Erlene, I hope this is the hymn you wanted: Carroll Roberson performing All the Glory.
Will anybody mind if I don’t do any news today? We just forked over a $300 car repair bill and i just can’t face any news. My blood pressure is up in the stratosphere again today. It’s coming down now.
I’m in the mood for some cat video.
Today has been just an awful day so far–just now, the cat is coughing a mile a minute, and my wife is fetching her car back from the shop because it wouldn’t work this morning: and so on, and so on–but now I can cope with it, because prayer works.
Once, a few years ago, the landlord and I were bringing a refrigerator upstairs from the cellar, with me at the bottom end. Suddenly my strength was used up. Do you know that feeling? The feeling you get when you are plumb out of strength.
Well, I couldn’t afford to conk out halfway up the stairs with a refrigerator on my back. So I prayed. “Lord, I need more strength and I need it right now!” And He gave me what I needed. Right then and there.
This hymn request is from Linda. Keep ’em coming, folks.
Here is this glorious ancient hymn in its original Irish language–well, Gaelic, at least. Languages can change a lot in 1,300 years.
This is one of those days when I don’t feel much at all like singing: all the more need for it, then. God will hear us, if we raise our voices and lift our hearts to Him.
No more news today!
Thanks, Linda, for suggesting this beautiful hymn. It moves me to tears–but these are tears of inexpressible relief.
Our God is God, and His will shall prevail.
Okay, you powerless minority–let’s start our day with a little marching music: Onward, Christian Soldiers, sung by Tennessee Ernie Ford.
Sorry: that characterization of American Christians as a small, powerless minority–it still rankles with me.
You know the parable of the talents (Matthew 25:14-30), in which the great lord, before embarking on a long journey, gives his servants sums of money and commands them, “Occupy until I come.”
If American Christianity truly is powerless against the onslaught of filth and apostasy, it’s because our churches, like the slothful and unfaithful servant who buried his lord’s money in a hole in the ground instead of putting it to work to earn more money, have failed to occupy. We have not used the talents that Our Lord has given us.
At the risk of getting a reputation for having a wacky blog, I offer this compilation of dogs trying to sit on cats, suggested by reader “LifeIsGood.”
I have no idea why these dogs wish to sit on cats and take so much trouble over it. I’m too big to experiment on my cats. Maybe it’s a dog’s idea of nice upholstery.
Leroy Anderson had this hit tune in 1951, The Syncopated Clock.
I remember it as the theme music of The Early Show, back in television’s infancy. It was also the theme of The Late Show, but I wasn’t allowed to stay up anywhere near that late.
I was whistling this tune at the Y when a man stopped me in the hall. “I’m going nuts,” he said, “trying to remember what that’s called!” When I told him, he was delighted. “Of course, that’s it–The Early Show! I knew I’d heard it before, long ago.”
Long ago indeed.
I feel the need for a cat break.
Here are cats that show every sign of being upset when they’ve been caught doing a no-no. Watching the one cat shred the roll of toilet paper, I wonder whether Mt. Vesuvius has been unjustly blamed for the destruction of Pompeii. Maybe it was cats.
The music for this hymn was written in 1815. Here’s Gary Chapman performing it solo, with guitar.
Do we, the American people, need revival?
Are you kidding? When Jesus came to resurrect Lazarus, Martha protested, “Lord, by this time he stinketh: for he hath been dead four days.” (John 11:390) I don’t know that America is yet entirely dead, spiritually–but certainly she stinketh.
May He who called the dead man out of his grave call us.
Once again we turn to our cats for a dose of sanity.
This red cat in the sink reminds me of our cat, Buster–who once managed to turn a pair of my wife’s panties into a kind of toga, and then posted himself in the living room window for everyone to see.
I must admit he never balanced a Q-tip on his nose, though.