Anyway, I thought the poem they read on air was touching especially considering the circumstances with the wildfires that are in California. I'm not sure where all of them are, but I heard that the city of Paradise was evacuated, and surprisingly enough, I actually know someone whose family is up there. Well, here's the poem:
In silent night when rest I took,
For sorrow neer I did not look,
I waken'd was with thundring nois
And Piteous shreiks of dreadfull voice.
That fearfull sound of fire and fire,
Let no man know is my Desire.
I, starting up, the light did spye,
And to my God my heart did cry
To strengthen me in my
Distresse And not to leave me succourlesse.
Then coming out beheld a space,
The flame consume my dwelling place.
And, when I could no longer look,
I blest his Name that gave and took,
That layd my goods now in the dust:
Yea so it was, and so 'twas just.
It was his own: it was not mine;
Far be it that I should repine.
He might of All justly bereft,
But yet sufficient for us left.
When by the Ruines oft I past,
My sorrowing eyes aside did cast,
And here and there the places spye
Where oft I sate, and long did lye.
Here stood that Trunk, and there that chest;
There lay that store I counted best:
My pleasant things in ashes lye,
And them behold no more shall I.
Under thy roof no guest shall sitt,
Nor at thy Table eat a bitt.
No pleasant tale shall 'ere be told,
Nor things recounted done of old.
No Candle 'ere shall shine in Thee,
Nor bridegroom's voice ere heard shall bee.
In silence ever shalt thou lye;
Adieu, Adeiu; All's vanity.
Then streight I gin my heart to chide,
And didst thy wealth on earth abide?
Didst fix thy hope on mouldring dust,
The arm of flesh didst make thy trust?
Raise up thy thoughts above the skye
That dunghill mists away may flie.
Thou hast an house on high erect
Fram'd by that mighty Architect,
With glory richly furnished,
Stands permanent tho' this bee fled.
It's purchased, and paid for too
By him who hath enough to doe.
A Prise so vast as is unknown,
Yet, by his Gift, is made thine own.
Ther's wealth enough, I need no more;
Farewell my Pelf, farewell my Store.
The world no longer let me Love,
My hope and Treasure lyes Above.
The resignation and the meekness is amazing, isn't it? I think the poem is relevant because it isn't full of anguish and cursing God, which is a very easy and natural reaction. It's full of acceptance and seeks understanding of His will, and it makes me wish for more of that. Along those lines, I read something this morning that is somewhat related:
There is locked in all of us, as there was in Enos - and I read Enos to say that he was surprised to find it there (see Enos 7:8) - more faith than we presently know. He was heard, and we are heard. But it may not be the response of God here and now we wish. Yet have you not not lived long enough to say to the Lord, "Disregard previous memo;" to thank him that he answered no, and to ask that he erase some of the petitions that you now realize were foolish or hasty or even perverse?I liked how he, Truman Madsen, put that.
I've been on a little bit of a poetry kick lately. I just happened to pick up a book of poetry that I had purchased some time ago and was remembering why I bought it in the first place. Poetry and music amaze me in the way that each can stir really deep emotions with just a few words, notes, and stanzas. Reading good literature inspires me more than anything to want to be more artistic, or at least allow that expression to surface more. Well...I should be getting back to work.
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