Every night and every morn, some to misery are born;
Every morn and every night some are born to sweet delight.
Joy and woe are woven fine, clothing for the soul divine;
Under every grief and pine runs a joy with silken twine.
It is right it should be so: we were made for joy and woe;
And when this we rightly know, safely through the world we go.
Every morn and every night some are born to sweet delight.
Joy and woe are woven fine, clothing for the soul divine;
Under every grief and pine runs a joy with silken twine.
It is right it should be so: we were made for joy and woe;
And when this we rightly know, safely through the world we go.
This is a hymn (#17) by William Blake that we don't often sing, at least in my congregation. Its oldfashioned language cloaks a paradox that is sometimes hard to face or articulate. We prefer to remember the joy and avert our eyes from the pain.
I am remembering this hymn today and singing it in memory of our congregant, Marilyn Saunders, who died last night in a hospice bed in Coupeville WA. May her generous and loving spirit remain with us, as well as her feisty honesty and courageous heart.
Several of us were able to sit in vigil with Marilyn's body for a time last night. We lit a flame in honor of her generous and loving life, shared our memories of our times with her, anointed her with water from our congregation's gathered waters, and said goodbye to her physical self.
Her pain is gone. She is at peace. We celebrate the gifts she brought to our lives and to the world.
I am remembering this hymn today and singing it in memory of our congregant, Marilyn Saunders, who died last night in a hospice bed in Coupeville WA. May her generous and loving spirit remain with us, as well as her feisty honesty and courageous heart.
Several of us were able to sit in vigil with Marilyn's body for a time last night. We lit a flame in honor of her generous and loving life, shared our memories of our times with her, anointed her with water from our congregation's gathered waters, and said goodbye to her physical self.
Her pain is gone. She is at peace. We celebrate the gifts she brought to our lives and to the world.
6 comments:
Well said Ms. Kitty.
William Blake is something of a kindred soul to me.
Interestingly enough the Word Verification Code for this comment is 'ingest'.
Thank you, Robin. I like Blake too, having memorized "The Lamb" and "Tiger Tiger" as a child.
Peace indeed. Blessed be.
And even better, my verification word is "grati"--isn't that Italian or Latin for "free"?
Thanks, Robin, I got a kick out of your adaptation of the Blake poem and I'll post it later. I liked it a lot.
Speaking of adaptations of the Blake poem, it sent me off checking lyrics of The Doors. Sure enough, there is a song that includes the phrase "some are born to sweet delight". But the rest of it is completely different. (it's called End of the Night.)
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