Jesus, Master, Whose I Am

Frances Havergal is very likely one of the most remarkable women I have ever read about. I read a mini-biography about her in a book titled Well With My Soul a couple of years ago. Her attitude towards worship and her almost-feisty passion for the glory of God has left a lasting impression on me. She was very smart, learning Hebrew, Greek and Latin at a very young age and memorizing Psalms, Isaiah, and most of the New Testament. When she was seven she composed her first poem:

Sunday is a pleasant day,
When we to church do go;
For there we sing and read and pray,
And hear the sermon too.

On Sunday hear the village bells;
It seems as if they said,
Go to the church where the pastor tells
How Christ for man has bled.

And if we love to pray and read
While we are in our youth,
The Lord will help us in our need
And keep us in His truth.

It is remarkable to me that this poem came out of a seven year old. She suffered many physical ailments throughout the course of her life, dying in 1879 at age 42. Her most well known hymn is "Take My Life and Let It Be."

The following hymn she wrote for her nephew.

Jesus, Master, Whose I Am
Text: Frances R. Havergal
Music: Jeremiah F. Ohl

Jesus, Master Whose I Am
Purchased Thine alone to be,
By Thy blood, O spotless Lamb,
Shed so willingly for me,
Let my heart be all Thine own,
Let me live for Thee alone.

Other lords have long held sway;
Now Thy Name alone to bear,
Thy dear voice alone obey,
Is my daily, hourly prayer;
Whom have I in heaven but Thee?
Nothing else my joy can be.

Jesus, Master, whom I serve,
Though so feebly and so ill,
Strengthen hand and heart and nerve
All Thy bidding to fulfill;
Open Thou mine eyes to see
All the work Thou hast for me.

Lord, Thou needest not, I know,
Service such as I can bring,
Yet I long to prove and show
Full allegiance to my King.
Jesus, let me always be
In Thy service glad and free.

Jesus, Master, I am Thine;
Keep me faithful, keep me near;
Let Thy presence in me shine
All my homeward way to cheer,
Jesus, at Thy feet I fall,
O be Thou my all in all.

The Last Installment of: The Adventures of Melanie Marie (A Garden Gnome)

Anyhow, Melanie Marie continued to the garden where she met up with the young and handsome prince of the humions who would be informing her of her first job.

"I am very confused,"Melanie Marie tried to convince the prince so that he would not remember to give her a job, "But I think I was supposed to meet you here."

"Yes you were, and unfortunately for you, your emotions are not contagious to me, because I am of royal blood. But Melanie, may I call you that? Melanie, I cannot find it in my heart to make our servant. You see, my dearest, I am in love with you. I know I am a humion and that you are a gnome, but we could elope and start our own race. That would be so romantic."

"Um, maybe I missed it, but what was your name again? And until breakfast I had never even met you, how could you possibly love me?"

"Oh, I am a fool, I poured out my heart to you before I had even introduced myself," he said bending down on one knee, "Will you marry me?"

"WHAT?!" she exclaimed, "You still haven't even told me your name! And you are freaking me out, I am going to leave!"

"My dearest, was that a yes? Oh you have made me the happiest humion ever! Let us go at once to the chapel!"

"That was a no! I can't marry you! I don't even know your name! I am going to leave! Goodbye!" She yelled as she ran out of the garden.

Normally the prince would have followed her, but he was so heartbroken that he fell on the ground and began hallucinating images of the life he would never have with Melanie Marie.

As she ran through the city gates, a sudden blanket of guilt rushed over her. Had she too quickly left a place where she was treated so generously? Was the prince really in love with her? And if he was, did her rude words pulverize any sense of manly pride he had, to the point where he would never be able to rule his kingdom of humions? Somewhat regretfully she kept pushing forward, one step at a time. She decided that nothing was worth becoming a servant, and so she never looked back.

It was soon nightfall, and she was glad to be alone and free once again. The stars sparkled and the trees sang, the wind blew her hair gracefully back into the cool night air. She began to sing with the trees and dance with the wind; she turned about in circles filled with a bubbling joy she never thought was possible to experience. It was like all of a sudden her whole being was at peace...slowly she began to drift off into an ever so peaceful sleep.


The End.

There is a Fountain

Well, it's Thursday once again. This week Hannah Dyk requested the hymn I will post. It was written by a man named William Cowper, who spent most of his life with physical and mental ailments which caused him a great amount of pain. He was taken in by John Newton (the former slave-trader who wrote Amazing Grace) who gave him work he could accomplish despite his illnesses. He built for Cowper a study garden where he could be alone and enjoy nature and write poems. Newton encouraged Cowper to write hymns for weekly prayer meetings. Together they wrote the Olney book of hymns. This hymn, There is a Fountain, is Cowper's most well known. If you want to read more about William Cowper, click here (it's where I got this info).

There is a Fountain
Text: William Cowper
Music: Lowell Mason

There is a fountain filled with blood
Drawn from Immanuel's veins,
And sinners plunged beneath that flood
Lose all their guilty stains:
Lose all their guilty stains,
Lose all their guilty stains;
And sinners plunged beneath that flood
Lose all their guilty stains.

The dying thief rejoiced to see
That fountain in his day,
And there may I, though vile as he,
Wash all my sins away:
Wash all my sins away,
Wash all my sins away;
And there may I, though vile as he,
Wash all my sins away.

Dear dying Lamb, Thy precious blood
Shall never lose its pow'r
Till all the ransomed Church of God
Be saved to sin no more:
Be saved to sin no more,
Be saved to sin no more;
Till all the ransomed Church of God
Be saved to sin no more.

E'er since by faith I saw the stream
Thy flowing wounds supply,
Redeeming love has been my theme
And shall be till I die:
And shall be till I die,
And shall be till I die;
Redeeming love has been my theme
And shall be till I die.

When this poor lisping, stamm'ring tongue
Lies silent in the grave,
Then in a nobler, sweeter song
I'll sing Thy pow'r to save:
I'll sing Thy pow'r to save,
I'll sing Thy pow'r to save;
And in a nobler, sweeter song
I'll sing Thy pow'r to save.

Hymn of the Week

This week, I have chosen to post Caleb's favorite Christmas song, "Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing."

Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing
Text: Robert Robinson (1735-1790)
Music: Wyeth's Repository of Sacred Music, Part Second

Come, thou Fount of every blessing,
tune my heart to sing thy grace;
Streams of mercy, never ceasing,
call for songs of loudest praise.
Teach me some melodious sonnet,
sung by flaming tongues above.
Praise the mount! I'm fixed upon it,
mount of Thy redeeming love.

Here I raise mine Ebenezer; 
hither by thy help I'm come; 
and I hope, by thy good pleasure, 
safely to arrive at home. 
Jesus sought me when a stranger, 
wandering from the fold of God; 
he, to rescue me from danger, 
interposed his precious blood. 

O to grace how great a debtor
daily I'm constrained to be! 
Let thy goodness, like a fetter, 
bind my wandering heart to thee. 
Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it, 
prone to leave the God I love; 
here's my heart, O take and seal it, 
seal it for thy courts above. 

According to Songsandhymns.org, it was common during this time period for ministers to write a song poem to sing/recite at the end of their sermon. Robert Robinson wrote this hymn for that reason when he was 23.

Modesty of the heart...

Here is an interesting blog about modesty of the spirit. It's geared towards single women, but I think it's helpful for all of us. It is still important for us not-so-single women to use modesty and discretion. For men, it is important to understand when to "not allow" a woman to share too much information with you - for the sake of guarding her heart and your own.

Hymn of the Week

I really like hymns and I think that they offer lots of wisdom. So, I have decided to start posting a hymn every Thursday. I picked the following hymn because Easter is this weekend and I think it fits nicely. I have always thought this hymn paints a vivid picture of Christ on the cross. It's quite a lengthy one, but it just doesn't feel right to edit out some of the verses simply because it's long.

O Sacred Head Now Wounded
Text: Anonymous; Translation: Paul Gerhardt and James W. Alexander
Music: Hans L. Hassler

O sacred Head, now wounded, with grief and shame weighed down,
Now scornfully surrounded with thorns, Thine only crown;
How pale Thou art with anguish, with sore abuse and scorn!
How does that visage languish, which once was bright as morn!

What Thou, my Lord, hast suffered, was all for sinners’ gain;
Mine, mine was the transgression, but Thine the deadly pain.
Lo, here I fall, my Savior! ’Tis I deserve Thy place;
Look on me with Thy favor, vouchsafe to me Thy grace.

Men mock and taunt and jeer Thee, Thou noble countenance,
Though mighty worlds shall fear Thee and flee before Thy glance.
How art thou pale with anguish, with sore abuse and scorn!
How doth Thy visage languish that once was bright as morn!

Now from Thy cheeks has vanished their color once so fair;
From Thy red lips is banished the splendor that was there.
Grim death, with cruel rigor, hath robbed Thee of Thy life;
Thus Thou hast lost Thy vigor, Thy strength in this sad strife.

My burden in Thy Passion, Lord, Thou hast borne for me,
For it was my transgression which brought this woe on Thee.
I cast me down before Thee, wrath were my rightful lot;
Have mercy, I implore Thee; Redeemer, spurn me not!

What language shall I borrow to thank Thee, dearest friend,
For this Thy dying sorrow, Thy pity without end?
O make me Thine forever, and should I fainting be,
Lord, let me never, never outlive my love to Thee.

My Shepherd, now receive me; my Guardian, own me Thine.
Great blessings Thou didst give me, O source of gifts divine.
Thy lips have often fed me with words of truth and love;
Thy Spirit oft hath led me to heavenly joys above.

Here I will stand beside Thee, from Thee I will not part;
O Savior, do not chide me! When breaks Thy loving heart,
When soul and body languish in death’s cold, cruel grasp,
Then, in Thy deepest anguish, Thee in mine arms I’ll clasp.

The joy can never be spoken, above all joys beside,
When in Thy body broken I thus with safety hide.
O Lord of Life, desiring Thy glory now to see,
Beside Thy cross expiring, I’d breathe my soul to Thee.

My Savior, be Thou near me when death is at my door;
Then let Thy presence cheer me, forsake me nevermore!
When soul and body languish, oh, leave me not alone,
But take away mine anguish by virtue of Thine own!

Be Thou my consolation, my shield when I must die;
Remind me of Thy passion when my last hour draws nigh.
Mine eyes shall then behold Thee, upon Thy cross shall dwell,
My heart by faith enfolds Thee. Who dieth thus dies well.

The Adventures of Melanie Marie (A Garden Gnome)...Part 5

When she woke up she was laying in the most beautiful and graceful room she had ever seen, lined with a golden rim around the ceiling. The bed was made with silk sheets and pillow cases and a down-feather comforter. It was so comfortable she felt at one with the bed. There was an assortment of clothes laid out for her choosing, and a mirror that took up an entire wall! The silk drapes we drawn and the sun was shining brightly through the windows. Birds were chirping and she could smell a glorious breakfast being prepared.

As she hurried into her clothes there was a knock at the door.

"One moment!" she called scrambling to the door.

"Take your time, dearie, I just wanted to let you know breakfast will be served as soon as you are ready to eat!" an informing, yet gentle, older woman's voice came.

She felt overcome with kindness and warm hospitality, so much so that the guilt that haunted the back of her mind for leaving her sister was forgotten. She strolled to the breakfast table where she was presented with a feast of everything she ever dreamed of for breakfast.

The table seemed to glow, as the kindly old humion woman served her, as if she were royalty. She ate until she thought she could not possibly eat ever again.

"This meal was so very wonderful! Thank you for fixing it for me, Aeona!" Melanie Marie exclaimed with gratitude. She made sure to thank the sweet humion who had opened her home to her and fed her this meal fit for a queen.

"Oh it's nothing compared to what you will do for us," Aeona replied.

"I don't understand," Melanie Marie said, as a look of confusion spread over her face. She had no idea what to expect.

"Soon you will, child," came a man's voice from behind her,"When your meal is done please meet me in the garden."

Melanie Marie was very confused. All this time she had thought she was going to enjoy the humions hospitality, while actually they were giving her all these things so that she would be afraid to live without them. That way, when they made her start working, she would not want to leave. But, as you know, her emotions were contagious to the humions, and since she was so awfully confused, so were the humions.

I am sure that if you were there would have been on the floor laughing with energetic glee. Everywhere Melanie looked she saw messes upon messes. One room was extremely confused. Instead of mopping the floor, they were trying to mop the ceiling. Now that in itself is not very funny, but since they were mopping with melted marshmellows, and the goo and stick was dripping all over them, their manes got all stuck together. It was quite a humorous site.

To Be Continued...