For All Saint's Day I sing a song of the saints of God, Patient and brave and true, Who toiled and fought and lived and died For the Lord they loved and knew. And one was a doctor, and one was a queen, And one was a shepherdess on the green; They were all of them saints of God, and I mean, God help me to be one too. They loved their Lord so dear, so dear, And his love made them strong; And they followed the right for Jesus' sake The whole of their good lives long. And one was a soldier, and one was a priest, And one was slain by a fierce wild beast; And there's not any reason, no, not the least, Why I shouldn't be one too. They lived not only in ages past, There are hundreds of thousands still. The world is bright with the joyous saints Who love to do Jesus' will. You can meet them in school, or in lanes, or at sea, In church, or in trains, or in shops, or at tea; For the saints of God are just folk like me, And I mean to be one too. Alternate lyrics used in some hymnals for third verse. They lived not only in ages past; There are hundreds of thousands still. The world is bright with the joyous saints Who love to do Jesus' will. You can meet them in school, on the street, in the store, In church, by the sea, in the house next door; They are saints of God, whether rich or poor, And I mean to be one too. Lesbia Scott 1929
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Thine the amen Thine the praise
Alleluias angels raise Thine the everlasting head Thine the breaking of the bread Thine the glory Thine the story Thine the harvest then the cup Thine the vineyard then the cup is lifted up, lifted up. Thine the life eternally Thine the promise let there be Thine the vision Thine the tree All the earth on bended knee Gone the nailing gone the railing Gone the pleading gone the cry Gone the sighing gone the dying what was loss lifted high. Thine the truly Thine the yes Thine the table we the guest Thine the mercy all from Thee Thine the glory yet to be Then the ringing and the singing Then the end of all the war Thine the living Thine the loving evermore, evermore. Thine the kingdom Thine the prize Thine the wonder full surprise Thine the banquet then the praise Then the justice of Thy ways Thine the glory Thine the story Then the welcome to the least Then the wonder all increasing at Thy feast, at Thy feast. Thine the glory in the night No more dying only light Thine the river Thine the tree Then the Lamb eternally Then the holy holy holy Celebration jubilee Thine the splendor Thine the brightness only Thee only Thee. LSB #680 Herb Brokering "Music is a semi-disciplinarian and schoolmaster; it makes men more gentle and tender-hearted, more modest and discreet...a schoolmaster must be able to sing, otherwise I will hear nothing of him." Martin Luther
Hildegard of Bingen d.n. 1179
* d.n. stands for die natalis (literally date of birth into heaven, used for saints.) Saw a Great Blue Heron in flight three separate times this weekend! (wish i could paint him as well as this!)
Very Bread, Good Shepherd Tend Us
Healey Willan Very Bread, Good Shepherd, tend us, Jesu of thy love befriend us; thou refresh us, thou defend us, thou eternal goodness send us in the land of life to see. Thou who all things canst and knowest, who on earth such food bestowest, grant us with thy saints, though lowest, where the heavenly feast thou showest, fellow heirs and guests to be. an advent favourite, hauntingly sung by Steve Bell We Come Our hearts are empty without You Barren and cold But for the bold Hope that You Yourself Planted within In the mighty name of God In the saving name of Jesus In the strong name of the Spirit We come We cry We watch We wait We look We long for you Sometimes we long for the morning For a refrain From etchings in pain Yet our loneliness Draws us to You a modern day psalm 23 for my dear bees. When the wild-eyed dogs of day to day Come snapping at your heels And there's so much coming at you That you don't know how to feel When they've taken all your money And then come back for your clothes When your hands are full of thorns But you can't quit groping for the rose In the southland of the heart Where night blooms perfume the breeze Lie down Take your rest with me When thoughts you've tried to leave behind Keep sniping from the dark When the fire burns inside you but You jump from every spark When your heart's beset by memories You wish you'd never made When the sun comes up an enemy And nothing gives you shade In the southland of the heart Where the saints go lazily Lie down Take your rest with me When the preacher lays his insight down And claims to lead the blind When those you trust just get you hooked And trifle with your mind When the nightmare's creeping closer And your wheels are in the mud When everything's ambiguous Except the taste of blood In the southland of the heart There's no question of degree Lie down Take your rest with me In the southland of the heart Everyone was always free Lie down Take your rest with me lyric by Bruce Cockburn OC I was reminded of an earlier post i wrote by a dear (and revolutionary) friend yesterday. I needed the reminder. |
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A wee explanation: this website was created as a way to amplify the daily surprise of seeing glory in one small life. The notebook entries represented here are all selected from things actually lived and noted on paper in an effort to live the full life British educator Charlotte Mason so ably championed.
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