Tag Archives: poetry

The Colonizers of Dreams

My version of The Hobbit was printed in 1977 and contains a forward by Peter S. Beagle that I thought was excellent. He concluded his forward with this:

For in the end it is Middle-earth and its dwellers that we love, not Tolkien’s considerable gifts in showing it to us. I said once that the world he charts was there long before him, and I still believe it. He is a great enough magician to tap our most common nightmares, daydreams, and twilight fancies, but he never invented them either: he found them a place to live, a green alternative to each day’s madness here in a poisoned world. We are raised to honor all the wrong explorers and discoverers – thieves planting flags, murders carrying crosses. Let us at last praise the colonizers of dreams.

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Fate tried to conceal him by naming him Smith

One of the earliest memories of school I have is singing patriotic hymns during music class. It was in music class that I learned to sing the popular hymn “America” – or as it was known to us “My Counrty, ‘Tis of Thee.” The driving march of its melody made it an easy song for a young boy to get in to.

While the tune of the song came from the UK’s national anthem – “God Save the Queen” – the lyrics were written in 1831 by a seminary student named Samuel Smith. It took him all of thirty minutes to compose three stanzas and then fifty-eight years before he wrote the fourth.

Samuel Francis Smith – who presumably made his hair look like that on purpose.

Smith’s Harvard roommate, Oliver Wendell Holmes, apparently tried to gain Smith some recognition for his lyric – he wrote over 150 other less well known hymns – by recommending him for an honorary Doctor of Letters degree from Harvard in 1893. But Harvard president Charles William Eliot thought that ‘My Country, ‘Tis of Thee’ was more known for its tune that for the lyrics. Holmes, however, was of the opinion that it would continue to be sung even “when most of us and our pipings are forgotten.”

It appears as though Holmes was right, at least as far as Charles William Eliot’s pipings are concerned. Holmes said of Smith and his song:

And there’s a nice youngster of excellent pith,-
Fate tried to conceal him by naming him Smith;
But he shouted a song for the brave and the free,-
Just read on his medal, “My Country, of thee!”

References:
Wikipedia (obviously)
Morgan, Robert J., Then Sings My Soul: 150 of the World’s Greatest Hymn Stories, 2003 Thomas Nelson.

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Run, John, Run

A while back my pastor gave a sermon, most of which I forgot, about how the grace that God offers through Jesus is greater than our feeble and invariably failed attempts to live up to it. One part I did not forget, however, was a short poem illustrating how hopeless our cause is without the Gospel. The poem’s origin in unclear and was either written by John Bunyan (of Pilgrim’s Progress fame) or John Berridge , an eighteenth century evangelist. John writes:

Run, John, run the law commands
But gives us neither feet nor hands.
Far greater news the gospel brings:
It bids us fly and gives us wings.

As my pastor, Mark Vroegop, puts it, “the Law is rigid, demanding, clear, and impossible. It demands that we run when we have no hands or feet.” But as the verse states, the gospel frees us from this impossible burden and enables us to live up to the expectations of the law vicariously through Jesus.

The poem is beautiful because it simply expresses such a beautifully simple concept.

Here are a few other variations on the poem. One from another eighteenth century preacher, Ralph Erskine:

A rigid matter is the law
Demanding brick, denying straw
But when with gospel tongue it sings,
It bids me fly and gives me wings

I liked them so much I wrote my own:

The law shouts fire, the bell it tolls
But gives us buckets filled with holes;
The Gospel’s answer, though, is plain
When fire’s shouted, gives us rain.

And one from my good friend Michael Buschbacher

The law of God is just and pure,
Reveals disease but gives no cure,
But the Gospel gives what was denied
What once was dead, it makes alive.

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