To the Hilt

of pilgrim souls

For those of you who know that I plan to use the name "Pilgrim Soul" in my homesteading ventures, this is a glimpse into the reasoning behind it:

"When You Are Old"

When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

  -- William Butler Yeats

The term pilgrim soul just seemed so fitting for the roving and restless feelings within that are always seeking and on a journey. Yes?

untitled, really

My father was one of the guest speakers at our church's winter camp this past weekend, and his message referenced Psalm 39 at one point. Well, I happened to read over the psalm last night and this passage really stood out for me. I thought I'd share.

"I said, I will take heed to my ways, that I sin not with my tongue: I will keep my mouth with a bridle, while the wicked is before me. I was dumb with silence, I held my peace, even from good; and my sorrow was stirred. My heart was hot within me, while I was musing the fire burned: then spake I with my tongue, LORD make me to know my end, and the measure of my days, what it is; that I may know how frail I am. Behold, thou hast made my days as an handbreadth; and mine age is as nothing before thee: verily every man at his best state is altogether vanity. Selah."
- Psalm 39, verses one through five

on forgiveness

A friend of mine that I haven't heard from (or seen) in months sent me this poem in an e-mail today, and I thought that it aptly described how the last month ended for me. Or rather, where the cycle currently stands. Heh.

"You Are All I Need"
              by David Rivers

Walking in the shadows alone
Half heartedly seeking your face
Stumbling with every turn I make
Desperately needing your grace

A life wrought with failure
I am broken once again
I have grieved Your heart Oh God
I am broken by my sin

Unworthy I fall on my face
Tears begin to flow
My only hope is the cross
For shame is all I know

How many times can you forgive me?
How many times until I see?
That I can't do this alone?
That You are all I need?

I hold out my failures
I hold out all my shame
You reach out and take them
And forgive me once again

Why am I so stubborn?
Why is my heart so cold?
When will I ever burn for you Jesus?
When will I ever be bold?

Jesus I need you desperately
I beg please never leave
I come clinging to You once again
I come crawling on my knees

How many times can you forgive me?
How many times until I see?
That I can't do this alone?
That You are all I need?

I am so weak
I can't do this alone
Please change this cold hard heart
Please soften this beating stone

Pull back the curtain
Let me see your face
Crucify me 'til nothing's left
But the wonders of your grace

Alone I am nothing
With You I have all I need
The only good in me is You Jesus
Forever this will be my plea

How many times can you forgive me?
How many times until I see?
That I can't do this alone?
That You are all I need?

of trust

of endurance

     "The Undiscovered Country" 
            by Edmund Clarence Stedman

        COULD we but know  
The land that ends our dark, uncertain travel,  
  Where lie those happier hills and meadows low,—  
Ah, if beyond the spirit's inmost cavil,  
  Aught of that country could we surely know,          5
        Who would not go?  
  
        Might we but hear  
The hovering angels' high imagined chorus,  
  Or catch, betimes, with wakeful eyes and clear,  
One radiant vista of the realm before us,—   10
  With one rapt moment given to see and hear,  
        Ah, who would fear?  
  
        Were we quite sure  
To find the peerless friend who left us lonely,  
  Or there, by some celestial stream as pure,   15
To gaze in eyes that here were lovelit only,—  
  This weary mortal coil, were we quite sure,  
        Who would endure?

of emily dickinson (part two)

A THOUGHT went up my mind to-day 
That I have had before, 
But did not finish,—some way back, 
I could not fix the year, 
  
Nor where it went, nor why it came         5
The second time to me, 
Nor definitely what it was, 
Have I the art to say. 
  
But somewhere in my soul, I know 
I ’ve met the thing before;         10
It just reminded me—’t was all— 
And came my way no more.

I do believe this summarizes those moments when, upon entering a room, I promptly forget why it was that I came. Or, when a thought strikes me during conversation, and I begin to congratulate myself on so brilliant a thought, that I must remind myself to pay attention to what it is that the other party is speaking of, and in doing so, I lose the thought, chastise myself for losing it, and find myself at a loss for what it was we were discussing in the first place, when it finally becomes my turn to speak.