butter light

Leave a comment

O who am I…?

My song is love unknown

My Savior’s love to me

Love to the loveless shown

That they might lovely be

O who am I, that for my sake

My Lord should take frail flesh and die?

He came from His blest throne

Salvation to bestow

But men made strange, and none

The longed-for Christ would know

But Oh my Friend, my Friend indeed

Who at my need His life did spend

Sometimes they strew His way

And His sweet praises sing

Resounding all the day

Hosannas to their King

Then “Crucify!” is all their breath

And for His death they thirst and cry

They rise and needs will have

My dear Lord made away

A murderer they save

The Prince of Life they slay

Yet cheerful He to suffering goes

That He His foes from thence might free

Here might I stay and sing

No story so divine

Never was love, dear King,

Never was grief like Thine

This is my Friend, in

Whose sweet praise I all my days could gladly spend

Samuel Crossman, 1664


Leave a comment

the Soli Deo Gloria man meets “the enlightened” man

Gene Veith in his review (Bach’s smackdown) of An Evening in the Palace of Reason: Bach meets Frederick the Great in the Age of Enlightenment shares a interesting collision between self-assertion and beauty for God’s sake:

In 1747, Frederick the Great–the king of Prussia, patron of Enlightenment rationalism, and military strongman–invited Johann Sebastian Bach, now an old man three years from his death, for an audience. Frederick fancied himself a musician and scorned the old-fashioned polyphony that Bach was known for in favor of music with a single pleasant melody. Frederick, who enjoyed humiliatating his guests, had composed a long melody line full of chromatic scales that was impossible to turn into a multi-voiced canon (that is, a “round”: think “Row, Row, Row Your Boat” with different groups starting at different times) and told Bach to turn it into a fugue (an even more complicated “round”). Whereupon Bach, on the spot, sat down at one of the new piano fortes and turned it into a three-part fugue. The flummoxed King said, in effect, OK, turn it into a 6-part fugue. A few days later, Bach sent him a 6-part fugue and more than a fugue, “A Musical Offering” that rebuked Frederick and all of his Enlightenment notions with the Christian faith.

Leave a comment

an old hymn – beautiful still

This morning in the AM worship service we sang the great old hymn “Come Thou Fount.”  There were only 3 verses in our hymn book.  I new something was missing.  Recently, Kristi and I went to a wedding where a duet sang the whole song after the vows were exchanged.  (it was a vocal duet accompanied by a banjo – a little unusual, but it delighted my heart because the words were enunciated so clearly).  As I listened to the wedding duet sing the words, I could feel this rich assurrance of God’s saving grace filling my heart – “How His kindness yet pursues me mortal tongue can never tell” and “O that day when freed from sinning, I shall see Thy lovely face; clothed then in blood washed linen how I’ll sing Thy sovereign grace.”


Here is the whole text of the original song.  Hope it encourages you too.



Come, Thou Fount of every blessing,

Tune my heart to sing Thy grace;

Streams of mercy, never ceasing,

Call for songs of loudest praise.

Teach me some melodious sonnet,

Sung by flaming tongues above.

Praise the mount! I’m fixed upon it,

Mount of Thy redeeming love.


Sorrowing I shall be in spirit,

Till released from flesh and sin,

Yet from what I do inherit,

Here Thy praises I’ll begin;

Here I raise my Ebenezer;

Here by Thy great help I’ve come;

And I hope, by Thy good pleasure,

Safely to arrive at home.


Jesus sought me when a stranger,

Wandering from the fold of God;

He, to rescue me from danger,

Interposed His precious blood;

How His kindness yet pursues me

Mortal tongue can never tell,

Clothed in flesh, till death shall loose me

I cannot proclaim it well.


O to grace how great a debtor

Daily I’m constrained to be!

Let Thy goodness, like a fetter,

Bind my wandering heart to Thee.

Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,

Prone to leave the God I love;

Here’s my heart, O take and seal it,

Seal it for Thy courts above.


O that day when freed from sinning,

I shall see Thy lovely face;

Clothed then in blood washed linen

How I’ll sing Thy sovereign grace;

Come, my Lord, no longer tarry,

Take my ransomed soul away;

Send thine angels now to carry

Me to realms of endless day.


by Robert Robinson, 1758