I am. . . what?
What am I?
Who am I?
And what am I doing?
I sigh alone,
longing for a semblance of
former home.
Coursing tears,
like falling rain drops,
dapple the pillow
where I lay my head.
All of my fears,
like pressing shadows,
scarily cast shadows,
like a bare autumnal tree.
I am. . . what?
I know I should be happy,
but inside I'm not.
I know I should rejoice in Him
who died upon my cross.
I know my life should not revolve
around my selfish fears.
But sometime's I'm so broken
I just want to shed my tears.
Who am I?
I'm helplessly lost.
What am I?
I'm a ransomed one of God's!
How can those
be reconciled again?
I'm happily sad,
yes, happy and sad.
I'm happy in love,
and sad in separation,
but I know that love heals itself.
No matter what
Love is forever
and ever
and ever
and ever,
far past the edge of time.
My long over-due fifth chapter. Please read and review!
Erwin braced himself for an anticipated lecture. Marcus would not be happy, Erwin was sure. Marcus drew quick, short breaths, and Erwin waited. He turned his keys in the ignition and the Toyota jumped to life, and still nothing came. Marcus kept exhaling, as if he was going to say something, and then he would sigh, and his face appeared strangely resigned.
Suddenly, his reaction came like a flood. "I don't understand you, Erwin. How can you turn God into a monster like that? How can you say that not everyone has the spiritual capacity to be saved? Your doctrine demonstrates a heart full of pride and self-importance. To me, you seemed to be bragging." Then he stopped speaking as suddenly as he had begun.
Erwin sent up a silent plea for grace and wisdom in answering. "Marcus, you say I have turned God into a monster. God is loving, yes, but God is also just. He is merciful, but full of holy wrath. I know those two pairs don't seem to go together, but they do, really. God loves holiness, and God must judge sin since it is defiance of His laws. God is merciful, but His mercy will not be with held forever. I would be careful of saying one believes God is a monster just because one believes in election. Those who believe in hell have been accused of turning God into a monster."
Marcus listened in stony silence.
"Your favorite book of the Bible is 1 Peter, isn't it?"
Marcus mumbled "Correct."
"You have memorized a great deal of it, right?" Erwin pursued.
"Yes," Marcus said. "I just finished memorizing the final chapter last week."
Good. Small talk was helping. "Would you please recite the second chapter until I stop you?"
"Certainly. 'So put away all malice and all deceit and hypocrisy and envy and all slander.Like newborn infants, long for the pure spiritual milk, that by it you may grow up into salvation—if indeed you have tasted that the Lord is good. As you come to him, a living stone rejected by men but in the sight of God chosen and precious,you yourselves like living stones are being built up as a spiritual house, to be a holy priesthood, to offer spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ.For it stands in Scripture: “Behold, I am laying in Zion a stone, a cornerstone chosen and precious, and whoever believes in him will not be put to shame.”So the honor is for you who believe, but for those who do not believe, “The stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone,” and “A stone of stumbling, and a rock of offense.”
They stumble because they disobey the word, as they were destined to do.' "
"Okay, stop. The last phrase you said was 'They stumble because they disobey the word, as they were destined to do.' That right there is election. Unbelievers are destined to stumble. They choose in consistency with their character, just like God chooses in consistency with His character."
Marcus opened his mouth to object, but he wasn't sure what to say, so he shut it again. They had reached Marcus' house.
"I'll call you later, Erwin. I want to talk to my father about this."
"Certainly. I'm always open to discussion. Tell your family I said 'Hello!'"
"Alright. Thanks for taking me."
Marcus jumped out of the car, ran up the porch steps, and waved goodbye as Erwin drove homewards.
Milly and Noella gently rustled through the early summer grass together. They held each others hands loosely, and moved on in their solemn errand. They followed a whispering creek to a meadow where several small mounds dotted the sun-warm banks. Noella read the faded markers, but as she read the names, tears came to her eyes in a renewal of pushed-aside grief. Milly knelt by the newest one. As of yet, no stone marked the name of the occupant of the little grave. Surrounding it were other tiny sepulchers-- Tommy, Destiny, Nehemiah, and many others.
"Nine," Milly breathed. "So many!"
Noella caught her breath. "I know," she mournfully intoned. Neither girl said anything many minutes. "I feel so empty." Another long pause. "I hurt most when we sit down to supper, and though everyone is really there, I feel as if these nine are missing, missing, never to be reclaimed till death takes me as well. So silent, so cold. The silent nine."
Noella broke down in racking sobs, and Milly lead her away, both girls with heavy hearts.
Based on a true story, and dedicated to Jackie L., mother of Baby L., and of all the silent nine. Gerich meleth nin!
Chapter Four of my Erwin story. Let me know what you think!
Pastor Davies rose from his high-backed chair. Brushing asside some of the shades, he silently watched Erwin and Marcus clamber into the Toyota. Wordlessly, he re-played the interview in his mind.
Erwin's arguments had been clear, coherent, and concise. Since God is faithful, He is also just. Since He is just, not all agree with His justice, just as not all humans agree with human retribution. Since some disagree, not all can be saved. Since not all can be saved, God welcomes the elect. Point by point, he had built his case soley on the undeniable facts of God's character.
The challanged pastor ran his fingers through his greying hair, and his eye caught two books Erwin had left with him. The first was The Gospel for Real Life, by Jerry Bridges. The second, written by C.J. Mahaney, Christ Our Mediator. Pastor Davies scanned his mental list of books, and did not recall reading either, nor hearing of their authors.
Having nothing better to do, he opened The Gospel for Real Life. Christ Our Mediator, the undeniably shorter of the two, would be an easier read, but Pastor Davies didn't care. But just as he flipped to the first chapter, his cell phone rang. His wife was calling him, so he took the call. By the time he had finished talking, he had decided to put off the reading of the books for a more convenient time. He decided that he had better spend some time in the word and in meditation.
This month, Pastor Davies had purposed to study the Pauline epistles, and as Providence would have it, he was this week studying the letter to the Ephesians.
He began to read, slowly at first, and then excitedly, and with great aggitation. He read the first paragraph silently, then aloud to himself, as if hearing the words might help him.
" 'Paul, an apostle of Christ Jesus by the will of God, To the saints in Ephesus,the faithful in Christ Jesus: Grace and peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in the heavenly realms with every spiritual blessing in Christ.' "
Here he paused, then went back and read the words over again, this time commentating on them in a low tone.
"Paul was an apostle of Christ Jesus by the will of God. That is what Erwin meant when he was talking about sovereignty. Everything that happens is because of the will of God!" He said it feelingly, as if he had never considered it before. He continued on in the passage.
" 'For he chose us in him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in his sight. In love he predestined us to be adopted as his sons through Jesus Christ, in accordance with his pleasure and will. . .' God chose me through Christ's redemption, even before the world was created. I am to be holy and blameless in His sight, too! He predestined me, even adopted me, as His son in accordance with his pleasure and will!! His pleasure! It is in me!"
No longer could Pastor Davies sit still. He ran out of his office and ran into the parking lot. He ran down the road as fast as he could go, his arms out stretched. "Thank you, Lord! Thank you for opening my eyes!" He ran until he stumbled over a crack in the pavement. He looked around. He had been running with his head thrown back, and he now saw that he was at least a mile from his church. Energetically, he quickly retraced his steps. He had a lot of reading to do. There was so much to be done. Two red spots appeared on his cheeks, and he threw himself into study with the strength of a beast. He was flushed and evidently excited. Every now and then, he would look up from a book and mutter mullingly, "I feel like a new person."
--To be continued.
What was Marcus's conversation like with Erwin as they drove homewards? What will Pastor Davies's congregation say about what he discovered in Ephesians? All this and more, coming in the next few chapters.
This afternoon, in light of reflection on a recent conversation with a good friend, I decided to take up running again. I have not run for a very long time, ever since our YMCA membership expired several months ago. I remembered finding a link to a page about running. The plan seemed almost too easy. For the first week's assignment, the inspired athlete is instructed to warm up with a brisk, five minute walk. Then, for the next twenty minutes, to alternate between running for sixty seconds and walking for ninty seconds.
When I ran at the Y on a treadmill, I could easily run at least two six-minute miles, and by the end of this nine week program, the participant would be able to run three ten-minute miles. The goal seemed attainable, if not too easy. So, I whipped my freshly washed shoes (my family has recently taken a series of several muddy hikes) off the patio table, swallowed a quick gulp of water, and figured out how to use my watch's stopwatch.
My house is set at the top of a hill, and is also surrounded by hilly country. J----- Road gently rises and falls, and H---------- Road and K--- Road steeply rise from where they meet that first road. J----- is slightly overshadowed by some crab apple trees growing on its left hand side, but at three o'clock p.m., only small patches of shade overshadow my path.
I began with a great deal of determination. I stretched my legs every step of the way, and I was surprised by how much ground I covered during the five minute warm up. My first sprint began at the "T" intersection of J----- and H---------- Roads. Before I knew it, my stopwatch told me I had run the first minute. Encouraged by my progress, I took a walking break. Several cars drove by, and I wondered if they noticed how happy I was, even though I was jogging in the heat of the day with the intollerable sun beating on my head. Oh, woeful, woeful pride!
The second minute seemed a little longer since it was up one of the rolling hills, but then my walking break releaved me, and provided some shade. I came to where J----- overpasses an interstate, and saw that the bridge was being repaired. Since I was about half way done with the 25 minute toal, I turned around a little early and decided that the I would have to do some extra uphill running to make up for starting homewards early.
By now, thirst, the ever-tireless opponent, was catching up to me during my too-short breaks. I regretted only drinking a smidgin, and resolved that next time, I would take a water bottle with me during my work out. The last thirty seconds of every running minute now seemed to last for a persecuting eternity. Sometimes I ran faster, hoping my feet's speed would effect time. I very nearly went home early, but I determined to keep on forward, ever forward, for the whole twenty-five minutes.
Having recently watched Chariots of Fire, I tried throwing my head back like Eric Liddle did. My only reward was the glaring sun, which by Emily Dickinson's description is like a genteel housewife. By mine, it is a tyrant. I involuntarily stumbled as my steps turned uphill onto K---. Just a few more minutes, I told myself. Just a few more. The last seven minutes dragged, every second seeming to be twice that length to me in my self-imposed infirmity.
I turned around and walked downhill. My walking strides, so long earlier, punished my quaking legs. I felt as if I could throw up. No, I didn't have the strength to do that. I don't know if I had the strength to collapse, even. Dying even seemed a harder alternative than living, so I kept on, running when it was time to run, and walking when it was time to walk.
At exactly seven after three, the appointed end to twenty-five minutes, I set foot on our wonderful driveway. Our dusty, gravel driveway. I somehow managed to sit on an outdoor bench for a few minutes before dragging myself into the house. My stomache was being stabbed with knives, or so I felt. I shakily opened the refrigerator door and opened a can of Sierra Mist, spilling it all over my shirt in my haste for a drink. My dad came home from church and found me sprawled on the basement floor, head leaned agains the cool refrig, shoes off my feet and socks carelessly taken off and lying inside out.
"Did you take Kep on a walk?" he asked tentatively. "No," I managed. "I went running. . ." My dad glanced at me sidelong. "Running?" I shook my head affirmative. "Yes, but I have no idea why!"
At that moment, I was thinking that if there was nothing worse than running uphill in 85 degree weather with no shade. Maybe even wasting a morning shopping when you should be reading Shakespeare was better than that. Maybe even letting your brother rip pages out of your Dictionary would be better than running. Everyone forgetting your birthday would seem like nothing compared to the endless torture of excersising in the middle of the afternoon.
After another ten minutes of rest and Sierra Mist, I mustered up the strength to shower and change. Sitting down here at my computer, that work called "running" seems years away. Maybe it wasn't all that hard. Maybe Ian is right, "It's all in your head." My mom wants to take me shopping tomorrow afternoon, but maybe I can get out of it if I tell her I need to go running. After all, she didn't hear anything about my embarrasing encounter with the road.
On second thought, running isn't nearly all that bad. Worse things could happen. Hilary Clinton could become president. Mikey D. could take over the world. My cat might get into the freezer and eat all the mint chocolate chip ice cream. Or, horror or horrors, I could get a 93% on my literature test. Now that would be reallybad!! Anyways, tomorrow I might go running at one o'clock instead of waiting till three forty-one. I bet I could get a better sun tan, at least. That'd be a good compensation.
Hmm-- on third thought, nah. My mom and I bought some pretty brown fabric this morning, and now we're pre-shrinking it. I think tomorrow we'll sit down at the sewing machine and make a pair of gauchos. Yeah. Now that's a good plan. Forget about running. . . forever!!
I hope you enjoy this song. The memories I have of driving up to Alta Canyon in Utah with my brother and the W.'s are priceless! This song playing brings back such memories of Utah. But I'll let you enjoy the movie!
This is a continuation of the previous two chapters of my story about Erwin and Marcus. If you haven't read the first two chapters, please do so now. I invite you to read and review!
The next morning dawned, chilly and damp. Gray clouds forebodingly amassed overhead as Erwin drove his car to Marcus's house, and then to Crossroads Church. [A fictional church made up for the purpose of the story.] The church seemed empty compared to the frenzy of young people that had packed every nook and cranny the previous night.
Marcus lead Erwin through a phalynx of hallways and corridors to Pastor Davies' office. The pastor smiled as they entered, and asked them to be seated in the black leather-covered chairs in front of his polished oaken desk. After some small talk, Pastor Davies cleared his throat.
"I read the interesting letter you gave me last night, Erwin. I was much puzzled by its contents. Surely you do not really think that what you said is true?" he inquired.
"No, sir, I don't. I hope you don't, either. The song was not in response to your devotional, but referred to one of the songs we sang. I believe it was called 'I Give You Freedom.'"
"Ah, yes. That song is one of my favorites," Pastor Davies said, smilingly.
"Then you do, in fact, believe the garbage I wrote in my letter?" Erwin pressed.
"I never said that!"
"But if you like such a song," Erwin pressed, "then you must agree with the letter."
"In what way?" the pastor asked, obviously astonished.
"The song we sang taught that even though God has created everything and has a thourough knowledge of His creation, He has no power of the fates of men. Would you disagree that such a belief is not biblical nor logical?"
A flash of understanding passed over the older man's face. "I now see your point. I have a question for you now. Do you believe that you chose to be saved, or do you believe in election."
"I believe in the faithfulness of God," Erwin replied carefully.
"Please explain your answer," said Pastor Davies, as he sat back in his chair.
"God's nature is adversely opposed to sin, correct? Because of that, He must judge sin. God's nature is also one of faithfulness, in more ways than one. God's nature is also holy, and He requires perfection on the part of all His followers. The way we can obtain perfection is through repenting from our sin and believing in Jesus' sacrifice as payment for our sins."
"How does this answer the question of election?"
"It is because of His faithfulness that God must predestine each believer instead of one excersising free will."
Erwin ripped the letter out of his notebook and nervously worked his way towards the front. Marcus was singing and enjoying himself, and hardly noticed that his friend was "going forward." Erwin gave half-a-thought to the idea of asking Marcus to go with him, but then decided against it. Better only get the speaker mad at one person than two.
Erwin slipped into the second row pew and patiently waited for the speaker to whisper something into the ear of every teenager who had come forward. He folded, unfolded, and re-folded his letter, trying to calm his nerves and settle the butterflies in his stomache. Erwin bowed his head and stared at his hands. He probably should have clipped his finger nails a few days ago, but that didn't matter now. It was too late to think about the length of his finger nails.
Almost before he knew it, Pastor Davies was in front of him. "Hello, son," he said in a low voice. "What has God laid upon your heart tonight?"
Erwin took a deep breath, and thought, Here goes nothing.
"Sir, I wanted to speak to you. This isn't necessarily about your sermon, but I have a . . . concern about the music . . . a particular song that was sung is bothering . . . well, I think it's unbiblical." There. At least the hard part was over.
"I see," said Pastor Davies. "I don't have time to discuss it with you right now, but perhaps we could meet tomorrow, if that is all right with you?"
Erwin bobbed his head, grateful that at least Pastor Davies was open. "Here," he said, handing the pastor his letter. "This might explain how I feel to you, so that you already know where I stand before we meet."
"Good. How does 11:00 tomorrow morning sound? If not, I think I am available later than 3:00 in the afternoon."
"Eleven o'clock sounds great."
"All right. What was your name?"
"Erwin. Erwin Duddley."
Pastor Davies scribbled Erwin's name down on a sticky pad, and handed Erwin his card in case Erwin needed to change the appointment. Erwin shook his hand, thanked him, and went to find Marcus.
Marcus's face lit up as Erwin approached. "There you are! I've been looking all over for you! Mack invited us over to spend the night. Can you come?"
Erwin shook his head. "No thanks. I need to do some research tonight, and my mom needs help with chores tomorrow morning. I'd better head home."
"Okay. I'm glad you could come tonight. I hope you had a great time! I know I did."
"Yeah, sure. Thanks for inviting me. I'm coming back to talk to Pastor Davies tomorrow."
"Really? That's great! Mind if I come along?"
"If you want. I'll pick you up at 10:50 tomorrow if you like."
"Sweet! Pastor Davies is such a godly man. I'm sure we'll have a great meeting with him. He knows the Word so well."
"Okay, well I'll see you tomorrow, Marcus."
"Bye Erwin!"
Fighting his way through the packed ampitheater was not easy, and Erwin was releaved when he finally reached the parking lot. The night was cool, inky and dark, and the stars shone like pale jewels in the sky. His wine-red Toyota was easy to find near the edge of the parking lot, and within a few minutes, he was home.
1) How many bibles do you own? Three that I use on a regular basis.
2) What is/are your most prized possesion(s)? My family and friends, as well as my Bible and journals.
4) How many CDs do you own? Le'see-- one Darby Hughes, two Sovereign Grace, four Tschaikovski, four LotR, one Pirates, one Halo. . .
5) How old were you when you accepted Christ as your Savior and then became baptized? 5 and 9.
6) Stand up, close your eyes, take 2 steps to the left, 1 backwards, and spin around 3 and a half times. what do you see? It would have been much more efficient to say "spin around one and a half times," but whatever. A Schwinn stationary bicycle.
7) If any, what books are you currently reading? The Bible, The Book of Mormon, The Gospel for Real Life, The Children of Hurin, and a Literature textbook.
8) Are you getting bored yet? Yes, since my brother is gone, and there is nothing to do but answer tag questions.
9) Are you annoyed yet? Exceedingly. The grammar of whoever first publishes these quizzes is horrible! And so is his counting! (Hehe-- where did you learn to count? McDowwel High School? :D)
10) How about now? See above.
11) Now? Ditto.
12) Now? Likewise.
13) Now? Could you repeat the question?
14) Have you noticed anything odd about the numbers yet? Of course not. I edited them.
15) Do you think I'm wierd? Who are "you"?
16) Whom would you like to tag? Leah Daisy, and James SB if he has time.
Part one of a short story. Tell me what you think!
People writhed and wriggled all around the vast auditorium. Everywhere Erwin looked he saw people, people, people! Gradually, the black streams shuffled into the pews and took their seats, but it was still a living and moving mass of bodies. The noise of the thousand-plus teens was deafening.
Erwin's friend, Marcus, tapped him on the shoulder. Marcus's mouth moved, but Erwin could not discern the words above the noise, and Marcus finally gave up talking.
The service started with many rigorous songs. Erwin loved the noise of the powerful swelling of the hundreds of voices in the acoustic room. The music, like the people, seemed to be alive. Then the band began to play an unfamiliar song. Erwin listened, reading the words as they appeared in the Power Point presentation.
I own the cattle on a thousand hills
I write the music for the whippoorwills
Control the planets with their rocks and rills
But give you freedom to use your own wills
And if you want me to make you whole
I'll only do it though if you say so
I'll never force you, for I love you so
I give you freedom, is it yes or no?
Erwin was disgusted. The God portrayed by this song made him want to retch. This God was not his God. This God had power over His Creation, but not over the humans made in His own likeness. How much more demeaning can a song be, Erwin wondered.
After the song finished, a man began speaking, but Erwin could hardly listen. He was too busy thinking about the Gospel and how blatantly the song he had just heard denied the truths he held most dear. He opened up his notebook and began to write.
Jesus, Son of God, Redeemer of Mankind, Prince of Heaven:
To YHWY, the Almighty, Father of the Trinity, God of Very God.
Since before we laid the foundation of the world, You and I have had a book of Life. In it, the names of every adopted son or daughter were written in pencil. (This was so that we could erase names when half-hearted followers turned aside.)
After all, what does permanency matter to You and I? They will suffer because of their foolish choice. The only thing I did for them was give my life, which is the supreme offer of love. I was only condemned to the worst, most shameful death. I only bore the scorn and shame of Roman soldiers, Jewish religious officials, and all of Jerusalem and Judea.
I agonized before that horrible death. I moaned in great anguish over the thought of the separation that would come between You and I for that brief time when You transfered all sin to me and I gave up My spirit at last.
At last, I was glorified after my death. I rose and conquered Satan, who tried to usurp Us from our rightful authority, before ascending to heaven. You have promised to make every knee bow and every tongue confess that I am Lord because this will bring more glory to Our Great Name.
Of course, the people who have lost salvation present a problem to this. They once bowed the knee, but now they don't. Ultimately, though, they will acknowledge me, whether this is before or after death we really cannot say. For if we thought they served us and really did not, to wit this shows rejection of Our intelligence.
Maybe we should have written those names in ink instead of pencil.
The speaker finally finished and gave and altar call. As that song-- that horrible song-- was sung again, Erwin decided to present the speaker with his personified letter from Jesus to God.
A God-exalting father sets his eyes upon the Lord;
He daily dives into the word, keeps sharp his treasured sword.
Regarding earthly gain as only loss in view of God,
Surpassing predecessors, finding paths by no one trod.
A God-exalting father burns with passion for the lost;
He doesn't compromise his faith, no matter what the cost.
I pray to God I'll find a husband who will ever be
A daddy to our children like the one you've been to me!
The towering cliffs hem my soul with despair
"Oh, Father, where are You? oh Lord, don't You care?"
The questions surround me with doubts ever new
I can't find my true self, I seem lost e'en to You.
White-flower pain! why is the reason?
White-flower pain! when ceaseth this season?
White-flower pain! who understands?
White-flower pain! some thing demands.
The blackness surrounds me, I'm cold and afraid.
"Oh, Lord, please, I'm struggling! oh, please, don't upbraid."
I'm sure that I'll find myself somewhere in You:
For that's where I lost first pain-- hiding in You.
White-flower pain! God claims the glory.
White-flower pain! a beautiful story.
White-flower pain! questions soon fade.
White-flower pain! You're love purveyed.
I once was a blind soul, but now I can see,
And once Satan bound me, but now I'm set free.
The Love of the Lord has adopted this child:
Through perfect redemption I've been reconciled!
White-flower pain! I'm drowned with blessing.
White-flower pain! I'm now progressing.
White-flower pain! Jesus' pain.
White flower pain! It brought me gain.
1) What it your nickname? I have a bunch: Hurricane, Juju, Nella, and Ian's sister.
2) Favorite Sport? Soccer.
3) How many people on your AIM buddy list? I dunno about AIM... 97 total.
4) What is the current weather outside? Too hot to ski in, thus, bad.
5) What is your favorite day of the week? The Lord's Day!!
6) What is your favorite video game? I don't play video games other than Armagetron.
7) What is your favorite website? The Rebelution.
8) What is your favorite vacation spot? Indianapolis or Lake Toxaway.
9) My dream car would be . . . a car? Um... one that works??
10) Do you were a watch? Yuppers!
11) What is your favorite chain restaurant? Ich weis nichts.
12) What is your favorite thing to do on friday night? I didn't do anything last Friday night, and even if I did, I'm not allowed to talk about it!
13) Do you have cable? That's debatable.
14) Do you have DSL? That's also debatable. If DSL means "Detestation of Shopping Lists," then yes!
15) What is the longest word you know? Pulchritudinous, or maybe antidisestablishmentarianism...
16) What is your favorite text note? (B) hehe-- don't you all wish you knew?
17) Do you have a myspace? No, not, negative.
18) One random thing about you: I once had a dream that I had a scooter made out of a pickle.
19) One thing I need to survive: My Jesus!
20) Five people to tag: Whoever wants to do it :)
When storms have ceased and joy's restored
And your heart soars away
Give praise to Your exalted Lord
From day to final day;
No gift too precious to afford:
The King deserves the best;
The Lord works in mysterious ways
When our sins we have confessed.
What God hath sown within my heart
He tends with loving care;
This work begun will do its part
In making fit His heir;
His sovereign plan has from the start
Proved His great matchless grace;
Eternally I'll sing His praise
Who all my cares erased.
This song can be sung to the tune of "O Sing a Song of Bethlehem," or any other song in C.M.D meter really, but it was written for that song in particular. I hope you enjoy it! I'm trying to decide whether I like this one or "Fear Not" better.
Original composition, Ednella Sound-Out, May 2007.
I finally had time to record my recent song and poem, Fear Not. I've edited some of the chording since the first time I posted, so it's not the exact same thing as the original, but oh well. Enjoy!
I just want you to hold me close
I've never asked for anything more.
I want to sing a new song, yeah,
A magic song to kill my fears.
Yeah, all I want is to be free!
Free from this passing, hateful world
From all who shove and make me fall
From those whose aim is just thin air
From all around who break their word
And everyone whose faith breathes hard.
I wish to be a child again,
Without a dark cloud in my sky.
Please, take me back to Fairy-Land
And show me dandelion's I blew,
The countless stars I wished upon.
Among the tall milkweed I'd play
While heros chase the beasts away
And you, my jewel, will come to stay
And tell me everything's okay.
Oh, wouldn't that be quite a day?
.
