Philip Paul Bliss, who was born in Clearfield, Pennsylvania in 1838, died, with his wife, in tragic circumstances when the bridge at Ashtabula, Ohio collapsed under their train on this date in 1876. Bliss survived the first horrific impact, but died while trying to save his wife, who was trapped with scores of others in the wreckage of the passenger cars.
Bliss's music is now better known than his name and life, and he's perhaps best remembered as the author of the music Ville de Havre for Horatio Spafford's great hymn of assurance and hope It Is Well With My Soul.
A cenotaph was dedicated to the memory of Philip Paul Bliss and his wife in the cemetery at Rome, Pennsylvania on July 17, 1877 and their home there is now the site of the Gospel Songwriters Museum.
Here are the words, and a link to the music, of Bliss's hymn on the text of Hebrews 12:14: Without holiness no one will see the Lord.
More Holiness Give Me
More holiness give me, more strivings within.
More patience in suffering, more sorrow for sin.
More faith in my Savior, more sense of His care.
More joy in His service, more purpose in prayer.
More gratitude give me, more trust in the Lord.
More zeal for His glory, more hope in His Word.
More tears for His sorrows, more pain at His grief.
More meekness in trial, more praise for relief.
More purity give me, more strength to o’ercome,
More freedom from earth-stains, more longings for home.
More fit for the kingdom, more useful I’d be,
More blessèd and holy, more, Savior, like Thee.
Monday, December 29, 2003
Today is the memorial of St. Thomas of Canterbury. Here is an account of Thomas Becket's martyrdom on this date in 1170, taken from History of the Archbishops of Canterbury by Gervase of Canterbury.
But on the fifth day of the nativity, which was the third day of the week, there arrived four courtiers, who desired to speak with the archbishop, thinking by this to discover the weak points [of the monastery]. These were Reginald Fitz-Urse, Hugh de Morville, William de Traci, and Richard Brito. After a long discussion, they began to employ threats; and at length rising up hastily, they went out into the courtyard; and under the spreading branches of a mulberry-tree, they cast off the garments with which they had covered their breastplates, and, accompanied by those persons whom they bad summoned from the province, they returned into the archbishop’s palace. Yet he, unmoved by the exhortations, the prayers, and the tears of his followers, remained firm in his place, until the time had arrived for the performance of the evening service in the church; towards which he advanced with a slow and deliberate step, like one who of his own free-will prepares himself for death. Having entered the church, he paused at the threshold; and he asked his attendants of what they were afraid. When the clerks began to fall into disorder, be said, “Depart, ye cowards! Let these blind madmen go on in their career. We command you, in virtue of your obedience, not to shut the door.”
While he was thus speaking, behold! the executioners having ransacked the bishop’s palace, rushed together through the cloisters; three of whom carried hatchets in their left bands, and one an axe or a two-edged glaive, while all of them brandished drawn swords in their right hands. But after they had rushed through the open door, they separated from each other, Fitz-Urse turning to the left, while the three others took to the right. The archbishop had already ascended a few steps, when Fitz-Urse, as he hurried onwards, asked one whom he met, “Where is the archbishop?” Hearing this, he turned round on the step, and, with a slight motion of the head, he was the first to answer, “Here am I, Reginald. I have conferred many a benefit on you, Reginald; and do you now come to me with arms in your hands?” “You shall soon find that out,” was the reply. “Are not you that notorious traitor to the king?” And, laying hold on his pall, he said, “Depart hence;” and he struck the pall with his sword. The archbishop replied, “I am no traitor; nor will I depart, wretched man!” and he plucked the fringe of his pall from out the knight’s hand. The other repeated the words, “Flee hence!” The reply was, “ I will not flee; here your malice shall be satisfied.” At these words the assassin stepped back, as if smitten by a blow. In the meantime the other three assailants had arrived; and they exclaimed, “ Now you shall die!” “ If,” said the archbishop, “you seek my life, I forbid you, under the threat of an anathema, from touching any one of my followers. As for me, I willingly embrace death, provided only that the church obtain liberty and peace at the price of my blood.” When he had said these words, he stretched forth his head to the blows of the murderers. Fitz-Urse hastened forward, and with his whole strength lie planted a blow upon the extended head; and he cried out, as if in triumph over his conquered enemy, “Strike! strike!” Goaded on by the author of confusion, these butchers, adding wound to wound, dashed out his brains; and one of them, following up the martyr, (who at this time was either in the act of falling, or had already fallen) struck the pavement with his sword but the point of the weapon broke off short. They now returned through the cloister, crying out, “Knights of the king, let us go; he is dead!” And then they pillaged whatever they found in the archbishop’s residence. See here a wonder. While he was yet alive, and could speak, and stand on his feet, men called him a traitor to the king; but when he was laid low, with his brains dashed out, he was called the holy Thomas, even before the breath had left his body.
This blessed martyr suffered death in the ninth year of his patriarchate, on the fourth of the calends of January [29th Dec.], being the third day of the week, A.D. 1170, while the monks were singing their vespers. His dead body was removed and placed in the shrine before the altar of Christ. On the morrow it was carried by the monks and deposited in a tomb of marble within the crypt. Now, to speak the truth - that which I saw with my eyes, and handled with my hands - he wore hair-cloth next his skin, then stamin, over that a black cowl, then the white cowl in which he was consecrated; he also wore his tunic and dalmatic, his chasuble, pall, and miter; Lower down, he had drawers of sack-cloth, and over these others of linen; his socks were of wool, and he had on sandals. If any one (as he ought) desires to know more of this martyr, let him read those books or writers which I have mentioned above, namely, Herbert, John, William, Benedict, and Gervase: and let him not omit the letters of the same saint. Others there are who probably have written respecting him; but even if it be so, they cannot tell all that ought to be known about him.
After his martyrdom the church of Canterbury was vacant for two years and five months. That he is alive in Christ is proved by the miracles which are performed throughout the whole world.
But on the fifth day of the nativity, which was the third day of the week, there arrived four courtiers, who desired to speak with the archbishop, thinking by this to discover the weak points [of the monastery]. These were Reginald Fitz-Urse, Hugh de Morville, William de Traci, and Richard Brito. After a long discussion, they began to employ threats; and at length rising up hastily, they went out into the courtyard; and under the spreading branches of a mulberry-tree, they cast off the garments with which they had covered their breastplates, and, accompanied by those persons whom they bad summoned from the province, they returned into the archbishop’s palace. Yet he, unmoved by the exhortations, the prayers, and the tears of his followers, remained firm in his place, until the time had arrived for the performance of the evening service in the church; towards which he advanced with a slow and deliberate step, like one who of his own free-will prepares himself for death. Having entered the church, he paused at the threshold; and he asked his attendants of what they were afraid. When the clerks began to fall into disorder, be said, “Depart, ye cowards! Let these blind madmen go on in their career. We command you, in virtue of your obedience, not to shut the door.”
While he was thus speaking, behold! the executioners having ransacked the bishop’s palace, rushed together through the cloisters; three of whom carried hatchets in their left bands, and one an axe or a two-edged glaive, while all of them brandished drawn swords in their right hands. But after they had rushed through the open door, they separated from each other, Fitz-Urse turning to the left, while the three others took to the right. The archbishop had already ascended a few steps, when Fitz-Urse, as he hurried onwards, asked one whom he met, “Where is the archbishop?” Hearing this, he turned round on the step, and, with a slight motion of the head, he was the first to answer, “Here am I, Reginald. I have conferred many a benefit on you, Reginald; and do you now come to me with arms in your hands?” “You shall soon find that out,” was the reply. “Are not you that notorious traitor to the king?” And, laying hold on his pall, he said, “Depart hence;” and he struck the pall with his sword. The archbishop replied, “I am no traitor; nor will I depart, wretched man!” and he plucked the fringe of his pall from out the knight’s hand. The other repeated the words, “Flee hence!” The reply was, “ I will not flee; here your malice shall be satisfied.” At these words the assassin stepped back, as if smitten by a blow. In the meantime the other three assailants had arrived; and they exclaimed, “ Now you shall die!” “ If,” said the archbishop, “you seek my life, I forbid you, under the threat of an anathema, from touching any one of my followers. As for me, I willingly embrace death, provided only that the church obtain liberty and peace at the price of my blood.” When he had said these words, he stretched forth his head to the blows of the murderers. Fitz-Urse hastened forward, and with his whole strength lie planted a blow upon the extended head; and he cried out, as if in triumph over his conquered enemy, “Strike! strike!” Goaded on by the author of confusion, these butchers, adding wound to wound, dashed out his brains; and one of them, following up the martyr, (who at this time was either in the act of falling, or had already fallen) struck the pavement with his sword but the point of the weapon broke off short. They now returned through the cloister, crying out, “Knights of the king, let us go; he is dead!” And then they pillaged whatever they found in the archbishop’s residence. See here a wonder. While he was yet alive, and could speak, and stand on his feet, men called him a traitor to the king; but when he was laid low, with his brains dashed out, he was called the holy Thomas, even before the breath had left his body.
This blessed martyr suffered death in the ninth year of his patriarchate, on the fourth of the calends of January [29th Dec.], being the third day of the week, A.D. 1170, while the monks were singing their vespers. His dead body was removed and placed in the shrine before the altar of Christ. On the morrow it was carried by the monks and deposited in a tomb of marble within the crypt. Now, to speak the truth - that which I saw with my eyes, and handled with my hands - he wore hair-cloth next his skin, then stamin, over that a black cowl, then the white cowl in which he was consecrated; he also wore his tunic and dalmatic, his chasuble, pall, and miter; Lower down, he had drawers of sack-cloth, and over these others of linen; his socks were of wool, and he had on sandals. If any one (as he ought) desires to know more of this martyr, let him read those books or writers which I have mentioned above, namely, Herbert, John, William, Benedict, and Gervase: and let him not omit the letters of the same saint. Others there are who probably have written respecting him; but even if it be so, they cannot tell all that ought to be known about him.
After his martyrdom the church of Canterbury was vacant for two years and five months. That he is alive in Christ is proved by the miracles which are performed throughout the whole world.
Tuesday, December 23, 2003
Warm best wishes to all in this season of hope and promise. May the blessings of this holy Christmas remain with us through a New Year of peace and dedication, and may we be renewed and fulfilled in the way of our Lord Jesus Christ, whose three-fold birth -- in time, in eternity, and in the hearts of men -- we celebrate with such sublime joy.
Friday, December 19, 2003
A funeral Mass last evening. Those occasions are coming more frequently, as the parents of my friends and contemporaries are gathered to their inheritance in the Lord Jesus Christ.
Among the hymns and anthems during the beautiful Mass were the words of Richard Proulx, sung to Thaxted, the name of the hymn setting taken from the Jupiter section of The Planets by Gustav Holst, the music which is also used for the noble I Vow To Thee, My Country by Cecil Spring-Rice.
Here the words are appropriately those of acceptance, assurance, remembrance and the praise of the living God.
O God Beyond All Praising
O God, beyond all praising,
we worship you today
and sing the love amazing
that songs cannot repay;
for we can only wonder
at ev’ry gift you send,
at blessings without number
and mercies without end:
we lift our hearts before you
and wait upon your word;
we honor and adore you,
our great and mighty Lord .
The flow’r of earthly splendor
in time must surely die,
its fragile bloom surrender
to you, the Lord most high;
but hidden from all nature
the eternal seed is sown—
though small in mortal stature,
to heaven’s garden grown:
for Christ the man from heaven
from death has set us free,
and we through him are given
the final victory.
Then hear, O gracious Savior,
accept the love we bring,
that we who know your favor
may serve you as our King;
and whether our tomorrows
be filled with good or ill,
we'll triumph through our sorrows
and rise to bless you still:
to marvel at your beauty
and glory in your ways,
and make a joyful duty
our sacrifice of praise.
Among the hymns and anthems during the beautiful Mass were the words of Richard Proulx, sung to Thaxted, the name of the hymn setting taken from the Jupiter section of The Planets by Gustav Holst, the music which is also used for the noble I Vow To Thee, My Country by Cecil Spring-Rice.
Here the words are appropriately those of acceptance, assurance, remembrance and the praise of the living God.
O God Beyond All Praising
O God, beyond all praising,
we worship you today
and sing the love amazing
that songs cannot repay;
for we can only wonder
at ev’ry gift you send,
at blessings without number
and mercies without end:
we lift our hearts before you
and wait upon your word;
we honor and adore you,
our great and mighty Lord .
The flow’r of earthly splendor
in time must surely die,
its fragile bloom surrender
to you, the Lord most high;
but hidden from all nature
the eternal seed is sown—
though small in mortal stature,
to heaven’s garden grown:
for Christ the man from heaven
from death has set us free,
and we through him are given
the final victory.
Then hear, O gracious Savior,
accept the love we bring,
that we who know your favor
may serve you as our King;
and whether our tomorrows
be filled with good or ill,
we'll triumph through our sorrows
and rise to bless you still:
to marvel at your beauty
and glory in your ways,
and make a joyful duty
our sacrifice of praise.
Flying holds no particular terrors for me, but otherwise my reaction to great heights doesn't show me to advantage, and I'm not at my best on bridges. I wrote in June about a cruise on the Delaware River and about passing beneath the Benjamin Franklin Bridge hundreds of feet above; last evening, I was on the light rail system that runs along the side of that hundreds-of-feet-above bridge. Oh, the view is good, undeniably. But not quite good enough to conquer the trepidant tingling of my legs and chest during the time it took to cross the river.
Tuesday, December 16, 2003
John Ellerton, graduate of Trinity College, Anglican vicar during the high noon of Victorian England, author of some fine hymns and a contributor to the standard compilation Hymns Ancient and Modern, was born in England on this date in 1826.
Here is the text of his greatest hymn, sung to the very fine tune St. Clement of Clement Cotterill Scholefield, which Father Rutler has called a kind of cradle song for the cosmos.
The day Thou gavest, Lord, is ended,
The darkness falls at Thy behest;
To Thee our morning hymns ascended,
Thy praise shall sanctify our rest.
We thank Thee that Thy church, unsleeping,
While earth rolls onward into light,
Through all the world her watch is keeping,
And rests not now by day or night.
As o’er each continent and island
The dawn leads on another day,
The voice of prayer is never silent,
Nor dies the strain of praise away.
The sun that bids us rest is waking
Our brethren ’neath the western sky,
And hour by hour fresh lips are making
Thy wondrous doings heard on high.
So be it, Lord; Thy throne shall never,
Like earth’s proud empires, pass away:
Thy kingdom stands, and grows forever,
Till all Thy creatures own Thy sway.
Here is the text of his greatest hymn, sung to the very fine tune St. Clement of Clement Cotterill Scholefield, which Father Rutler has called a kind of cradle song for the cosmos.
The day Thou gavest, Lord, is ended,
The darkness falls at Thy behest;
To Thee our morning hymns ascended,
Thy praise shall sanctify our rest.
We thank Thee that Thy church, unsleeping,
While earth rolls onward into light,
Through all the world her watch is keeping,
And rests not now by day or night.
As o’er each continent and island
The dawn leads on another day,
The voice of prayer is never silent,
Nor dies the strain of praise away.
The sun that bids us rest is waking
Our brethren ’neath the western sky,
And hour by hour fresh lips are making
Thy wondrous doings heard on high.
So be it, Lord; Thy throne shall never,
Like earth’s proud empires, pass away:
Thy kingdom stands, and grows forever,
Till all Thy creatures own Thy sway.
Wednesday, December 10, 2003
Implications mathematical, theoretical, and philosophical, and much to delight the mind. But there's also something that simply gladdens the heart in seeing a milestone successfully reached through communal effort and shared commitment.
Mersenne Project Discovers Largest Known Prime Number
on World-Wide Volunteer Computer Grid
Number Found with 25,000 Years of Computer Time
ORLANDO, Florida - December 2, 2003 -- Michael Shafer, a 26 year-old volunteer in the Mersenne.org research project called the Great Internet Mersenne Prime Search (GIMPS), has discovered the largest known prime number. Shafer used a Michigan State University lab PC and free software by George Woltman and Scott Kurowski as part of an international grid of 211,000 networked computers in virtually every time zone of the world.
The new number, expressed as 2 to the 20,996,011th power minus 1, has 6,320,430 decimal digits and was discovered November 17th. It is more than two million digits larger than the previous largest known prime number, and belongs to a special class of rare prime numbers called Mersenne primes . The discovery marks only the 40th known Mersenne prime, named after Marin Mersenne, a 17th century French monk who first studied the numbers 300 years ago.
Mersenne Project Discovers Largest Known Prime Number
on World-Wide Volunteer Computer Grid
Number Found with 25,000 Years of Computer Time
ORLANDO, Florida - December 2, 2003 -- Michael Shafer, a 26 year-old volunteer in the Mersenne.org research project called the Great Internet Mersenne Prime Search (GIMPS), has discovered the largest known prime number. Shafer used a Michigan State University lab PC and free software by George Woltman and Scott Kurowski as part of an international grid of 211,000 networked computers in virtually every time zone of the world.
The new number, expressed as 2 to the 20,996,011th power minus 1, has 6,320,430 decimal digits and was discovered November 17th. It is more than two million digits larger than the previous largest known prime number, and belongs to a special class of rare prime numbers called Mersenne primes . The discovery marks only the 40th known Mersenne prime, named after Marin Mersenne, a 17th century French monk who first studied the numbers 300 years ago.
Charm with your stainlessness these winter nights,
Skies, and be perfect! Fly vivider in the fiery dark, you quiet meteors,
And disappear.
You moon, be slow to go down,
This is your full!
The four white roads make off in silence
Towards the four parts of the starry universe.
Time falls like manna at the corners of the wintry earth.
We have become more humble than the rocks,
More wakeful than the patient hills.
Charm with your stainlessness these nights in Advent,
holy spheres,
While minds, as meek as beasts,
Stay close at home in the sweet hay;
And intellects are quieter than the flocks that feed by starlight.
Oh pour your darkness and your brightness over all our
solemn valleys,
You skies: and travel like the gentle Virgin,
Toward the planets' stately setting,
Oh white full moon as quiet as Bethlehem!
Thomas Merton, Advent.
Thomas Merton died in Bangkok on this date in 1968 at the age of 53.
Today is also the anniversary of the beginning of Merton's Trappist journey, his entrance in 1941 to the Abbey of Our Lady of Gethsemani.
Skies, and be perfect! Fly vivider in the fiery dark, you quiet meteors,
And disappear.
You moon, be slow to go down,
This is your full!
The four white roads make off in silence
Towards the four parts of the starry universe.
Time falls like manna at the corners of the wintry earth.
We have become more humble than the rocks,
More wakeful than the patient hills.
Charm with your stainlessness these nights in Advent,
holy spheres,
While minds, as meek as beasts,
Stay close at home in the sweet hay;
And intellects are quieter than the flocks that feed by starlight.
Oh pour your darkness and your brightness over all our
solemn valleys,
You skies: and travel like the gentle Virgin,
Toward the planets' stately setting,
Oh white full moon as quiet as Bethlehem!
Thomas Merton, Advent.
Thomas Merton died in Bangkok on this date in 1968 at the age of 53.
Today is also the anniversary of the beginning of Merton's Trappist journey, his entrance in 1941 to the Abbey of Our Lady of Gethsemani.
Monday, December 1, 2003
Kenneth, who writes so well and with such insight at A Mind That Suits, also posts occasionally on Christian spirituality at The Fullness of Him. And always to edification. It was very good to read his essay on the beginning of the Advent season, with a rich analogy illuminating the message that The Church Year is not just an exercise. It has a point.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)