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O Christ, have pity on all men when they come

Unto the border haunted of dismay; When that they know not draweth very near– The other thing, the opposite of day, Formless and ghastly, sick, and gaping-dumb, Before which even love doth lose his cheer: O radiant Christ, remember then thy fear. GM

study

Here are some quotes from Oswald Chambers, written in his work “Disciples Indeed“. I like the pragmatic and realistic approach to Christian discipline. Further – as always truth applies across discipline, so if you write, do music, paint, create art, or are working toward any goal that requires study, you will see applications in these

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van gogh on the gift…

feel free to substitute songwriter, drummer, or other passions in place of painter… ” Now, the art trade brings with it certain prejudices that I believe you may perhaps still cling to, particularly ideas that painting is a gift — well yes, a gift, but not as they make it appear; one must reach out

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“I must say that painting is not as alien to me…

as you might think, on the contrary, I find it very appealing on account of it a powerful means of expression. One can say delicate things with it too…let a soft grey or green speak in the midst of roughness. I don’t think I am deceiving myself if I believe that being and remaining productive

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Keep me, Lord, with thee. I call from out the dark–

Hear in thy light, of which I am a spark. I know not what is mine and what is thine– Of branch and stem I miss the differing mark– But if a mere hair’s-breadth me separateth, That hair’s-breadth is eternal, infinite death. For sap thy dead branch calls, O living vine! GM

produce!

I too could now say to myself; be no longer a chaos, but a World, or even a Worldkin. Produce! Produce! Were it but the pitifullest, infinitesimal fraction of a product, produce it in Gods name! ‘Tis the utmost that thou has in thee? Out with it then! Up up! Whatsoever thy hand find to

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Yet hints come to me from the realm unknown;

Airs drift across the twilight border land, Odoured with life; and as from some far strand Sea-murmured, whispers to my heart are blown That fill me with a joy I cannot speak, Yea, from whose shadow words drop faint and weak: Thee, God, I shadow in that region grand. GM

New Song! hear the drum