Cruciformity

I’ve been playing my guitar and listening to music a fair bit recently. My friend Nick has been lending me CDs that he thinks that I’d like, and he gets it right most of the time. Anyway, the latest is Nick Drake’s Pink Moon and it is such a beautiful album (thanks Nick!). If you’re looking for something down-beat or something to play in the background, this would be well worth investigating. This was published back in 1972, his third and final album before he died aged 26 just two years later. The recording captures his voice and guitar so wonderfully, his songs are varied and interesting. It’s just great stuff.

His is a sad story, and his lyrics reflect this. You could say that he told it like he saw it, and for someone who suffered depression and sleeplessness and died by over-medication well before his time, I guess he’s not a sunny-side-up kind of guy. Nevertheless, his poetry is beautiful, and matches his music perfectly. You need to listen to the whole album when you get the chance.

Please have a listen to track 6: Things behind the Sun

I’ve been put onto George Herbert’s poems recently. Let me know if you have any favourites!

(Note that an ‘ague’ is something like ‘a fever’)

Lord, how I am all ague, when I seek
     What I have treasured in my memory!
     Since, if my soul make even with the week,
Each seventh note by right is due to thee.

I find there quarries of piled vanities,
     But shreds of holiness, that dare not venture
     To show their face, since cross to thy decrees:
There the circumference earth is, heav'n the centre.

In so much dregs the quintessence is small:
     The spirit and good extract of my heart
     Comes to about the many hundredth part.
Yet Lord restore thine image, hear my call:

     And though my hard heart scarce to thee can groan,
     Remember that thou once didst write in stone.

I’ve been working to make this site look better. Frankly, I don’t want to write on a blog where half of the stuff is written in Latin. There are still improvements to be made but this will do for now.

It’s been a relavatively long few months and it’s the end of another long day.

I like the end of the day. It’s quiet and peaceful and usually has a feeling of accomplishment and the hope of doing leisurely things. The sunset picture doesn’t really reflection my current situation (staring at my wall) but let’s just say that it’s for my benefit as well as yours… It has the loose association of also occuring at the end of the day…

Anyway, I was searching through the prayer book (AAPB) and found out there’s a service for the end of the day! Those guys thought of everything! Only yesterday was pontificating the merits of wearing robes in our church building at 7.30 on a Sunday morning….

For all of the crazy traditions that some Anglicans have, I’m fond of the simple, solid and focussed wording of some of the prayers.

In your mercy, Lord,

dispel the darkness of this night.

Let your household so sleep in peace

that at the dawn of a new day

they may with joy awaken in your name

through Christ our Lord. Amen

At the 8am service this morning I was struck by the words of one of the songs that we sang. I’m usually not in my finest form at this time of the morning, and add to that the temperature drop when you enter that building it’s striking that anything at all manages to cross my mind! But honestly, I was very moved as I was given words to express what I long to say - How sweet the name of Jesus sounds! I’ve been humming the tune all day!

I looked down at the author and, behold, it was our good friend John Newton. I have to find out some more and report back about this man. In the meantime, enjoy with me his song…

How sweet the Name of Jesus sounds

In a believer’s ear!

It soothes his sorrows, heals his wounds,

And drives away his fear.

It makes the wounded spirit whole,

And calms the troubled breast;

’Tis manna to the hungry soul,

And to the weary, rest.

Dear Name, the Rock on which I build,

My Shield and Hiding Place,

My never failing treasury, filled

With boundless stores of grace!

By Thee my prayers acceptance gain,

Although with sin defiled;

Satan accuses me in vain,

And I am owned a child.

Jesus! my Shepherd, Husband, Friend,

O Prophet, Priest and King,

My Lord, my Life, my Way, my End,

Accept the praise I bring.

Weak is the effort of my heart,

And cold my warmest thought;

But when I see Thee as Thou art,

I’ll praise Thee as I ought.

Till then I would Thy love proclaim

With every fleeting breath,

And may the music of Thy Name

Refresh my soul in death!

Apparently Bob wrote this when he was denied access to a hotel and so he looked for a time of vindication ‘when the ship comes in’. Sounds like a bit of an over-reaction if you ask me, but maybe there’s more to what happened at that hotel. This was written in his pre-Christian days but I like to think that this took on new meaning for him later on. For me it’s become an  expression of my hope of Christ’s return… you have to hear Bob sing it…

Oh the time will come up
When the winds will stop
And the breeze will cease to be breathin’.
Like the stillness in the wind
‘Fore the hurricane begins,
The hour when the ship comes in.

Oh the seas will split
And the ship will hit
And the sands on the shoreline will be shaking.
Then the tide will sound
And the wind will pound
And the morning will be breaking.

Oh the fishes will laugh
As they swim out of the path
And the seagulls they’ll be smiling.
And the rocks on the sand
Will proudly stand,
The hour that the ship comes in.

And the words that are used
For to get the ship confused
Will not be understood as they’re spoken.
For the chains of the sea
Will have busted in the night
And will be buried at the bottom of the ocean.

A song will lift
As the mainsail shifts
And the boat drifts on to the shoreline.
And the sun will respect
Every face on the deck,
The hour that the ship comes in.

Then the sands will roll
Out a carpet of gold
For your weary toes to be a-touchin’.
And the ship’s wise men
Will remind you once again
That the whole wide world is watchin’.

Oh the foes will rise
With the sleep still in their eyes
And they’ll jerk from their beds and think they’re dreamin’.
But they’ll pinch themselves and squeal
And know that it’s for real,
The hour when the ship comes in.

Then they’ll raise their hands,
Sayin’ we’ll meet all your demands,
But we’ll shout from the bow your days are numbered.
And like Pharaoh’s tribe,
They’ll be drownded in the tide,
And like Goliath, they’ll be conquered.

I have a developing love of poetry. So I’m beginning to explore what’s out there. Please let me know if there’s anything that you’d recommend.

A friend recently shared with me a precious poem by Dietrich Bonhoeffer. I’m a big fan of Bonhoeffer - please read up on him if he’s unfamiliar. I love this because because it so clearly expresses my own thoughts and experiences.

Who am I? They often tell me
I stepped from my cell’s confinement
Calmly, cheerfully, firmly,
Like a squire from his country-house.
Who am I? They often tell me
I used to speak to my warders
Freely and friendly and clearly,
As though it were mine to command.
Who am I? They also also tell me
I bore the days of misfortune
Equably, smilingly, proudly,
Like one accustomed to win.

Am I then really all that which other men tell me of?
Or am I only what I myself know of myself?
Restless and longing and sick, like a bird in a cage,
Struggling for breath, as though hands were compressing my thoat,
Yearning for colours, for flowers, for the voices of birds,
Thirsting for words of kindness, for neighbourliness,
Tossing in expectation of great events,
Powerlessly trembling for friends at an infinite distance,
Weary and empty at praying, at thinking, at making,
Faint, and ready to say farewell to it all.

Who am I? This or the other?
Am I one person today and tomorrow another?
Am I both at once? A hypocrite before others,
And before myself a contemptible woebegone weakling?
Or is something within me still like a beaten army,
Fleeing in disorder from victory already achieved?

Who am I? They mock me, these lonely questions of mine,
Whoever I am, Thou knowest, O God, I am thine!