The Voice Within

Creation rings with the beauty of our King!I praise God for the opportunity to see the daffodils dance, stand (literally) breathless after hikes and for the fantastic prayer night  in the hills. Spring night In a cottage by the hills. When hearts sprung- In song, In shouts, In tears, In prayer- In tune- To the spirit who lead us And the strumming Of a friend's guitar. 

My eyes yearn to behold my heavenly father Who has been with me through it all Who is just to condemn my unfaithful heart but rather Laid down your life for me, shattering every wall That kept me from tasting living water Rejoice! for clothed are ye in righteousness and lifted is your pall

Holding a warm polyetheline coated cup of lemon tea to my cheek, I was strolling through the avenues of cyberspace when, voila! I read a poem by George Herbert! What joy fills my heart to see the praise of my LORD and saviour Jesus to be penned into poetry by this welshman who embraced the use of literary 'conceit' that was later upheld by the metaphysical school. I can't wait to read more of Herbert but, alas, the present time beckons me to ponder over theories of symbolic interactionism to build a framework for my social psychology paper. After that is handed in, though, I shall lunch with Laura, read Herbert and pack my bags for a much anticipated journey to the Lake district, that was home to many a writer and thinker. I shall worship god amidst the mountains and enjoy sweet fellowship with my lovely friends Taryn and Peter. All thanks to my father above who does not change like shifting lights, and from whom every good thing comes (James 1:17).

LOVE by: George Herbert (1593-1632) OVE bade me welcome; yet my soul drew back, Guilty of dust and sin. But quick-eyed Love, observing me grow slack From my first entrance in, Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning If I lack'd anything.   'A guest,' I answer'd, 'worthy to be here:' Love said, 'You shall be he.' 'I, the unkind, ungrateful? Ah, my dear, I cannot look on Thee.' Love took my hand and smiling did reply, 'Who made the eyes but I?'   'Truth, Lord; but I have marr'd them: let my shame Go where it doth deserve.' 'And know you not,' says Love, 'Who bore the blame?' 'My dear, then I will serve.' 'You must sit down,' says Love, 'and taste my meat.' So I did sit and eat.   "We know what real love is because Jesus gave up his life for us. So we also ought to give up our lives for our brothers and sisters." (1 John 3:16)