Morning Hymn

I bought this book a few years ago. It has been waiting patiently for me.

Songs of Three Centuries, edited by John Greenleaf Whittier.

I didn’t go looking for it. The book found me.

Things I like about the book:

  • Marbled book boards. Isn’t it pretty?
  • Inscription — I’m a sucker for inscriptions, especially really old ones. 140 years ago, MHW suspected that Emma would love the poems inside and gave her the book for Christmas. She held it in her hands and leafed through it, knowing she would come back to some of the poems over and over again.
  • Poems — I really love the language of older poetry.

About a month ago, I started reading a poem (or two) a day from it.

Then I got stuck on this one.

Go ahead. Sing it out loud to the tune of Old 100th. It’ll be stuck in your head, too.

Morning Hymn
by Thomas Ken

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

Wake, and lift up thyself, my heart;
And with the angels bear thy part,
Who all night long unwearied sing
High praise to the eternal King.

All praise to Thee, who safe hast kept.
And hast refreshed me whilst 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 springs of thought and will,
And with thyself my spirit fill.

Direct, control, suggest, this day
All I design, or do, or say,
That all my powers, with all their might,
In thy sole glory may unite.

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

You’re welcome.

Thoughts on Education

Short answer: I’m for it.


Slightly longer answer:

Education

thinking
solving
proving
discovery

too much
social
interaction –
recovery

writing
rewriting
citing
recite

reading
researching
finding
delight

learning
questioning
seeking
knowledge

elementary
middle
high school
college

Except not everyone needs to go to college.


Fears

Fears I don’t have:

  • spiders
  • the dark
  • idle threats

Fears that I do:

  • failure
  • not trying
  • regrets

I made the collage at the top for last year’s A-to-Z Challenge. The background is from Ezra Jack Keats’ Over in the Meadow. The child is from The Silly Sheepdog by Heather Amery and Stephen Cartwright. The bee (and maybe the spider, but I’m not sure) is(are) from A Trip to the Yard, pictures by Marjorie Hartwell and Rachel Dixon.


The Spelling Award

me — in 3rd grade (maybe it was 4th)

In 3rd grade (maybe it was 4th)
I won the spelling award.
I thought Jack Harvey would win it
When they called my name, I was floored.

Shocked. Delighted. Astounded
That I had scored higher than Jack
But the biggest bombshell of all
Was seeing my dad in the back.

When the principal called out my name,
I was startled and caught by surprise
But I walked to the front of the gym
To collect my certificate prize.

Then I turned to walk back to my seat —
And I was caught by surprise once more.
Could that really be my father
Framed in that far back door?

He had left the hospital early –
The nurses, patients, and staff –
To squeeze in the crowd at the elementary gym
Because his daughter could spell giraffe.

Now beating Jack Harvey was one thing
And ’tis a good thing to know how to spell
But knowing your father is proud of you
Well, that’s just pretty darn swell.


O is for Old

A Poem for Interns and Residents

To you, he is an old man
With hoary head and feeble mind
But look beneath the surface —
It may surprise you what you find

To you, he’s one who stutters
And struggles to find words
He knows the things he wants to say
But it’s like catching birds

To you, he oft repeats himself
In telling about his life
To me, his most repeated act
Was daily visits to his wife

To you, he’s hard of hearing
And he wears the yellow socks
That signal he’s a fall risk.
To you, he talks and talks
But you don’t listen —
You don’t know him —
You don’t care the way I do.
To you, he’s just some patient.
Oh, how I wish you knew!


In defense of young doctors, they really don’t know any better.

Plus, during this most recent hospitalization, my father kept throwing red herrings at them as he tried to diagnose himself for them.

My low point yesterday was sitting in the office of a woman I didn’t know terribly well, and bursting into tears. I simply wanted someone who knew my father to take care of him.

Medicine has changed SO much in the past 50 years.

I’m thankful there are still people there who know and love my father like I do.

People who know him love him