Monday, July 2, 2012

Pie jesu

Admonished not to degenerate from his ancestors

"Remove not the ancient landmark, which thy fathers have set."-Proverbs 22:28  

"Calling to remembrance that unfeigned faith Not so much for the purpose of applauding as of exhorting Timothy, the Apostle commends both his own faith and that of his grandmother and mother; for, when one has begun well and valiantly, the progress he has made should encourage him to advance, and domestic examples are powerful excitements to urge him forward. Accordingly, he sets before him his grandmother Lois and his mother Eunice by whom he had been educated from his infancy in such a manner that he might have sucked godliness along with his milk. By this godly education, therefore, Timothy is admonished not to degenerate from himself and from his ancestors."1-John Calvin

Saturday, June 30, 2012

The Lady Of Shalott

The Lady of Shalott
by Alfred, Lord Tennyson
	     Part I.

On either side the river lie
Long fields of barley and of rye,
That clothe the wold and meet the sky;
And thro' the field the road runs by
	  To many-tower'd Camelot;
And up and down the people go,
Gazing where the lilies blow
Round an island there below,
	  The island of Shalott.

Willows whiten, aspens quiver,
Little breezes dusk and shiver
Thro' the wave that runs for ever
By the island in the river
	  Flowing down to Camelot.
Four gray walls, and four gray towers,
Overlook a space of flowers,
And the silent isle imbowers
	  The Lady of Shalott.

By the margin, willow-veil'd
Slide the heavy barges trail'd
By slow horses; and unhail'd
The shallop flitteth silken-sail'd
	  Skimming down to Camelot:
But who hath seen her wave her hand?
Or at the casement seen her stand?
Or is she known in all the land,
	  The Lady of Shalott?

Only reapers, reaping early
In among the bearded barley,
Hear a song that echoes cheerly
From the river winding clearly,
	  Down to tower'd Camelot:
And by the moon the reaper weary,
Piling sheaves in uplands airy,
Listening, whispers "'Tis the fairy
	  Lady of Shalott."

	     Part II.

There she weaves by night and day
A magic web with colours gay.
She has heard a whisper say,
A curse is on her if she stay
	  To look down to Camelot.
She knows not what the curse may be,
And so she weaveth steadily,
And little other care hath she,
	  The Lady of Shalott.

And moving thro' a mirror clear
That hangs before her all the year,
Shadows of the world appear.
There she sees the highway near
	  Winding down to Camelot:
There the river eddy whirls,
And there the surly village-churls,
And the red cloaks of market girls,
	  Pass onward from Shalott.

Sometimes a troop of damsels glad,
An abbot on an ambling pad,
Sometimes a curly shepherd-lad,
Or long-hair'd page in crimson clad,
	  Goes by to tower'd Camelot;
And sometimes thro' the mirror blue
The knights come riding two and two:
She hath no loyal knight and true,
	  The Lady of Shalott.

But in her web she still delights
To weave the mirror's magic sights,
For often thro' the silent nights
A funeral, with plumes and lights
	  And music, went to Camelot:
Or when the moon was overhead,
Came two young lovers lately wed;
"I am half-sick of shadows," said
	  The Lady of Shalott.

	     Part III.

A bow-shot from her bower-eaves,
He rode between the barley-sheaves,
The sun came dazzling thro' the leaves,
And flamed upon the brazen greaves
	  Of bold Sir Lancelot.
A redcross knight for ever kneel'd
To a lady in his shield,
That sparkled on the yellow field,
	  Beside remote Shalott.

The gemmy bridle glitter'd free,
Like to some branch of stars we see
Hung in the golden Galaxy.
The bridle-bells rang merrily
	  As he rode down to Camelot:
And from his blazon'd baldric slung
A mighty silver bugle hung,
And as he rode his armour rung,
	  Beside remote Shalott.

All in the blue unclouded weather
Thick-jewell'd shone the saddle-leather,
The helmet and the helmet-feather
Burn'd like one burning flame together,
	  As he rode down to Camelot.
As often thro' the purple night,
Below the starry clusters bright,
Some bearded meteor, trailing light,
	  Moves over still Shalott.

His broad clear brow in sunlight glow'd;
On burnish'd hooves his war-horse trode;
From underneath his helmet flow'd
His coal-black curls as on he rode,
	  As he rode down to Camelot.
From the bank and from the river
He flash'd into the crystal mirror,
"Tirra lirra," by the river
	  Sang Sir Lancelot.

She left the web, she left the loom,
She made three paces thro' the room,
She saw the water-lily bloom,
She saw the helmet and the plume,
	  She look'd down to Camelot.
Out flew the web and floated wide;
The mirror crack'd from side to side;
"The curse is come upon me," cried
	  The Lady of Shalott.

	     Part IV.

In the stormy east-wind straining,
The pale-yellow woods were waning,
The broad stream in his banks complaining,
Heavily the low sky raining
	  Over tower'd Camelot;
Down she came and found a boat
Beneath a willow left afloat,
And round about the prow she wrote
	  The Lady of Shalott.

And down the river's dim expanse--
Like some bold seër in a trance,
Seeing all his own mischance--
With a glassy countenance
	  Did she look to Camelot.
And at the closing of the day
She loosed the chain, and down she lay;
The broad stream bore her far away,
	  The Lady of Shalott.

Lying, robed in snowy white
That loosely flew to left and right--
The leaves upon her falling light--
Thro' the noises of the night
	  She floated down to Camelot:
And as the boat-head wound along
The willowy hills and fields among,
They heard her singing her last song,
	  The Lady of Shalott.

Heard a carol, mournful, holy,
Chanted loudly, chanted lowly,
Till her blood was frozen slowly,
And her eyes were darken'd wholly,
	  Turn'd to tower'd Camelot;
For ere she reach'd upon the tide
The first house by the water-side,
Singing in her song she died,
	  The Lady of Shalott.

Under tower and balcony,
By garden-wall and gallery,
A gleaming shape she floated by,
A corse between the houses high,
	  Silent into Camelot.
Out upon the wharfs they came,
Knight and burgher, lord and dame,
And round the prow they read her name,
	  The Lady of Shalott.

Who is this? and what is here?
And in the lighted palace near
Died the sound of royal cheer;
And they cross'd themselves for fear,
	  All the knights at Camelot:
But Lancelot mused a little space;
He said, "She has a lovely face;
God in his mercy lend her grace,
	  The Lady of Shalott."

Sunday, April 29, 2012

I Know Who Holds Tomorrow


The picture is of a commercially available piece of furniture used in "childcare" centers, looking more like equipment made for a dog pound babies spend hours locked in these kennels every day. The average cost of "childcare" in the US is $12,000 per year, often costing more than college tuition. And these institutions have hight rates of disease than prisons. Sadly many working mothers are losing money when one on adds in the cost to the family. And negative on the children can't be calculated in terms of money.

Monday, April 9, 2012

Parlor Grand Music Box: Blue Danube Waltz

Thomas Kinkade

I will admit I have mixed feeling about quality of Thomas Kinkade's art, much of work is very pretty and sweet, and I have grown to have an appreciation for it. I have noticed so-called "Artists" and "Liberals" heap endless hate upon Thomas Kinkade even on the day of his passing. The truth is the attacks on Thomas Kinkade have nothing to do the technical quality or style of his work. It is the subject matter and tone that they hate so much. It is his nostalgia and love for the home, church, nature, and the Victorian architecture that they hate so much. Sentimentality and sweetness seems to be unforgivable to the modernest.

Goodbye To The “Painter Of Light”, Thomas Kinkaide

Cottages of Love - A Tribute to Thomas Kinkade

In Memory of Thomas Kinkade: Beloved Christian Painter

Thursday, March 8, 2012

Victorian Interiors

Psalm 103

Shaped Note Singing

Shape notes are a music notation designed to facilitate congregational and community singing. The idea behind shape notes is that the parts of a vocal work can be learned more quickly and easily if the music is printed in shapes that match up with the solfege syllables with which the notes of the musical scale are sung. The notation, introduced in 1801, became a popular teaching device in American singing schools. Shapes were added to the note heads in written music to help singers find pitches within major and minor scales without the use of more complex information found in key signatures on the staff.

Shape notes of various kinds have been used for over two centuries in a variety of music traditions, mostly sacred but also secular, originating in New England, practiced primarily in the Southern region of the United States for many years. Although seven-shape books may not be as popular as in the past, there are still a great number of churches in the South, in particular Primitive Baptist, Independent Fundamental Baptist, and Churches of Christ, as well as Conservative Mennonites throughout North America, that regularly use seven-shape songbooks in Sunday worship.

Sacred Harp singing is a tradition of sacred choral music that took root in the Southern region of the United States. It is part of the larger tradition of shape note music. Sacred Harp music is performed a capella (voice only, without instruments) and originated as Protestant Christian music. The songs sung are primarily from the book The Sacred Harp.2

Sacred Harp Singing
University of Mississippi: Sacred Harp Singing
Smithsonian Education: A Shape-Note Singing Lesson
Minnesota Public Radio: Shaped Note Singing
Encyclopedia of Southern Culture: Shape-Note Singing Schools

My Mother by Ann Taylor

"My Mother," a poem written by Ann Taylor (1783 –1866) and illustrated by Walter Crane. Follow link below:

Thursday, February 16, 2012

The Deserted House

The Deserted House
by Alfred Tennyson

Life and Thought have gone away
Side by side,
Leaving door and windows wide:
Careless tenants they!

All within is dark as night:
In the windows is no light;
And no murmur at the door,
So frequent on its hinge before.

Close the door, the shutters close,
Or thro' the windows we shall see
The nakedness and vacancy
Of the dark deserted house.

Come away: no more of mirth
Is here or merry-making sound.
The house was builded of the earth,
And shall fall again to ground.

Come away: for Life and Thought
Here no longer dwell;
But in a city glorious--
A great and distant city--have bought
A mansion incorruptible.
Would they could have stayed with us!

The Charge Of The Light Brigade

Tuesday, February 7, 2012

Charles Dickens

Charles Dickens, born February 7, 1812, 200th birthday today, also see earlier post, Telescopic Philanthropy.
Chesterton argues that the disappearance of Victorian greatness is mirrored by the disappearance of Christian hope, a virtue that suffused English culture in the early 19th century and was given its voice in Dickens’ novels.1
The Theology of Charles Dickens and On Reading Dickens
Charles Dickens Free Google eBooks

Monday, February 6, 2012

The Patience of Hope

The Patience of Hope
by Christina Rossetti

The flowers that bloom in sun and shade
And glitter in the dew,
The flowers must fade.
The birds that build their nest and sing
When lovely spring is new,
Must soon take wing.

The sun that rises in his strength
To wake and warm the world,
Must set at length.
The sea that overflows the shore
With billows frothed and curled,
Must ebb once more.

All come and go, all wax and wane,
O Lord, save only Thou
Who dost remain
The Same to all eternity.
All things which fail us now
We trust to Thee.

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

Evening at Home

"Evening at Home" by Sir Edward John Poynter (1836-1919)

Monday, January 23, 2012

Psalm 137

Psalm 137

The culture around us

By Babel's streams we sat and wept...

Thinking about an earlier post on morality and courtship, one can easily grow very discouraged, we now live in virtual modern-day Sodom and Gomorrah. It seems almost impossible to escape the evil and filth which is pushed at us every day. It seems as if fornication and every other kind of perversion has been normalized(see: 1 Corinthians 6:17) and marriage is degraded and destroyed. Sadly one comes to the realization separation is about only path available to those who want to live a decent and moral life in the times in which we live. R. J. Rushdoony said family is trust of "blood, rights, property, name... an inheritance from the past to be preserved and developed for the future." The culture around is at war with all of these things. And sadly most churches seem unwilling to fight to protect any of these things

As the late Paul M. Weyrich said:
While conservatives have won many political victories since the election of Ronald Reagan, the Left has continued to win the culture war. Unfortunately, culture is more powerful than politics. Conservatives have thus won tactically while losing strategically, with the consequence that American society has continued to decline into the abyss that opened before it in the 1960s.1

He also earlier pointed at the need to reject and separate ourselves from the vile culture around:
Cultural Marxism is succeeding in its war against our culture. The question becomes, if we are unable to escape the cultural disintegration that is gripping society, then what hope can we have? ...I am very concerned, as I go around the country and speak and talk to young people, when I find how much of the decadent culture they have absorbed without even understanding that they are a part of it... we need to drop out of this culture, and find places, even if it is where we physically are right now, where we can live godly, righteous and sober lives.2

A sadly all too true point from Miss Liberty:
In the younger generation depraved, perverted men lusting after a woman’s body convince her that they “love” her and they need to be together...The women do all in their power to attract the eyes of men. Flirting, exposing themselves, and aggrassive behavior they use to try to draw the lust of the opposite sex. Hoping to draw “love” they give of their most valuable posession...I gasped at the results. Broken hearted/mental children, unclaimed children, adulterers and adultresses and alas, even suicides.3

'Prettiness' gone the way of goodness:
The fact that standards of beauty have taken a sharp turn away from innocence and prettiness toward a kind of wantonness and sluttiness is evident when we look at pictures from the past compared to today's female celebrities and even average women on the street.

And so we are left living in Babylon, but we must make our homes, cultivate our gardens, and live our lives...