Variations

Charles Wesley wrote a hymn. Well, actually he wrote a hymn approximately every three days. But I have a particular hymn in mind, and that is "Jesus, Lover of My Soul."

Jesus, lover of my soul, let me to Thy bosom fly,
While the nearer waters roll, while the tempest still is high.
Hide me, O my Savior, hide, till the storm of life is past;
Safe into the haven guide; O receive my soul at last.

Other refuge have I none, hangs my helpless soul on Thee;
Leave, ah! leave me not alone, still support and comfort me.
All my trust on Thee is stayed, all my help from Thee I bring;
Cover my defenseless head with the shadow of Thy wing.

Thou, O Christ, art all I want, more than all in Thee I find;
Raise the fallen, cheer the faint, heal the sick, and lead the blind.
Just and holy is Thy Name, I am all unrighteousness;
False and full of sin I am; Thou art full of truth and grace.

Plenteous grace with Thee is found, grace to cover all my sin;
Let the healing streams abound; make and keep me pure within.
Thou of life the fountain art, freely let me take of Thee;
Spring Thou up within my heart; rise to all eternity.

There are several tunes you can sing it to, and the tune called "Martyn" (composer Simon B. Marsh) is the tune I learned to play for this hymn, the first time I ever learned to play a hymn. My mom recommended it to me as a good one to start with because three of the four lines of music are identical.

Here it is with the tune I learned:



It's pretty like that, but when I was older I learned a different tune that has more appeal for me. The tune is called "Aberystwyth" (composer Joseph Parry). From the spelling of the title and the name of the composer, I'm guessing the tune is Welsh. It seems like Gaelic or Celtic tunes always have a poignant quality.

So here it is with the Welsh tune:



Take your pick.

Happy Fall!

Road conditions

It was foggy yesterday morning as I drove toward Bellingham to meet a friend for brunch.



Misty weather is a very Pacific Northwest vibe.



I talked to an artist once who remarked that this area is perfect for watercolor landscape painting. Not that these pictures are landscapey. I took them through my windshield while driving to show what visibility on the road was like. They're more traffic-cammy.

Well, what do you know

It really is the last rose of summer left blooming alone.



The Last Rose of Summer
Thomas Moore (1779–1852)

’Tis the last rose of summer
Left blooming alone;
All her lovely companions
Are faded and gone;
No flower of her kindred,
No rosebud is nigh,
To reflect back her blushes,
To give sigh for sigh.

I’ll not leave thee, thou lone one!
To pine on the stem;
Since the lovely are sleeping,
Go, sleep thou with them.
Thus kindly I scatter
Thy leaves o’er the bed,
Where thy mates of the garden
Lie scentless and dead.

So soon may I follow,
When friendships decay,
And from Love’s shining circle
The gems drop away.
When true hearts lie withered
And fond ones are flown,
Oh! who would inhabit
This bleak world alone?

An unexpected treat

I thought I had read all Dorothy Sayers' Lord Peter Wimsey mystery novels, but my sister recently was talking about the plot of one that I didn't recognize. So she looked up the title for me, and it was Unnatural Death. I ordered it from Amazon and now have had the pleasure of reading it.

Make hay later when the sun comes back

I woke up in time for church this morning, which is a matter for praise. Good sermon, some good songs, and then beautiful weather all afternoon.

I have been doing housework today, and plenty of it. My house could not by any stretch of the imagination be called clean right now, but certain parts of it are much less messy than they used to be.

It cooled down as dark fell, and I believe it will rain tonight and probably tomorrow. It's supposed to start clearing up on Tuesday. I'm depending on it, as I did not mow my lawn this weekend, even though the weather was perfect for it and the grass is getting long.

Here's a picture of me at a work function on Friday: