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Posts Tagged ‘1819’

Spirit of God, descend upon my heart;
Wean it from earth; through all its pulses move;
Stoop to my weakness, mighty as Thou art;
And make me love Thee as I ought to love.

I ask no dream, no prophet ecstasies,
No sudden rending of the veil of clay,
No angel visitant, no opening skies;
But take the dimness of my soul away.

Teach me to feel that Thou art always nigh;
Teach me the struggles of the soul to bear.
To check the rising doubt, the rebel sigh,
Teach me the patience of unanswered prayer.

Hast Thou not bid me love Thee, God and King?
All, all Thine own, soul, heart and strength and mind.
I see Thy cross; there teach my heart to cling:
O let me seek Thee, and O let me find!

Teach me to love Thee as Thine angels love,
One holy passion filling all my frame;
The kindling of the heaven descended Dove,
My heart an altar, and Thy love the flame.

George Croly was born this date 8/17/1780 at Dub­lin, Ire­land.  He grad­uated from Dub­lin Un­i­ver­si­ty with an MA 1804 and took ho­ly or­ders.  He worked in Ire­land un­til about 1810 when he moved to Lon­don and de­vot­ed him­self to literature.  In 1819 he married Margaret Helen Begbie.  1831 saw him receive the LLD from Dub­lin Un­i­ver­si­ty.  In 1835, he be­came as­so­ci­at­ed with St. Ste­phen’s, Wal­brook, and St. Be­net Shere­hog.  He produced num­er­ous prose works in ad­di­tion to con­tri­bu­tions to Black­wood’s Mag­a­zine.  Croly penned at least six other songs before his death (11/24/1860) at Hol­born, Eng­land.

His “Spirit of God, Descend Upon My Heart” (1854) is remembered more than his various biographical, historical, and religious writings.  Oh, how a man’s fame can rest on one poem even one line.

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“Once to Every Man and Nation”

 

Once to every man and nation, comes the moment to decide,
In the strife of truth with falsehood, for the good or evil side;
Some great cause, some great decision, offering each the bloom or blight,
And the choice goes by forever, ’twixt that darkness and that light.

 

Then to side with truth is noble, when we share her wretched crust,
Ere her cause bring fame and profit, and ’tis prosperous to be just;
Then it is the brave man chooses while the coward stands aside,
Till the multitude make virtue of the faith they had denied.

 

By the light of burning martyrs, Christ, Thy bleeding feet we track,
Toiling up new Calv’ries ever with the cross that turns not back;
New occasions teach new duties, time makes ancient good uncouth,
They must upward still and onward, who would keep abreast of truth.

 

Though the cause of evil prosper, yet the truth alone is strong;
Though her portion be the scaffold, and upon the throne be wrong;
Yet that scaffold sways the future, and behind the dim unknown,
Standeth God within the shadow, keeping watch above His own.

James Russel Lowell was born this date (2/22/1819) in Cambridge, MA.  Lowell wrote this poem (one of this many poems) as protest to America’s war with Mexico.

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“Jesus I Come”

Out of my bondage, sorrow, and night,
Jesus, I come, Jesus, I come;
Into Thy freedom, gladness, and light,
Jesus, I come to Thee;
Out of my sickness, into Thy health,
Out of my want and into Thy wealth,
Out of my sin and into Thyself,
Jesus, I come to Thee.

Out of my shameful failure and loss,
Jesus, I come, Jesus, I come;
Into the glorious gain of Thy cross,
Jesus, I come to Thee.
Out of earth’s sorrows into Thy balm,
Out of life’s storms and into Thy calm,
Out of distress to jubilant psalm,
Jesus, I come to Thee.

Out of unrest and arrogant pride,
Jesus, I come, Jesus, I come;
Into Thy blessèd will to abide,
Jesus, I come to Thee.
Out of myself to dwell in Thy love,
Out of despair into raptures above,
Upward for aye on wings like a dove,
Jesus, I come to Thee.

Out of the fear and dread of the tomb,
Jesus, I come, Jesus, I come;
Into the joy and light of Thy throne,
Jesus, I come to Thee.
Out of the depths of ruin untold,
Into the peace of Thy sheltering fold,
Ever Thy glorious face to behold,
Jesus, I come to Thee.

William True Sleeper was born this date (2/9/09) in Danbury, NH.  He pastored the Congregational Church in Worcester, MA for 30 years.  Sleeper also wrote “ Ye Must Be Born Again.”  He passed from this life in 1904.

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