Blessings in a Heat Wave - sung

 I wrote the words for this little prayer yesterday while out in my route. Today I composed a little melody for it. Please ignore the fact that my satchel twisted up my collar. It was hot and I didn’t notice. 

Not More than I Am Able

    I find Saint Bernard of Clairvaux to be both a compelling and disturbing individual in the history of Christianity.

    I appreciate his devotional writing. He wrote some eighty-six sermons from the Song of Solomon - and never got past chapter two! He was one of the co-founders of the Knights Templar. 

    He also stirred up enthusiasm for the second crusade by promising that it would be a means of grace and absolution for sin. And then, when the crusade failed, blamed it on the sins of the crusaders. Go figure. 

    Today's backyard recording is based on one of his writings. 

    My God, my help, I shall love you as I am able
    yet my love is less than your due
    not more, not more, not more than I am able
    for even if I cannot love you 
    as much as I should
    still, I cannot love you
    more than I can. 
    I shall only ever be able 
    to love you the more 
    when you give me more
    and still, you'll never find my love worthy of you. 

Yeehaw for the GOP (a song)

Here's a low-fi recording of a goofy little song I wrote as I was out and about the past couple of days. I hope you'll like it. 

You’ll go to war with everyone, you’re ready to invade
bombing schools and burning mosques is how this game is played.
Burn the oil, blot out the sun make it darker everyday
it’s the end of time, the final reel and Jesus is on his way.

Take advice from fools and cross against the lights
you’re just a graveyard bully who’s pickin’ another fight.
You deliberately misunderstand the doctrine that you claim
Everything you touch turns into another round of shame

Yeehaw for the GOP
for God and country.
Yeehaw for the GOP
Ain’t that somethin’
Fox News lovin’
modern Know Nothin’s
God’s Own Party, yessiree.

You don’t want the immigrant, the woman, or the gays
You only want the schools where the teachers bow to pray
Dismiss the prophets, malign the mystics these books you’ll never read
ignorance is the way to your nationalistic creed.

Lincoln’s party has devolved from what it used to be
I remember how you sang, “Let us die to set men free.” 
Building prisons, camps, and jails, and all of them for profit,
Deregulation is your way to bigger bank deposits.

Yeehaw for the GOP
for God and country.
Yeehaw for the GOP
Ain’t that somethin’
Fox News lovin’
modern Know Nothin’s
God’s Own Party, yessiree.

Jesus ain’t no Democrat, I know this to be true
but how could anyone see the Lord above when they look at you?
Mister Rodgers was a Republican, a man I could respect.
If more of you were more like him, I’d hug and kiss your necks.

Yeehaw for the GOP
for God and country.
Yeehaw for the GOP
Ain’t that somethin’
Fox News lovin’
modern Know Nothin’s
God’s Own Party, yessiree.

A Dispensationalist Shepherded Tone

 

    “My brothers, my sisters these are the prophesied days. The end is near...”

    The superposition of sine waves separated by octaves. Start low, rising higher.

    “Look to Israel regathered. God’s time clock. The infallible sign. Only a breath away...”

    Continually rising. Higher, higher, ever higher, never higher.

    “The rapture is imminent. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe today. Two thousand years. Maybe today...”

    Ever increasing intensity. Perpetually sustained anxiety.

    “You’ve seen the signs – You have heard of wars and rumors of wars – Russia is on the move. China is assembling an army of millions. Germany will invade. Nation against nation. Kingdom against kingdom. Famines and earthquakes in divers places. Plagues and pestilence and devastating disease...”

    Reaching for resolution. Reaching. Reaching. Rising. Reaching.

    “Mussolini is the Antichrist. Kissinger is the Antichrist. Gorbachev is the Antichrist. Saddam is the Antichrist...”

    Rising. Rising. Still Rising.

    “The future is now. It’s later than it’s ever been. The signs have been fulfilled in our our lifetime. This generation. Now. The dawn is rising…”

    Imminent but never here.

Our Earth We Now Lament To See

 

    I found this hymn by Charles Wesley in our methodist hymnal (#449) today. I came home after church and quickly recorded my own little version of it. Wesley's words, my melody. 

    Our earth we now lament to see
    with floods of wickedness overflowed,
    with violence, wrong, and cruelty,
    one wide-extended field of blood,
    where men like fiends each other tear
    in all the hellish rage of war.

    As listed on Abaddon's side,
    they mangle their own flesh, and slay; 
    Tophet is moved, and opens wide
    its mouth for its enormous prey;
    and myriads sink beneath the grave,
    and plunge into the flaming wave. 

    O might the universal Friend
    this havoc of his creatures see!
    Bid our unnatural discord end,
    declare us reconciled in thee!
    Write kindness on our inward parts
    and chase the murderer from our hearts!

    Who now against each other rise,
    the nations of the earth constrain
    to follow after peace, and prize
    the blessings of thy righteous reign,
    the joys of unity to prove,
    the paradise of perfect love!
    

Awake, My Soul - A Basement Hymn

 Here's another hymn recording - with words by Thomas Ken (1637 - 1711) and music by me. 

Awake, my soul, and with the sun
thy daily stage of duty run;
shake off dull sloth,
and joyful rise
to pay the morning sacrifice. 

All praise to thee, who safe has kept
and has refreshed me while I slept; 
Grant, Lord when I
from death shall wake
I may of endless life partake. 

Lord, I my vows to thee renew; 
disperse my sins as morning dew; 
guard my first steps
of thought and will
and with thyself my spirit fill. 

Praise God, from whom all blessings flow;
praise him all creatures here below; 
praise him above,
ye heavenly host;
praise the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost

Greater Things - a Basement Hymn

 Here's another lofi, basement recording of a hymn - with words by Albert Orsborn (1866 - 1967) and music by myself. You'll have to excuse the fact that I managed to cut off my head for most of the video. 

But you didn't come here to look at me anyway, did you? 

What a work the Lord has done
by his saving grace;
let us praise him every one,
in his holy place.
He has saved us gloriously,
led us onward faithfully,
yet he promised we should see
even greater things.

Greater things. Greater things.
Give us faith, O Lord, we pray
faith for greater things. 

Sanctify thy name, O Lord,
by thy people here.
For the altar or the sword!
Save us from our fear. 
When the battle rages fast;
help us in the fiery blast,
let us not be overcast. 
Prove thy greater things. 

Every comrade, Lord, we pray,
thou would richly bless;
lead us forth into the fray,
one in holiness.
One in faith and harmony,
one in perfect charity;
then we know that we shall see
even greater things. 

Let Us Sing of His Love Once Again

 

Here's another lofi, basement recording of a hymn-  words by Francis Bottome 1823-94, music by me. 

Let us sing of his love once again
of the love that can never decay
of the blood of the Lamb who was slain
till we praise him again in that day.

There is cleansing and healing for all
who will wash in the life-giving flood
there is perfect deliverance and joy
to be had in this world through the blood. 

I believe Jesus saves. 
I believe Jesus saves. 
And his blood washes whiter than snow.  

Even now while we taste of his love
we are filled with delight through his name
but what will it be when above
we shall join in the song of the Lamb!

Then we'll march in his name till we come 
at his bidding to cease from the fight
and our savior shall welcome us home
to our mansions of glory and light. 

I believe Jesus saves. 
I believe Jesus saves. 
And his blood washes whiter than snow.  

So with banners unfurled to the breeze
our motto shall holiness be
till the crown from his hand we shall seize
and the king in his glory we see. 

Let us sing of his love once again
of the love that can never decay
of the blood of the Lamb who was slain
till we praise him again in that day.

Welcome to the New Year (song recording)

 I wrote this song yesterday as I was carrying mail and packages along my route. I made a low-fi, basement recording of it today after church. 

Welcome to the new year with old woes
fighting again with old friends and new foes
midnight terror rocket blast
all the horrors of the past
continuing

A Hymn for Christ the King Sunday

Happy Antifa Sunday. This is a hymn I wrote for our church service this morning. 

Let congress, and parliament,
kings, and premiers and presidents,
Confess the truth and now repent
Before the King.

Confess that we have gone to war,
Killed our enemies and ten thousand more,
We’ve ignored the voice of the poor
And suffering.

All our violent, warring states,
Founded on vicious crimes of hate,
And built with greed insatiate
Are worthless things.

May all earthly empires fall,
Scattered hard and not recalled,
Let the Lord’s victorious call
Forever ring.

Let the whole world be amazed
By the one who died and was raised,
Lives forever to be praised
And hailed as King.

All the humble and broken ones,
Neglected daughters and forgotten sons,
Will be like the stars and the sun
Bright shining.

Christ the King, with nail-scarred hands,
Will bless the people of the lands
Who acquiesce to Love’s demands
For living.

We're Livin' Life

 

    Sometimes while I'm out delivering the mail I sing. Here's a song I wrote as I walked my route this weekend. Someone joked that I think I'm the next John Prine. Ha. 

    Apparently I skipped a verse when I recorded it. Ah well... There were five or six other verses that I wrote and discarded even before I sat down today to record it. And it's possible that I might add more later. I dunno. 

Rain is knocking leaves from the trees,
rain is falling down on me
yeah, I don’t mind.

No speaking angel on the telephone,
I’m listening to the dial tone
yeah, dial again.

Welcome home my traveling friend,
drag your dusty bones on in
yeah, tell me where ya’ been.

Stand the table, turn the lights,
you and I’ll stay up all night
yeah, with some homemade wine.

Tellin’ tales and trading stories,
remembering all our faded glories
yeah, remember when?

Fanaticism to the right,
materialism hangs on tight
yeah, we’re caught in between.

Faith is an ally in the search for truth,
both would help in the voting booth
yeah, I’m radicalized.

The rich get richer and the poor stay poor,
they have it all and they still want more
yeah, they say that greed is good.

I’m afraid that I can say no more,
you’ve heard all of this before
yeah, and nothing’s changed.

All day long with snow and rain,
every day another pain
yeah, we’re livin’ life.

John the Revelator Needs To Dream Again

 I've written and recorded (lofi - in the backyard with lots of wind) another song. I fumbled a little in the penultimate verse, but I don't mind if you don't mind. 

John the Revelator will show you the world,
the kingdom of heaven with banner unfurled.
Count up the cost
and restore what’s been lost.
John the Revelator will show you the world.

John the Revelator, tell me what do you see?
Tell us the things that yet could still be.
We want to believe
and from heaven receive.
John the Revelator, tell me what do you see?

John the Revelator, tell me what do you hear?
The voice of the thunders in your ears -
What did they say
on that black day?
John the Revelator, tell me what did you hear?

John the Revelator, should we look to the east
for the rise of a man who acts like a beast?
Or is he right here
living out loud and clear?
John the Revelator, should we look to the east?

John the Revelator, Babylon will fall.
It has become the home of all
the demons and beasts
who leave us no peace.
John the Revelator, Babylon will fall.

John the Revelator, tell me is this the end,
the moment in time towards which all things bend
or is there still time
to sing another rhyme?
John the Revelator, tell me is this the end?

John the Revelator needs to dream again,
stop what he’s doing and pick up his pen
‘cause all that he said
has gone out of our head.
John the Revelator needs to dream again.

Sing the Penitential Hymns (updated and recorded)

     I posted the words to this song the other day. After adding two additional verses and writing a melody for it, I sang it at church this morning. 

Psalm 52 (Why Do You Boast?)

 

Why do you proudly boast
oh, mighty one,
of all the mischief
that you have done?
Your tongue’s a razor,
cutting cruel.
Why do you proudly boast
oh, mighty one?

That is why God will snatch
and strike you down.
And when he does
the faithful will say,
“He would not trust in God,
only wealth and crime.”
That is why God will snatch
and strike you down.

So, like an olive tree
in the house of God,
I will put my trust
in faithful love.
Praise you forever,
for what you’ve done,
like an olive tree
in the house of God.

Try Again

She’s going to cry
but don’t ask any questions
Stop and stay
or go away
just go away

Warm air and cold feet
the old man’s bones are creaking
What did you say
about life
going on?

Wipe your fingers on your shirt
clean the stains from your hands
Drink some water
have an aspirin
try again

Someone is screaming
but the door slams closed
Run up the stairs
and open the window
it can be done

Are you all right?
I don’t know
What do you need?
They don’t bother me
but that’s not true

Wipe your fingers on your shirt
clean the stains from your hands
Drink some water
have an aspirin
try again

The Locusts Are Coming

Moving my hands in physical space
You seem surprised when I touch your face
I’m running so slow that I can’t win the race

Light travels fast but not instantly
The reflection in the mirror’s what I used to be
I’d open my eyes but I don’t want to see

Your memory comes back along with the pain
It’s funny how it comes back again and again
But later this afternoon it just might rain

Looking for purpose in history
Trying to find evidence of injury
Overlapping patterns of tragedy

A hundred-thirty degrees and rising higher
Who is the dictator, who’s the liar?
It’s hard to believe in this ceasefire

The golden age of America begins right now
But don’t press for details, don’t ask how
And anything we’ve said we’ll disavow

The rich have it all and they still want more
Judges are bribed to cheat the poor
We’re already losing the next civil war

Come on, little baby, let me hear you sing
Do what I tell you, don’t change a thing
The locusts are coming with scorpion sting

Angry and Reckless – A Song for Trump

 

It's another backyard recording of a song I wrote - this one for President Trump. 

As angry and as reckless
as a toddler with a gun,
shooting off his vulgar mouth
and staring at the sun.

He’s a liar and a cheat
human nature misaligned
the harbinger of chaos
with death and hell close behind.

Claiming to be righteous
claiming to be wise
a heart full of impiety
and a mouth full of lies.

An abyss of willful ignorance
a vacancy of love
defaulting and defrauding
living push and shove.

The Emperor Nero fiddled
as Rome went up in flames
Trump goes to the golf course
leaving us the blame.

Selah (Psalms Unnumbered)

 This is a quick, lofi recording of a song I wrote on my way home from church this morning. 

Selah (Psalms Unnumbered)

Now the chaos and the clutter
too much noise, too little me
overwhelmed and underfunded
haunted by anxiety

Selah. Selah.

Sleeping in a bed of fire
laying on the spinning floor
I am weary with my groaning
my spine is cracked, my feet are sore

Selah. Selah

Speaking words without meaning
live a life of uncertainty
I will pray with psalms unnumbered
let the Lord deliver me

"Selah" is a liturgical direction used in the Hebrew psalms of uncertain meaning - perhaps "pause" or "reflection" 

Sunrise and Moonfall (Memento Mori)

The shadow of a bird 

flying up in the sky 

runs along the ground 

where there used to be a tree. 

Sunrise and moonfall, transitory. 

 Sparks fly up into

 the cold of the night, 

 a baby takes a breath 

 and her mother says goodbye. 

 Sunrise and moonfall, transitory. 

 Memento mori. 

A Magnolia tree 

pink and white 

loses all its blossoms 

in the rainstorm overnight. 

Sunrise and moonfall, transitory. 

 I’m not ready 

 for the rain to stop just yet,

 I’ll continue walking 

 though I am getting wet. 

 Sunrise and moonfall, transitory. 

 Memento mori.

It’s a song I wrote as I carried mail yesterday and today. 

Christians, to the Paschal Victim

 I sang this song at church this morning. The music is by Ken Canedo. The words go back to the 11th century.