Introduction and Welcome
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Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Elizabeth Gardner Bouguereau - Young Girl With a Basket of Grapes, Beethoven Piano Concerto 5 Movement 1 Allegro, Amy Carmichael
Young Girl With a Basket of Grapes by
Elizabeth Gardner Bouguereau
Ludwig Von Beethoven - Piano Concerto 5 Movement 1 Allegro
Part 1 - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y5C7dtuikFE
Part 2 - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2DQ_zj_SjuQ&feature=related
More of Amy Carmichael's wonderful poetry:
JOY COMES SINGING
Lord, I would take Thy comfortings
With both hands gratefuly,
And grief's dark overshadowings,
As lightly as may be--
For they belong to evenings;
Joy comes with day to me,
Comes running with the day to me.
Although my wayside inn at night
May harbor grief as guest,
With dawn he swiftly takes his flight--
And like a bird to nest,
Dear joy comes singing with delight,
As she comes home to rest;
Dear joy comes singing home to rest.
In me is light:
Consider well my sun, his rise, his setting;
My glory of noon.
Let there be no forgetting
My sparkling dust of stars; my exceeding bright
And quiet moon;
My swift, forked lightnings. Where, if not in me,
Is there illumination? Filled am I
With light that passeth all things.
Thus, the sky.
In me is light:
Most wondrous is the glory of my gleaming;
With delicate sunbeams dreaming
In intricate, netted dances do unite.
My very haze
Is luminous; and my night is lit with lamps
Mysteriously moving. Yea, in me
Is all illumination.
Thus, the sea.
In me is light:
My flowers are dressed in garments light-enwoven'
My creatures reign
Royal in colors. Cloven
By fire or frost, my substance, depth or height,
On vein of lustrous metals, jewel beds,
Hidden illumination. All the mirth
O lightsome things possess I.
Thus, the earth.
* * * * * * * * * * *
I listen to the voices of the sky;
I listen to the voices of the sea;
The earth, with all her various loveliness, sings
Sweet songs to me.
But something in me wanders wistful still,
Beyond the light of earth and sea and sky
Is there no light beside?
I stand outside life's shining palace halls,
Will no one come, interpret mysteries,
Unlock the gate?
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
After this I looked, and behold,
A door was opened in heaven.
And by desire made bold,
Forward I ran, and saw the ColorsSeven
Entangled as a rainbow caught in spray,
Over-arch the way;
Whence issued pure, foam-white,
From fountain springs of light,
The exhaustless love of the Lord.
(O rich reward
For poverty of yearning!)
I had felt the heats of the world's brilliance pass;
As withered grass
They left me, scorched by the very glow.
Through the last layers of the dusty clod
I call my soul, the love of God,
Lover of lovers, came
Keen as a flame,
By that strange, spiritual brightness, my waste lands.
The whole wide world did to my Lover sing
In colors; even the desert sands
Were quickened and were green, recovering
All in a moment, verdure. And a rain
Mixed with the light, swept by and cleansed the air.
Oh, it was beautiful,
Beyond the reach
Of mind to think it, heart to adore it--
All previous lights paled utterly before it.
I stood upon the beach
Of infinite joys and gazed
And gazed again,
All humbled and amazed
By the tumultous rush of mine own happiness
And only knew to bless
The Giver and confess
Myself content to be forever there.
Till a familiar voice came unto me and said:
"Although life shed
Her visible glories, still do thou believe.
Doubt not what thou hast seen; rather, retrieve
Thine own--for no decptive dream,
To fade or fail,
That vision beautiful.
But thou must learn to prevail
By force of faith. Be humble, dutiful,
Sincere, without offence,
And quick to penitence;
And put far from thee vanity and lies,
Thy stedfast eyes
Set on the invisible. And know
Assuredly: above, below,
Behind the changes of thy changeful heart,
Behind the fluctuations of thy will,
Uninfluenced by the influences of time,
The love of the Lord, once thine,
Continues with thee. Part
In no wise from this assurance; let it fill
Thy being with its gladness. In thy God
Learn thou to hold thee still.
"Then, in those desperate moments when there slips
Sense of possession from thee,
And fear strips
Feeling from off thee,
And thou standest alone--
Then, then, oh be it known
Through to the core of thee, that Love remains!
For no bewildering pains
Of life or death can wrest her from thee,
No, not even stains
Or shadows of thy sin dim her illumination;
Shaming thy restlessness,
Her light, like to a pearl most precious."
Fell quietness then, and hushed me. All creation
Lay back from me, as owning
Itself surpassed. And as a homing,
Tired bird returns into her nest,
My soul returned unto her rest.