Nov 6, 2012


"There is a sacredness in tears.  They are not a mark of weakness, but of power.  They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues.  They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition and of unspeakable love."
- Washington Irving (American author, essayist, biographer, and historian)

I'm all tuckered out.  It's been a long day.  But tonight, I'm going to try to write an essay.  Thanks to a dear friend's exhortation, this is now the goal.

Before I begin this work of pushing myself up and out and in a different direction, though...may I share something with you?  I've had this song on repeat for most of today.  It's a fresh take on the hymn "Abide with Me", originally written by Henry Francis Lyte in 1847 as he TB stole his health.  The disease claimed him just three weeks after he finished the song.

I can't sing right now, but I can listen...and for now, that's okay.  I think.  Friend, I hope that this quiet song gives to you, too.

P.S. This version only includes five verses of the original eight, so I've included the full text of the lyrics below the video.

Abide with me; fast falls the eventide;
The darkness deepens; Lord, with me abide.
When other helpers fail and comforts flee,
Help of the helpless, O abide with me.

Swift to its close ebbs out life's little day;
Earth's joys grow dim; its glories pass away;
Change and decay in all around I see;
O Thou who changest not, abide with me.

Not a brief glance I beg, a passing word,
But as Thou dwell'st with Thy disciples, Lord,
Familiar, condescending, patient, free.
Come not to sojourn, but abide with me.

Come not in terrors, as the King of kings,
But kind and good, with healing in Thy wings;
Tears for all woes, a heart for every plea.
Come, Friend of sinners, abide with me.

Thou on my head in early youth didst smile,
And though rebellious and perverse meanwhile,
Thou hast not left me, as I oft left Thee.
On to the close, O Lord, abide with me.

I need Thy presence every passing hour.
What but Thy grace can foil the tempter's power?
Who, like Thyself, my guide and stay can be?
Through cloud and sunshine, Lord, abide with me.

I fear no foe, with Thee at hand to bless;
Ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness.
Where is death's sting? Where, grave, thy victory?
I triumph still, if Thou abide with me.

Hold Thou Thy cross before my closing eyes;
Shine through the gloom and point me to the skies.
Heaven's morning breaks, and earth's vain shadows flee;
In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me.

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