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I am in fact still around...

I haven't posted here for quite a while, and I had the biggest of plans when I was. I was hoping to transcribe and post poetry from Charlotte Mason on a more regular schedule (and I just might), but that project has been on hold for a while. Part of the reason was because of a book on a small Irish band called U2. But that's done now, and I was tired of seeing the CM heading that's been at the top of this blog for a couple of years.

In case you were interested in an update, I have been appointed Registrar at my university, and I remain a member of the Faculty (it will be a challenge to balance those two roles). And the book on U2 has been submitted and is ready for publication (as far as I know). It'll be out later in 2019.

That is the end of this update. I will consider what to do with this blog, and whether I should keep it up at all. Thanks for reading anyway!

Charlotte Mason: "LIX 'Little children abide in Him'" (from Saviour of the World, Vol. IV)

[p164]

LIX

     “Little children abide in Him” (The Disciple)
     “I write unto you, little children, because ye have known the
Father.”
     “I write unto you, little children, because your sins are for-
given you for His name’s sake.”
     “And now, little children, abide in Him.”

     YE children, unto you I write:
          Not strong to overcome are ye,
          Faithful to strive nor wise to flee;—
     But your weak coming was in Light!
          Ye see; though not your feeble thought
          Can shape the knowledge Light has brought,
Yet have ye known the Father long from wisdom
     hid.

     An older breast with pity swells
          For babe in this rude world bereft
          Of parent love, all des’late left!
     Uncareful and at ease he dwells;
          He knows, yet knows not that he knows,
           A care that bears him as he goes,—
The Father he discerns and smiles all fears
     amid!

[p165]

     And, children, unto you I write!
          Ah, not the shining of His face
          Nor shelt’ring of the Father’s grace
     Has kept your garments wholly white:
          Poor babes, ye sin—for strong is ill,
          And small your might and weak your will—
Lo, swift forgiveness lifts anew to His embrace!

     For not on you the burden lies:
          A gracious cloud, a tender tear,
          Is all ye know of hireling fear;
     Then into joy again do rise:
          E’en while ye sin, are ye forgiven
          For His Name’s sake: wherefore in heaven
Your angels evermore behold your Father’s face.

     For, ah, wise little ones, ye know
          To take the Off’ring at the door,
          Nor question aught nor tell the score,
     But enter, free as winds that blow!
          Wherefore, O little ones, I write
          That ye do keep you in the light—
For loving must ye be, O children of His grace!

Charlotte Mason: "LVI 'Lest we cause them to stumble'" (from Saviour of the World, Vol. IV)

[p153]

LVI

“Lest we cause then to stumble”

SILENT and sorrowful the Company went,
Pondering the Master’s word with sinking hearts
And tardy comprehension. Once again,
Their steps turned to Capernaum, the blessed,
And the Lord made His abode in Peter’s house,
High honoured to receive Him; where was she
Late raised by Christ, His grace, from fevered
     bed,
Who would fain speak her love in household
     cares:
Did the Lord comfort there the sorrowing Twelve,
Or sat they there with Him, as those men of old
Sate silent with stricken Job?
                                                   Peter went forth
And was accosted by those men sent out
To gather from Israelites that Temple due
The legal half a shekel. “Doth not your Lord
Contribute to the general fund?” they ask,
Surmising that, perchance, for cause unknown
He might refuse this service to religion.

[p154]

“He doth,” said Peter, knowing well his Lord
Neglected no observance that became
A pious Jew. But th’ Saint went home per-
     plexed,—
Now where should he a shekel find? Full well
He knew that Christ no money owned—though
     He,
The Son of God most high! Entering the house
With anxious brow, the Lord discerns his care,—
Speaks first to him, or e’er he told a word:—
“What think’st thou, Simon, of whom do kings
     take toll,
From their own sons, or from the subject-folk,
The strangers, not their kin, o’er whom they
     rule?”
“Why, sure, from strangers.” “Therefore,” saith
     the Lord,
“The King’s own sons go free and share that
     State
The tributes of the people must support.”

Did Peter understand how the Lord had said,—
These Temple-dues are for God’s worship paid,
That th’ beauty of holiness may be set forth
By outward symbols in the Temple: See,
I and the Father are one; that worship paid
By pious souls to God, is paid to Me—
One with the Father, sharing all His dues:
Is’t fit that I contribute toward those rites
Ye Jews pay punctual to God—and Me?

[p155]


“But we may not impede these men in their
     task,
Nor give them cause for anger or harsh words,
Misjudging thee and Me: so their offence
Were laid at our door who had made them sin:—
Go thou to Gennesareth and cast a hook;
Draw the first fish to land, nor pause to ask
Is’t small or great; when thou hast ope’d his
     mouth,
A shekel thou shalt find; that take and pay
To the men—just Temple-dues for thee and Me.”


A PDF is available here.

Charlotte Mason: "VI The miracle of increase" (from Saviour of the World, Vol. IV)

VI The miracle of increase

THAT miracle of increase—what the steps,
And at what moment did the change take place?
Did broken fragments multiply the while—
The instant’s space—they passed through Jesus’
     hands?
The Disciples’ baskets—were they straightway
     filled
Direct from the hands of the Lord? Or, grew
     the store
In the act of giving, each portion leaving more
Than itself to fill its place? Idle, we ask;
Who tells us how the goodly grain is built,—
The seed, the blade, the ear, full corn in ear—
That man knows th’ processes of miracles,
How thousands may be fed, how tempests, stilled!
Such mysteries, they yield all to one key
Had we the wit to know it, grace to use:
Life feeds upon the living—all we know!
“In Him was life”—our sum of knowledge, see;
No further oracle’s vouchsafed to men
For all their restless searching, arrogant boasts:
That secret place where life doth hide itself
And thence flows forth to animate the worlds—
Rejecting Christ, THE LIFE, what hope have we
That any find it for us? Alternative,
There’s none for us: ’tis Christ, or blank dismay!
As General spies weak point in his defence,
So Christ took His disciples, constraining them,
By force of that strong word they knew t’obey,
Despite their protestations—sure, not they
Would leave Him all alone to deal with this
Tumultuous multitude!—and, straight, they go,
Take boat as they are bid for further side;
And Christ, alone, took leave of all the folk,
Dispersed them to their homes, constrained by
     that
Authority in Him which some knew to name.

And was the Christ alone? Two years had
     passed
Since in the wilderness one came and said,—
“The Kingdoms shall be thine and all their praise
Wilt thou but bow to me!” Two strenuous
     years,
The Lord had carried water in a sieve,
Had urged great boulder up a mountainous slope;
The inconstant people slipped away from Him;
Fast as He raised them, fell to lower depth:
Is any toil like his who high ideal
Urges incessant on unwilling souls?
What if, once more, the Tempter came and
     mocked;—
“Two years gone by—no Kingdom yet to
     show!”
What if he urged, “Nay, try my readier plan,—
Let them make King of Thee, and all the gifts
Which Thou wouldst give to men shall flow from
     Thee!”
What if stress of temptation drove our Lord,
That He clomb up the mountain there to pray!—
And peace attends His prayer, and careful love.

The Lord gazed from His height; quick flash
     revealed
The Disciples toiling on uneasy sea—
Sight piteous out of the dark, their boat a toy,
A plaything of strong waves, tempestuous winds:
The men distressed with rowing make no way;
In the fourth watch of the night, there were they
     still!
“Anon, the Lord was with us, safe were we
’Mid all the turmoil of wild heavens, great seas!
Alone, we perish, late so full of hope!”
What greater strait might be—alone, in the
     night,
Peril of death about them, without hope?
But what is this adds horror to their dread—
Better to drown than demons see abroad
Walking the midnight sea! Spectre abhorred,
They’d heard how such appeared to men fore-
     doomed,
And terror froze their hands to idle oars!
The Shape draws near—a likeness grows on
     them;
More awful fear appals: then,—Is it He,
The Spirit of their Master? He is dead,
And they, indeed, left orphaned, desolate!—
They cried aloud in terror; worse than all,
This apparition unendurable!
A tender voice bids all their fears subside—
They hear through the tempest’s raging, “It is I;
Be of good cheer poor troubled hearts, nor
     fear!”
Too much the joy for Peter, sudden induced
On anguish of his terror:—Lost he his wits,
And cried, “Lord, bid me come if it be
     Thou!”
Hazards of faith are welcome to the Lord,
If so be, He must reckless zeal instruct
Which counts not the cost. “Come,’ saith Christ,
     and he came,
Stepped from the boat with eye fixed on the
     Lord,
And steady walked the waters: then, distract,
He saw the heaving sea; “I perish, Lord,
Save Thou!” Immediately the Lord stretched
     hand,
Took hold of the sinking saint, and spake re-
     proof,—
“O thou of little faith, wherefore didst doubt?”
They in the boat knew all their fears subside;
That dear familiar voice quick calmed their soul;—
How awful the surroundings, here was Christ,
And willingness took the place of shrinking
     dread:
Glad, they in the boat received Him; subsided
     straight
The fury of the storm: those weary leagues
Their sore-tired arms must row were over-past,
In the haven where they would be, were they
     now!
Once more they worshipped Him;—“By this
     we know
Of a truth, our Lord, Thou art the Son of God!”
The Lord, too, was He weary? What confi-
     dence,
The loaves, had they produced in hardened
     hearts
Which had no faith in Him when terror urged?


A PDF is available here.

Charlotte Mason: "V The people would make Him king" (from Saviour of the World, Vol. IV)

V The people would make Him king

“HERE’S of a truth that Prophet of the Lord
Moses foretold should lead the folk like him,
Like him, give bread to spare in the wilderness!”
So spake all they who heard what Christ had
     done:
Full well they spake; who knows to open wide
Men’s mouths with hunger, knows straightway
     to drop
Food that shall animate or fainting flesh,
Or heart sunk low in courage; to give new life
To all the failing goodness of a soul,—
He, Prophet of the World! the One who sees,—
Knows all the needs of men, and ministers!

“This Prophet be our King!” they cry them
     hoarse,
Allured by the hope of bread for men spread
     thick
As manna in the barren wilderness!
What need to labour? All should sit at ease;
His bread provided, each himself should please!
“Why, what’s a King for but his people’s bread

To furnish, liberal, constant: this is He!
Unwilling, He hangs back, but we are strong,
The many people, sure, may make their King!”
And hot, impetuous, by one impulse moved,
They came perforce to seize and make Him
     King!
The disciples stood exultant, from their eyes
Encouragement spake out; all the mad crowd
Knew them supported by these grave good men.


A PDF is available here.

Charlotte Mason: "IV Christ our 'Providence'" (from Saviour of the World, Vol. IV)

IV Christ our “Providence”

“Now make them all sit down:” and that same
     John,
Who splendours saw of the new Jerusalem,
The rainbow throne, the sardius, emerald,—
Here, also, saw what fed his artist-eye;—
Saw much grass in the place; the vivid-hued
Garments of eastern men amongst the flowers,—
Kaleidoscope of colours: soon, the word
Came, bidding all to sit by companies;
See, a score of open squares, with space in midst
Where Christ stood with th’ disciples, and that
     meal—
The little meal which should sustain them all—
Mocking the eyes of thousand hungry folk
Thus bidden to break fast! Did any know
With soft assurance in his inward heart
That, the thing He gives sufficeth, less or more?

How good to us, anhungered, to perceive
The Master’s mind disclosed in all the tale,
See order emanating from His act
As song from throat of throstle! so did John see
A jewelled glory as of painted glass
Reflected on his vision from Christ’s thought! —
How good to see our Saviour in the midst
Dealing out bread to all that multitude
E’en as He deals to us in harvest field!
The harvest’s yellow glory in all lands,
In Egypt, Syria, distant western fields,
The table spread for us as for the birds,—
How this one scene interprets the Lord’s ways!

Lo, that large circle, those five thousand souls,
Raised eyes to Him in their midst; He took the
     loaves,—
The little barley cakes, the fishes two,—
And, looking up to heaven, He blessed the meat
And gave God thanks Who feeds us. That poor
     “Grace”
We say before meat,—convicted, we elude
The eye of Him who taught us! Consider we
This feeding of five thousand, and we perceive
How the very life of God comes with our bread!
He brake the loaves and fishes, gave the meat
To the disciples, they to th’ multitude:—
Behold, our uses! That He hands to us,
For distribution is’t, that all may eat;
We, honoured in His service and in theirs.

The people ate accustomed fare with zest—
The wonder of ’t! And ate the more to try,
Could the supply give out and any lack ?
In time they were all filled; and the ordered
     mind
Of Him, the universe sustains and made,
Appeared in a little matter: “Gather up,”
Said He who fed them with unlaboured act,
“The broken pieces left that none be lost.”
No trifling thing, these fragments of men’s
     food: —
Organic life alone can life sustain;
Cycles of time, processes manifold,
Initial act creative, evolving care
Of Him who first had made,—all these had gone To make rejected crust, fragment of fish:
And those twelve baskets filled with broken
     meat,
Of God’s world-providence tell all the tale!


A PDF is available here.