Monday, 17 November 2008

• Currently Peaceful, the World Lays Me Down 'Shape of My Heart' see related

  For those of you who thought praise music was all crap (hey, I used to be one of you--I understand!), I've got one to convict you of your evil ways.
  Priscilla introduced me to it, and I immediately fell in love with it. I just think it lays out the truths of the gospel so well and provides practical and well-thought out advice for how to praise God.
  
  Enjoy.
  
  
  
  
  I particularly like the line about dancing in your discos and briefs.
  
  ...
  
  Oh, whoops. You thought I was serious?
  
  HAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
  
  I'll attempt to redeem myself now. (:
  
  
  To his Coy Mistress

  by Andrew Marvell

  
  Had we but world enough, and time,
  This coyness, lady, were no crime.
  We would sit down and think which way
  To walk, and pass our long love's day;
  Thou by the Indian Ganges' side
  Shouldst rubies find; I by the tide
  Of Humber would complain. I would
  Love you ten years before the Flood;
  And you should, if you please, refuse
  Till the conversion of the Jews.
  My vegetable love should grow
  Vaster than empires, and more slow.
  An hundred years should go to praise
  Thine eyes, and on thy forehead gaze;
  Two hundred to adore each breast,
  But thirty thousand to the rest;
  An age at least to every part,
  And the last age should show your heart.
  For, lady, you deserve this state,
  Nor would I love at lower rate.
  
          But at my back I always hear
  Time's winged chariot hurrying near;
  And yonder all before us lie
  Deserts of vast eternity.
  Thy beauty shall no more be found,
  Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound
  My echoing song; then worms shall try
  That long preserv'd virginity,
  And your quaint honour turn to dust,
  And into ashes all my lust.
  The grave's a fine and private place,
  But none I think do there embrace.
  
          Now therefore, while the youthful hue
  Sits on thy skin like morning dew,
  And while thy willing soul transpires
  At every pore with instant fires,
  Now let us sport us while we may;
  And now, like am'rous birds of prey,
  Rather at once our time devour,
  Than languish in his slow-chapp'd power.
  Let us roll all our strength, and all
  Our sweetness, up into one ball;
  And tear our pleasures with rough strife
  Thorough the iron gates of life.
  Thus, though we cannot make our sun
  Stand still, yet we will make him run.
  
  
  How my Reformation Day/Halloween was spent--> http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=41109&l=f702c&id=508262691
  
  
  

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