Words from John Piper:
[T]he essence of worship is not external, localized acts, but an inner, Godward experience that shows itself externally not primarily in church services (though they are important) but primarily in daily expressions of allegiance to God.
John Piper
Brothers, We Are Not Professionals, page 228 (ebook edition)
A moving hymn by John Newton. I don’t think I have the guts to try to set it musically for fear of somehow losing the power of the text itself.
I asked the Lord that I might grow
In faith, and love, and every grace;
Might more of his salvation know,
And seek, more earnestly, his face.’Twas he who taught me thus to pray,
And he, I trust, has answered prayer!
But it has been in such a way,
As almost drove me to despair.I hoped that in some favored hour,
At once he’d answer my request;
And by his love’s constraining pow’r,
Subdue my sins, and give me rest.Instead of this, he made me feel
The hidden evils of my heart;
And let the angry pow’rs of hell
Assault my soul in every part.Yea more, with his own hand he seemed
Intent to aggravate my woe;
Crossed all the fair designs I schemed,
Blasted my gourds, and laid me low.Lord, why is this, I trembling cried,
Wilt thou pursue thy worm to death?
“’Tis in this way, the Lord replied,
I answer prayer for grace and faith.These inward trials I employ,
From self, and pride, to set thee free;
And break thy schemes of earthly joy,
That thou may’st find thy all in me.”
John Newton. Olney Hymns (1799), Book III, 36.
Spurred on by Bruce Benedict’s post Songs for Epiphany, here is an arrangement of At the Name of Jesus to Ralph Vaughan Williams’ outstanding tune, King’s Weston.
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On the Worship Reformation Network mailing list, some recent discussion has revolved around “O Holy Night” and its appropriateness as a congregational song. Leeanne White posted a translation of the original French poem on which “O Holy Night” is based.
Midnight, Christians, it’s the solemn hour,
When God-man descended to us
To erase the stain of original sin
And to end the wrath of His Father.
The entire world thrills with hope
On this night that gives it a Savior.People kneel down, wait for your deliverance.
Christmas, Christmas, here is the Redeemer,
Christmas, Christmas, here is the Redeemer!The ardent light of our Faith,
Guides us all to the cradle of the infant,
As in ancient times a brilliant star
Conducted the Magi there from the orient.
The King of kings was born in a humble manger;
O mighty ones of today, proud of your grandeur,It is to your pride that God preaches.
Bow your heads before the Redeemer!
Bow your heads before the Redeemer!The Redeemer has overcome every obstacle:
The Earth is free, and Heaven is open.
He sees a brother where there was only a slave,
Love unites those that iron had chained.
Who will tell Him of our gratitude,
It’s for all of us that He is born,
That He suffers and dies.People stand up! Sing of your deliverance,
Christmas, Christmas, sing of the Redeemer,
Christmas, Christmas, sing of the Redeemer!
Though the current English translation is beloved, I wish we had a new translation that reflected more of the character and weight of the original.
Over at Noisetrade, you can download ONE from Austin City Life church. I like this EP more and more as I listen to it. The first track, In Your Name, is probably my favorite of the album.
I emailed ACL and asked if they had lyrics and lead sheets available and heard back from them very quickly. ACL is a great church and I’m excited that they’re able to put out this great project.
In just one paragraph from Book 1, Chapter 5 of A Tale of Two Cities, Charles Dickens teaches a master-class to those of us who would use similes to make communication more vivid.
The faintness of the voice was pitiable and dreadful. It was not the faintness of physical weakness, though confinement and hard fare no doubt had their part in it. Its deplorable peculiarity was, that it was the faintness of solitude and disuse. It was like the last feeble echo of a sound made long and long ago. So entirely had it lost the life and resonance of the human voice, that it affected the senses like a once beautiful colour faded away into a poor weak stain. So sunken and suppressed it was, that it was like a voice underground. So expressive it was, of a hopeless and lost creature, that a famished traveller, wearied out by lonely wandering in a wilderness, would have remembered home and friends in such a tone before lying down to die.
At the Name of Jesus