Sometimes it’s the seemingly small stuff that can make the biggest difference. I've been down after my brother really hurt my feelings on Christmas Day but then tonight, celebrating his son’s 25th birthday with the whole family, everything turned around.
Best of all, my nephew, who is earning his doctorate in
nuclear engineering and has studied and worked now even in Japan and Livermore National Laboratory in California, took a peek
at my laptop and fixed several big issues, the biggest one being my camera. I
can’t tell you how many Zoom meetings, for one instance, I’ve attended with the
embarrassment of not having a working camera.
This past week I’ve been saddled with yet another cold. I was barely recovered from the last one that had me walking around for two weeks with a plugged-up ear and heavily impaired tastebuds. This current one is full of congestion and coughing, waking me up in the middle of the night with coughing fits, etc.
As an aside, we could all kill my brother to this day for telling me to drain case
after case of Hakriton cough syrup bottles after my dad died. My father knew it
was liquid gold with its codeine base and that’s why, as a doctor with a pharmaceutical
license, he stored so much of it in our basement before it was taken off the
market.
I remember it was like that scene from my favorite movie, African Queen, when Humphrey Bogart awoke on the boat to witness Katharine Hepburn draining all his bottles of gin into the river. Well, thank goodness for Robitussin DM!
*****
Just today, wanting to look up something after my memory was jogged during my church’s morning service online, I picked up my 1982 book on hymns, 101 Hymn Stories, and found this to make my heart grateful:
“The singing of hymns as we know it today was practically non-existent
in England and the United States from the beginning of the 16th
century Protestant Reformation until the dawn of the 18th century.
During this time congregational singing consisted almost entirely of versified
settings of the Psalms. The psalter used exclusively during this entire period
was the Sternhold-Hopkins Psalter, published in 1562. This is a portion
of Psalm One from that psalter:
The man is blest that hath not lent To wicked men his ear,
Nor led his life as sinners do, Nor sat in scorner’s chair.
He shall be like a tree that is Planted the rivers nigh,
Which in due season bringeth forth Its fruit abundantly.
Whose leaf shall never fade nor fail, But flourishing shall
stand. E’en so all things shall prosper well That this man takes in hand.
"Though the Sternhold-Hopkins Psalter was known for its
faithfulness to the original Hebrew, the crude, unpoetic character of its texts
became increasingly offensive to many congregations.
. . . Isaac Watts, was born on July 17, 1674, in Southampton,
England. Watts, the author of such great hymns as 'Am I a Soldier of the Cross' and 'When I Survey the Wondrous Cross,' was the son of an educated deacon in a
dissenting Congregational church. At the time of Isaac’s birth, his father was
in prison for his non-conformist beliefs.
"Young Watts showed an unusual aptitude for study and learned
Latin at the age of five, Greek at nine, French at eleven and Hebrew at thirteen.
He began to write verses of good quality when he was very young.
"Watts is frequently referred to as the father of English hymnody.
One of his early concerns was the deplorable state to which congregational
singing had degenerated in most English-speaking churches. The singing
consisted of slow, ponderous Psalms in which each line was first read by an
appointed deacon and was followed by the droning of the congregation. The texts
of these psalm-hymns were often crude and inelegant. Typical doggerel of the
time was this:
Ye monsters of the bubbling deep, your Master’s praises spout;
Up from the sands ye coddlings peep, and wag your tails about.
"Watts once wrote, 'The singing of God’s praise is the part of worship most closely related to heaven; but its performance among us is the worst on earth.'
"One Sunday after returning from a typically poor service,
Watts continued to rail against the congregational singing. His father exclaimed, 'Why don’t you give us something better, young man!' Before the evening service
began, young Isaac had written his first hymn, which was received with great
enthusiasm by the people.
"For a period of two years Watts wrote a new hymn every Sunday. He went on to write new metrical versions of the Psalms with a desire to 'Christianize the Psalms with the New Testament message and style.'
"Watts not only rewrote the Psalms in this way, but he also
wrote a number of hymns based solely on personal feelings. These hymns were known
as hymns of human composure. Such hymns were controversial during his lifetime. 'When I Survey the Wondrous Cross' is an example of this type of hymn. In all,
Watts composed more than 600 hymns."
1 When I survey the wondrous cross
on which the Prince of glory died,
my richest gain I count but loss,
and pour contempt on all my pride.
2 Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast
save in the death of Christ, my God!
All the vain things that charm me most,
I sacrifice them through his blood.
3 See, from his head, his hands, his feet,
sorrow and love flow mingled down.
Did e’er such love and sorrow meet,
or thorns compose so rich a crown?
4 Were the whole realm of nature mine,
that were a present far too small.
Love so amazing, so divine,
demands my soul, my life, my all.
Here are the lyrics to “Am I a Soldier of the Cross”:
- Am I a
soldier of the cross,
A follow’r of the Lamb?
And shall I fear to own His cause,
Or blush to speak His name? - Must I
be carried to the skies
On flow’ry beds of ease,
While others fought to win the prize,
And sailed through bloody seas? - Are
there no foes for me to face?
Must I not stem the flood?
Is this vile world a friend to grace,
To help me on to God? - Sure I
must fight if I would reign;
Increase my courage, Lord;
I’ll bear the toil, endure the pain,
Supported by Thy Word. - Thy
saints in all this glorious war
Shall conquer, though they die;
They see the triumph from afar,
By faith’s discerning eye. - When
that illustrious day shall rise,
And all Thy armies shine
In robes of vict’ry through the skies,
The glory shall be Thine.
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