course, since as far as I can tell he is not a saved man, there might be some objectionable things in his writings. I haven’t found any yet beyond an occasional mention of alcohol, but I wanted to be careful with a disclaimer in case someone else finds something.

The book was such easy reading that I finished it in a few days and added it to my fall reading list in my side bar. I’m looking forward to reading the others I bought and probably even buying some more. Hope you enjoyed them, too — you might be seeing more quotes from Armour in the future. 🙂

I am not skilled to understand

Posted on October 14, 2006 by Barbara Harper

I am not skilled to understand
What God hath willed, what God hath planned;
I only know that at His right hand
Is One Who is my Savior!

I take Him at His word indeed;
“Christ died for sinners”—this I read;
For in my heart I find a need
Of Him to be my Savior!

That He should leave His place on high
And come for sinful man to die,
You count it strange? So once did I,
Before I knew my Savior!

And oh, that He fulfilled may see
The travail of His soul in me,
And with His work contented be,
As I with my dear Savior!

Yea, living, dying, let me bring
My strength, my solace from this Spring;
That He Who lives to be my King
Once died to be my Savior!

— Dorothy Greenwell, 1873

October’s Party

Posted on October 3, 2006 by Barbara Harper

October’s Party
by George Cooper

October gave a party;
The leaves by hundreds came.
The Chestnuts, Oaks and Maples,
And leaves of every name.

The Sunshine spread a carpet,
And everything was grand,
Miss Weather led the dancing,
Professor Wind the band.

The Chestnuts came in yellow,
The Oaks in crimson dressed;
The lovely Misses maple
In scarlet looked their best.

All balanced to their partners,
And gaily fluttered by;
The sight was like a rainbow
New fallen from the sky.

(Photo courtesy of stock.xchange)

A corn of wheat

Posted on September 29, 2006 by Barbara Harper

Wher’er you ripened fields behold
Waving to God their shields of gold,
Be sure some corn of wheat has died,
Some saintly soul been crucified:
Someone has suffered, wept, and prayed,
And fought hell’s legions undismayed.

–A. S. Booth Clibborn

Verily, verily, I say unto you, Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone: but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit. –John 12:24

Amy Carmichael: Victory During Illness

Posted on September 25, 2006 by Barbara Harper

God hath caused me to be fruitful in the land of my affliction.
Genesis 41:52b

For the last twenty years of Amy Carmicahel’s life she was an invalid, yet she remained in India as acting head of the Dohnavur Fellowship. What had begun with the rescue of one child from being sold into temple prostitution grew to orphanages and a hospital and a full-fledged compound. In Frank Houghton’s biography of her, Amy Carmichael of Dohnavur, he prefaces this section of her life with the following poem by C. A. Fox, which has been a great blessing to me:

Two glad services are ours,
Both the Master loves to bless.
First we serve with all our powers–
Then with all our feebleness.

Nothing else the soul uplifts,
Save to serve Him night and day,
Serve Him when He gives His gifts–
Serve Him when He takes away.

One day Amy received a shipment of tracts for the ill. As she read them, they just did not do anything for her. As she pondered that, she realized it was because they were written from well people telling sick people how they ought to feel. Over many years she had written notes of encouragement to various ones in the Dohnavur Hospital (named, in the descriptive Indian way, Place of Heavenly Healing), and some of these were compiled in a book titled Rose From Brier. They are rich in their
spiritual encouragement and insight, partly precisely because they were written by one who had shared in the fellowship of sufferings.

In another of Amy’s books, she wrote the following:

This prayer was written for the ill and for the very tired. It is so easy to fail when not feeling fit. As I thought of them, I also remembered those who, thank God, are not ill and yet can be hard-pressed. Sometimes in the midst of the rush of things it seems impossible always to be peaceful, always to be inwardly sweet. Is that not so? Yet that and nothing less is our high calling. So the prayer is really for us all.

Before the winds that blow do cease,
Teach me to dwell within Thy calm;
Before the pain has passed in peace,
Give me, my God, to sing a psalm,
Let me not lose the chance to prove
The fulness of enabling love,
O Love of God, do this for me;
Maintain a constant victory.

Before I leave the desert land
For meadows of immortal flowers,
Lead me where streams at Thy command
Flow by the borders of the hours,
That when the thirsty come, I may
Show them the fountains in the way.
O Love of God, do this for me;
Maintain a constant victory.

Blessed be God, even the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies, and the God of all comfort;Who comforteth us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort them which are in any trouble, by the comfort wherewith we ourselves are comforted of God.
For as the sufferings of Christ abound in us, so our consolation also aboundeth by Christ.
II Corinthian 1:3-5

Do Not I Love Thee?

Posted on September 25, 2006 by Barbara Harper

This song has been ministering to my heart since I first heard it, but it has been on my mind a lot this past week.

Do not I love Thee, O my Lord?
Behold my heart and see;
And turn each cursèd idol out,
That dares to rival Thee.

Do not I love Thee, O my Lord?
Then let me nothing love;
Dead be my heart to every joy,
When Jesus cannot move.

Within the darkness of this heart,
Other gods would vie for my affections.
But Thou art exalted far above all gods.
Let nothing keep me from Thy love.

Thou know’st I love Thee, dearest Lord,
But O, I long to soar
Far from the sphere of mortal joys,
And learn to love Thee more!

I don’t know about you, but for me, the other gods vying for my affection seems almost constant. I do pray that the Lord will “turn each cursed idol out that dares to rival” Him and help me “learn to love [Him] more.”

This is the version as sung by the Soundforth Choir on the CD “More Like You, Lord.” The hymn was written by Philp Doddridge, published in 1755 after his death. More of the verses to the original hymn can be found on Cyberhymnal. The tune there by Elizabeth Cuthbert is not one I am familar with. The interlude in stanza 3 above, the music, and the orchestration were written by Craig Curry.

Autumn

Posted on September 23, 2006 by Barbara Harper

Photo by Christopher Potter.

Winter is an etching, spring a watercolor, summer an oil painting and autumn a mosaic of them all.
– Stanley Horowitz

I cannot endure to waste anything as precious as autumn sunshine by staying in the house. So I spend almost all
the daylight hours in the open air.
– Nathaniel Hawthorne

Autumn is the eternal corrective. It is ripeness and color and a time of maturity; but it is also breadth, and depth, and distance. What man can stand with autumn on a hilltop and fail to see the span of his world and the meaning of the rolling hills that reach to the far horizon?
– Hal Borland

No Spring nor Summer Beauty hath such grace
As I have seen in one Autumnal face.
– John Donne

Come, said the wind to the leaves one day,
Come o’re the meadows and we will play.
Put on your dresses scarlet and gold,
For summer is gone and the days grow cold.

Soon as the leaves heard the wind’s loud call,
Down they came fluttering, one and all;
Over the brown fields they danced and flew,
Singing the glad little songs they knew.

–George Cooper

Summer and winter, and springtime and harvest,
Sun, moon, and stars in their courses above
Join with all nature in manifold witness
To Thy great faithfulness, mercy, and love.

— From “Great Is Thy Faithfulness” by Thomas O. Chisholm

Photo by Vocaris.

Photos courtesy of stock.xchng.

Missionary Anecdotes: Isn’t “No” an Answer?

Posted on September 20, 2006 by Barbara Harper

Just a tiny little child
Three years old,

And a mother with a heart

All of gold.

Often did that mother say,

Jesus hears us when we pray,

For He’s never far away
And He always answers.

Now, that tiny little child

Had brown eyes,

And she wanted blue instead

Like blue skies.

For her mother’s eyes were blue

Like forget-me-nots. She knew

All her mother said was true,

Jesus always answered.

So she prayed for two blue eyes,

Said “Good night,”

Went to sleep in deep content

And delight.

Woke up early, climbed a chair

By a mirror. Where, O where

Could the blue eyes be? Not there;

Jesus hadn’t answered.

Hadn’t answered her at all;

Never more

Could she pray; her eyes were brown

As before.

Did a little soft wind blow?

Came a whisper soft and low,

“Jesus answered. He said, No;

Isn’t No an answer?”

The above poem, written by Amy Carmichael, was based on on incident that actually did occur in her life when she was three. It turned out to be in the providence of God for her to have brown eyes. She became a missionary to India in the late 1890s. At first her ministry was primarily evangelistic. But along the way she became aware that some parents in India sold their daughters to the temple, where they were used for immoral purposes. God led one such child to her, and through a series of events and a sense of the Lord’s leading, Amy took the child in. Then more stories of other girls (and later, boys) surfaced and more opportunities to rescue and provide homes for these children arose. Amy had to struggle with this, because the Lord had seemed to be blessing her evangelistic work. Was it right to turn from that ministry to give herself to housing and raising children? She concluded that that was indeed God’s will for her life. The ministry grew exponentially and eventually became a whole compound, with housing for children of all ages, the workers who took care of them, and even their own hospital.

As Amy went “undercover” to find details of these children, she would stain her arms with coffee and wear Indian dress so that she could pass as an Indian woman and move freely in Indian society where she never could have as an Irish missionary. This she could not have done with blue eyes — her eyes would have given her away immediately. Neither she nor her mother could have ever known, all those years ago, the Lord’s purpose for her brown eyes, but the lesson of faith stayed with her all her life.

(Recommended biographies of Amy Carmichael: Amy Carmichael of Dohnavur by Frank L. Houghton; A Chance to Die by Elisabeth Elliot; and With Daring Faith (a children’s book) by Rebecca H. Davis.)