In the church the sound of life upon our ear is falling, Then we see the joy of Christ expressed on every hand; Babylon and things of earth in vain to us are calling. We are home forever in Christ our land.
We’re churching in the Spirit On the church’s local ground; We’re churching with our brothers, Our family we have found. Oh, yes, we’re churching with the churches, And we’ll make the earth resound With hallelujahs for Christ our land!
Hymn: Charles Austin Miles (1868-1946) Photo: Bob McCoy
Winter is the king of showmen turning tree stumps into snowmen and houses into birthday cakes and spreading sugar over lakes. Smooth and clean and frosty white. The world looks good enough to bite. That’s the season to be young, catching snowflakes on your tongue. Snow is snowy when it’s snowing, I’m sorry it’s slushy when it’s going.
Thou art coming, O my Savior, Thou art coming, O my King, In Thy beauty all resplendent, In Thy glory all transcendent; Well may we rejoice and sing; Coming! In the opening east, Herald brightness slowly swells: Coming! O my glorious Priest, Hear we not Thy golden bells?
Thou art coming, Thou art coming; We shall meet Thee on Thy way; We shall see Thee, we shall know Thee, We shall bless Thee, we shall show Thee All our hearts could never say: What an anthem that will be, Ringing out our love to Thee, Pouring out our rapture sweet At Thine own all-glorious feet.
“Suppose that a great commotion arises in the street about something, let us say a lamp-post, which many influential persons desire to pull down. A grey-clad monk, who is the spirit of the Middle Ages, is approached upon the matter, and begins to say, in the arid manner of the Schoolmen, “Let us first of all consider, my brethren, the value of Light. If Light be in itself good–” At this point he is somewhat excusably knocked down. All the people make a rush for the lamp-post, the lamp-post is down in ten minutes, and they go about congratulating each other on their unmediaeval practicality. But as things go on they do not work out so easily. Some people have pulled the lamp-post down because they wanted the electric light; some because they wanted old iron; some because they wanted darkness, because their deeds were evil. Some thought it not enough of a lamp-post, some too much; some acted because they wanted to smash municipal machinery; some because they wanted to smash something. And there is war in the night, no man knowing whom he strikes. So, gradually and inevitably, to-day, to-morrow, or the next day, there comes back the conviction that the monk was right after all, and that all depends on what is the philosophy of Light. Only what we might have discussed under the gas-lamp, we now must discuss in the dark.”
about these things 