tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22053387.post-1139634565223123972006-02-10T20:40:00.000-08:002006-02-10T21:12:57.526-08:00<div align="justify">I have no real story here, I am just feeling nostalgic for the congregation where I used to lead singing. We learned this song together and I always get slightly choked up singing it (just slightly nowadays, but still. . .) </div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">It was written by Henry F. Lyte, a Scotsman who moved to Ireland as a lad, attended Trinity College and was assigned to pastor in Taghmon. His friendship with fellow pastor Abraham Swanne during the latter's critical illness -- and their study of Scripture together during long talks -- is supposed to have been the inspiration for this hymn. I know of two tunes to go with it, though I've only ever sung it with the first:</div><ol><li><div align="justify"><strong>Ellesdie</strong> - long attributed to Mozart, sources list it in Joshua Leavitt's <em>Christian Lyre</em> (1831). The familiar four-part arrangment is by Hubert Main, 1872.</div></li><li><div align="justify"><strong>Hyfrodol </strong>- best known with "Come, Thou Long Expected Jesus," by Rowland Prichard, 1830.</div></li></ol><p align="justify">That's all for this week. Take care of each other. Go in peace. </p><p align="justify">And RIP Glen Shoemaker, you sweet, sweet man.</p><p><br /><strong>Jesus, I My Cross Have Taken</strong></p><p><br />Jesus, I my cross have taken, all to leave and follow Thee.<br />Destitute, despised, forsaken, Thou from hence my all shall be.<br />Perish every fond ambition, all I’ve sought or hoped or known.<br />Yet how rich is my condition! God and heaven are still mine own.<br /><br />Let the world despise and leave me, they have left my Savior, too.<br />Human hearts and looks deceive me; Thou art not, like them, untrue.<br />And while Thou shalt smile upon me, God of wisdom, love and might,<br />Foes may hate and friends disown me, show Thy face and all is bright.<br /><br />Go, then, earthly fame and treasure! Come, disaster, scorn and pain!<br />In Thy service, pain is pleasure; with Thy favor, loss is gain.<br />I have called Thee, “Abba, Father”; I have set my heart on Thee:<br />Storms may howl, and clouds may gather, all must work for good to me.<br /><br />Man may trouble and distress me, ’twill but drive me to Thy breast.<br />Life with trials hard may press me; heaven will bring me sweeter rest.<br />Oh, ’tis not in grief to harm me while Thy love is left to me;<br />Oh, ’twere not in joy to charm me, were that joy unmixed with Thee.<br /><br />Take, my soul, thy full salvation; rise o’er sin, and fear, and care;<br />Joy to find in every station something still to do or bear:<br />Think what Spirit dwells within thee; what a Father’s smile is thine;<br />What a Savior died to win thee, child of heaven, shouldst thou repine?<br /><br />Haste then on from grace to glory, armed by faith, and winged by prayer,<br />Heaven’s eternal day’s before thee, God’s own hand shall guide thee there.<br />Soon shall close thy earthly mission, swift shall pass thy pilgrim days;<br />Hope soon change to glad fruition, faith to sight, and prayer to praise. </p>The Polyhistornoreply@blogger.com