There's a reason that Bertie Wooster, and a host of others led by the great Wodehouse himself, found the fair and lovely Madeline Bassett insufferable. She believed that "the stars are God's daisy chain" and that "Everytime a fairy blows her wee nose, a baby is born." But her simpering spirit stalks abroad, and she might be considered the patron of a particularly annoying usage that has spread like kudzu through the land.



A couple of weeks ago, I gave vent to exasperation at another linguistic tumor. It did me good. So here is another imprecation. Heed it. The existence of such a twee wordlet as "veggie" is an affront to decency and right thinking. Anyone's use of such diction proclaims things about the speaker that it were far better that the world did not know. Let it cease.

Musical training is a more potent instrument than any other, because rhythm and harmony find their way into the inward places of the soul, on which they mightily fasten, imparting grace, and making the soul of him who is rightly educated graceful, or of him who is ill-educated ungraceful.



Plato, in The Republic

Andrew Reed, the Congregationalist minister and poet, died on this date in 1862. Among his hymns is this urgent prayer to the Holy Spirit, which deserves to be better known.



Spirit divine, attend our prayer,

And make our heart Thy home;

Descend with all Thy gracious power;

Come, Holy Spirit, come.



Come as the light! to us reveal

The truth we long to know;

Reveal the narrow path of right,

The way of duty show.



Come as the fire and purge our hearts

Like sacrificial flame,

Till our whole souls an offering be

In love’s redeeming name.



Come as the dove, and spread Thy wings,

The wings of peaceful love;

And let Thy Church on earth become

Blest as Thy Church above.



Come as the wind, O Breath of God!

O Pentecostal grace!

Come, make Thy great salvation known,

Wide as the human race.



Spirit divine, attend our prayer;

Make a lost world Thy home;

Descend with all thy gracious powers,

O come, great Spirit, come.

The gifted music missionary Karl Kohlhase has launched his redesigned music site. Here are the lyrics of one of the moving songs from his CD Through The Dark. Go over here and listen to Karl sing it, and the beautifully plaintive He Died For Me.



Seeing Jesus Soon



I'm all alone, and yet there's Someone there

I've never seen His face or touched His hand

But there's a calm assurance in my heart

And I'm beginning now to understand



I've never seen the bottom of the ocean

And I've never been to the dark side of the moon

But that doesn't mean that they aren't real

And so I still believe

That I'll be seeing Jesus soon



Yes, there are times I'd like to see His form

Like Thomas touch my finger to the mark

Yet I am called to live by faith alone

With blinded eyes I see right through the dark



I've never seen the bottom of the ocean

And I've never been to the dark side of the moon

But that doesn't mean that they aren't real

And so I still believe

That I'll be seeing Jesus soon







Words and Music by Karl Kohlhase

© 2000 karl kohlhase

It would be peculiarly improper to omit in this first official Act, my fervent supplications to that Almighty Being who rules over the Universe, who presides in the Councils of Nations, and whose providential aids can supply every human defect, that his benediction may consecrate to the liberties and happiness of the People of the United States, a Government instituted by themselves for these essential purposes: and may enable every instrument employed in its administration to execute with success, the functions allotted to his charge. In tendering this homage to the Great Author of every public and private good, I assure myself that it expresses your sentiments not less than my own; nor those of my fellow-citizens at large, less than either. No People can be bound to acknowledge and adore the invisible hand, which conducts the Affairs of men, more than the People of the United States.



from the remarks of George Washington after taking the oath of office as President of the United States of America.



With continuing gratitude for the gifts and service of the Father of our Country, we celebrate on Saturday the anniversary of his birth, who is First in War, First in Peace, and First in the Hearts of His Countrymen.

I've heard it sung most recently by the Gaither Vocal Band and by Ivan Parker, but The Love of God is a long-time favorite of mine. Frederick Martin Lehman, who "based his lyr­ics on the Jew­ish poem Had­da­mut, writ­ten in Ara­ma­ic in 1050 by Meir Ben Isaac Ne­hor­ai," died in Pasadena, full of years, on this date in 1953.



An immigrant from Germany and a prolific song writer, Lehman served as a pastor in the Midwest after studying for the ministry at North Western College in Naperville.



I remember those college grounds from several bike rides through the town on a visit to my sister and her family a few years ago.



The love of God is greater far

Than tongue or pen can ever tell;

It goes beyond the highest star,

And reaches to the lowest hell;

The guilty pair, bowed down with care,

God gave His Son to win;

His erring child He reconciled,

And pardoned from his sin.



Refrain



O love of God, how rich and pure!

How measureless and strong!

It shall forevermore endure

The saints’ and angels’ song.



When years of time shall pass away,

And earthly thrones and kingdoms fall,

When men, who here refuse to pray,

On rocks and hills and mountains call,

God’s love so sure, shall still endure,

All measureless and strong;

Redeeming grace to Adam’s race—

The saints’ and angels’ song.



Refrain



Could we with ink the ocean fill,

And were the skies of parchment made,

Were every stalk on earth a quill,

And every man a scribe by trade,

To write the love of God above,

Would drain the ocean dry.

Nor could the scroll contain the whole,

Though stretched from sky to sky.

The day comes when one sees, all at once, that all those "abstract" problems which were perhaps difficult to understand are not mere schoolwork, boring for some, interesting or even exciting for others; one sees they are urgent problems, problems that pose the reality of life, that concern it wholly, and whose solution matters extremely. From that day on, philosophic reflection takes on a different character. It ceases to be a kind of work like any other. One no longer feels one has the right to get away from it systematically outside of the hours prescribed by the schedule; no longer the right -- nor even the inclination -- to close the door of one's inner life to it. But on the other hand, one no longer has the right to treat it with the old flippancy, no longer the right -- nor the wish -- to build up and tear down for the fun of it; no longer the right to trust too readily one's own insights; no longer the right to start with no matter whom and no matter what basic discussions, at the risk of sowing the seeds of trouble in oneself or in others. Sincerity then appears as a virtue not only necessary but difficult. Embarked on a serious adventure, one has the duty of thinking about it prayerfully and of treating Truth with sovereign respect.



Henri de Lubac

Paradoxes of Faith

PIETY. And what saw you else in the way?



CHRISTIAN. Saw! why, I went but a little further, and I saw one, as I thought in my mind, hang bleeding upon the tree; and the very sight of him made my burden fall off my back, (for I groaned under a very heavy burden,) but then it fell down from off me. It was a strange thing to me, for I never saw such a thing before; yea, and while I stood looking up, for then I could not forbear looking, three Shining Ones came to me. One of them testified that my sins were forgiven me; another stripped me of my rags, and gave me this broidered coat which you see; and the third set the mark which you see in my forehead, and gave me this sealed roll. (And with that he plucked it out of his bosom.)



John Bunyan published THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS on this date in 1678.

Last Friday, David Skinner at The Weekly Standard posted Stardumb: John Cusack. Not a very good article and I scanned more than read. But the following excerpt from an interview with Cusack on BeliefNet, Is Art Mightier Than War?, caught me.



You were raised Catholic, but in your new movie you play Max Rothman, who is Jewish. How did you prepare for the role?

I was raised Catholic until I was old enough, you know, to say no. My father was great friends with [peace activist] Phil Berrigan, who just passed away. So obviously, I was informed by his kind of radical, left-wing, Jesuit mindset.



It's an odd and revealing error and for some reason went uncorrected at either site. Philip Berrigan was, of course, not a Jesuit but a member of the Josephite Order, whose particular charism was central to his understanding of his priestly ministry. Philip's brother Daniel Berrigan is a Jesuit, but Cusack's confusion seems more than fraternal.

Of hidden streams and swiftly coursing minds,

Of fleeting tides and thoughts that trickle by;





David Henreckson posts a fine new sonnet at Chronicles of a Poet Warrior.

Richard Allen, founder and first Bishop of the African Methodist Episcopal Church and among the most distinguished men in a Philadelphia crowded with them, was born on this date in 1760.

Cecil Spring-Rice, a career diplomat who represented Great Britain in Japan, Germany, Persia, and Russia and served as Ambassador to the United States during World War I, died in Ottawa on this date in 1918. A month before his death, he wrote the words of a dedicatory anthem which was set several years later to music both stirring and solemn -- an excerpt from the Planets suite, in its hymn form called Thaxted -- by Gustav Holst.



There is neither chauvinism in his words, nor precisely the classical Roman sentiment of Horace's Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori, but an ideal instead of noble service and selfless devotion. And there are men and women still who live it, and who, protecting us, are prepared to die.



I vow to thee, my country—all earthly things above—

Entire and whole and perfect, the service of my love;

The love that asks no question, the love that stands the test,

That lays upon the altar the dearest and the best;

The love that never falters, the love that pays the price,

The love that makes undaunted the final sacrifice.



And there’s another country, I’ve heard of long ago—

Most dear to them that love her, most great to them that know;

We may not count her armies, we may not see her King;

Her fortress is a faithful heart, her pride is suffering;

And soul by soul and silently her shining bounds increase,

And her ways are ways of gentleness, and all her paths are peace.

Willis Jefferson Polk was born in Jacksonville, Illinois in 1867 and although it has been said that he had seven siblings, most died before they reached adolescence. In his lifetime, Willis would know only two sisters, Endemial and Daisy and one brother, Daniel.



From an account of the American architect's life on a site -- which Plep rightly calls "beautifully designed" -- devoted to Polk and his work. Certainly worth a visit, but here's an example of an exasperating usage, one that's become endemic to biographical writing and that's made a show like A&E's Biography often a chore to watch. As if the riches of the English language in her sequence of verb tenses provided no alternative, the auxiliary "would" has been dragooned into the service of creating some spurious "future-in-the-past" construction. Like hip-huggers on a matron, it's unreasonable, unnecessary, indecorous and ugly. Let it cease.

Have you been disheartened yet today?



A large percentage of Americans believe the Bible, Quran and the Book of Mormon are equal expressions of the same spiritual truth, according to a recent survey by pollster George Barna.



A story from the Associated Baptist Press on the poll results is in the Maranatha Christian Journal. Link from Jason Steffens at Antioch Road.

..... an appreciation of beauty is not optional for the Christian. Pursuing beauty is as mandatory as the pursuit of truth and goodness, which is why aesthetics has historically been considered a branch of moral theology.



St. Augustine, Thomas Aquinas, and C. S. Lewis all wrote that beauty, like truth and goodness, has its origin in who God is, in His very nature. Aquinas said that beauty "participates in the divine brightness." Beauty gives us a glimpse of God’s integrity, perfection, and majesty. Beauty points to the order and intelligence that sustains the universe.



Charles Colson, in his essay Slothfully Tacky: The Scandal of Christian Merchandise

Richard Storrs Willis, graduate of Chauncey Hall, Boston Latin School, and Yale University, friend of Felix Mendelssohn, was born in Boston on this date in 1819. Some of his music is deeply familiar to you: It Came Upon The Midnight Clear is set to his composition "Carol."



Willis is also familiar in his arrangement of a Silesian folk melody under the title of "Crusader's Hymn." That setting is used as the music for Fairest Lord Jesus.



Fairest Lord Jesus, Ruler of all nature,

O Thou of God and man the Son,

Thee will I cherish, Thee will I honor,

Thou, my soul’s glory, joy and crown.



Fair are the meadows, fairer still the woodlands,

Robed in the blooming garb of spring;

Jesus is fairer, Jesus is purer,

Who makes the woeful heart to sing.



Fair is the sunshine,

Fairer still the moonlight,

And all the twinkling starry host;

Jesus shines brighter, Jesus shines purer

Than all the angels heaven can boast.



All fairest beauty, heavenly and earthly,

Wondrously, Jesus, is found in Thee;

None can be nearer, fairer or dearer,

Than Thou, my Savior, art to me.



Beautiful Savior! Lord of all the nations!

Son of God and Son of Man!

Glory and honor, praise, adoration,

Now and forever more be Thine.



Among the most beautiful renditions of the hymn available on recording is by Leontyne Price, one of the great voices of the century, who was also born on this date, in 1927 in Laurel, Mississippi. I've paid brief tribute to this great artist before, but it will never be to the extent of the debt.

Here's a remarkable and thought-provoking exhibit at Cornell University:



Paper, Leather, Clay & Stone: The Written Word Materialized



I'll be spending more time in it and offer many thanks to Languagehat for guiding me there.

O God who names the starry host

and by whose love not one is lost,

who stretched thy arms wide to the sky

from cross to heav'n so death would die

Oh care for those who traversed space,

Embrace them now who touch thy face.



Text of the verse written by Rev. Vincent Uher, retired priest of the Episcopal Church, in memory of the astronauts who died in the loss of Columbia. Additional to The Navy Hymn, Eternal Father, Strong To Save.



There is extended coverage of the astronauts and their faith, with links to the services at their home churches and the meditations of their pastors, here: Seven Heroes, Seven Faiths. Many thanks to Orrin Judd for the link.

My fault is past. But, O, what form of prayer

Can serve my turn? 'Forgive me my foul murder'?

That cannot be; since I am still possess'd

Of those effects for which I did the murder,

My crown, mine own ambition and my queen.

May one be pardon'd and retain the offence?



The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, Act III, Scene 3