IT'S A TOWN THAT IS IN SOME MOURNING - A FINE MAN, DID ALL KINDS OF THINGS FOR THE COMMUNITY; ONE WAS PUTTING ON THE WINTER FESTIVE PROGRAM. HE WENT TO MANHATTAN ONE DAY, FOR SOMETHING SPECIAL, BUT NOBODY KNEW WHAT IT WAS.
THE DAY HE LEFT WAS SEPTEMBER 11TH AND YES IT WAS 2001.
HE NEVER RETURNED.... THEY, THE TOWNS FOLK, PRETTY WELL KNEW WHY HE NEVER RETURNED. BUT IT WAS MONTHS LATER HIS WALLET WAS FOUND AT GROUND ZERO - THEY KNEW FOR SURE NOW WHY HE DID NOT RETURN; BUT THEY DID NOT KNOW WHY HE WENT....SOMETHING SPECIAL THEY THOUGHT FOR HE NEVER WENT TO NEW YORK.
THE ANGELS PERSUADED THE LADY MAJOR THAT THE PAGEANT SHOULD GO ON, EVEN IF IT WAS JUST TO HONOR THEIR BELOVED MAN WHO SERVED AND DID SO MUCH GOOD FOR THEIR COMMUNITY.
THE TOWN PEOPLE CAME; THE PAGEANT PROCEEDED.
THEN THE MAJOR'S RIGHT HAND MAN CAME UP AND SAID, THIS WAS THE GIFT OUR MAN WANTED TO GIVE THEM.
YOU HEARD SOME DRUM BEATS, THEN THE SOUND OF A TRUMPET CUTTING THROUGH THE AIR LIKE A KNIFE CUTTING A WEDDING CAKE. SOFT VOICES BEGAN TO SING, AND A GROUP OF MEN AND WOMEN MARCHED IN, THE SINGING GOT LOUDER AND LOUDER.
WHAT WAS THE SONG?
AH, I LOVE MANY FINE HYMNS, BUT THE SONG THE CHOIR [IT WAS THE MORMON TABERNACLE CHOIR, THE BELOVED MAN'S GIFT TO THEM] WAS SINGING.....THE SONG.... I LOVE MANY HYMNS, BUT THIS ONE HAS TO BE IN MY TOP 5 HYMNS OF ALL TIME:
BATTLE HYMN OF THE REPUBLIC
The words are:
Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord;
He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored;
He has loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword;
His truth is marching on.
Refrain
Glory, Glory, Hallelujah! Glory, Glory Hallelujah! !
His truth is marching on
Verse
He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never sound retreat;
He is sifting out the hearts of men before the judgment seat;
O be swift my soul to answer Him be jubilant my feet!
Our God is marching on.
Refrain
Verse
Sing quietly and slower:
In the beauty of the autumn Christ was born across the sea;
With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me;
[louder] As He died to make men holy let us live to make men free!
[loud and original speed] While God is marching on.
Refrain
YOU GET A CHOIR SINGING THIS AND IT IS SOUL STIRRING; IT IS MAGNIFICENT!!
From the book "Spiritual Moments With The Great Hymns" by Evelyn Bence
The Battle Hymn of the Republic
Julia Ward Howe, 1819-1910
Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord;
He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored.
Julia Ward Howe had an eye for spotting injustice, evil, man's inhumanity to man. From Boston she and her husband, Samuel, edited The Commonwealth, an abolitionist (Free Soil) paper.
They did more than print words. They helped fugitive slaves. As a young man Dr. Howe, a surgeon, had gone to Greece to help with "war relief"; he was the first director of America's first school for the blind. And Mrs. Howe was the first president of the New England Woman Suffrage Association. They supported Dorothea Dix in her campaign for social reforms on behalf of the mentally ill. Dr. and Mrs. Howe— among the cultural elite of their day—identified a long list of social wrongs in need of righting.
And their God was growing impatient, angry—"on the march"—because good Christian men and women were not.
Julia wrote "Mine Eyes Have Seen the Glory" at the prompting of a pastor friend. In April 1861 Confederate troops had attacked Fort Sumter in South Carolina. Lincoln had mustered federal troops and called for a naval blockade of Southern states. In July Union soldiers had run in retreat out of Manassas, Virginia, just west of Washington. A "rebellion" was beginning to look like war. In December the Howes, their friend, and the governor of Massachusetts traveled to Washington. On that trip they were invited to visit and review troops camping outside the District. The guests spent the night in a tent, near soldiers sitting at campfires singing the popular "John Brown's Body." It seems the pastor noted that such a good tune deserved more inspiring words. Might Mrs. Howe—an established poet— want to work up something better? That very night—writing in the dark, unable to sleep—she "saw the glory"; the Lord had "loosed the fateful lightning of his terrible swift sword."
In February 1862 the six-verse poem (two verses are virtually never printed) was published in the Atlantic Monthly, where an editor titled it "The Battle Hymn of the Republic." A Union chaplain taught the song to troops, and it swept the North like an epidemic.
I marvel at the survival of this highly unusual, graphic song: God trampling grapes of wrath (see Isaiah 63), sifting hearts, marshaling a menacing army; you'd better watch out. It's staying power might be credited to its powerful melody. But you don't hear the Mormon Tabernacle Choir belting out "John Brown's Body." There's something deeper that speaks to singers and hearers who see injustice and want someone— maybe God, maybe their politicians—to do something to stop it. (The injustice, of course, is always caused by some "other"— an enemy with whom God is angry—not by me or mine.)
It's not surprising that this song crept into Martin Luther King's speeches. The historic march from Selma to Montgomery ended with a King speech now titled "Our God Is Marching On!" And his last public words—the conclusion of a sermon delivered the night before he died—were "I'm not fearing any man. Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord."3 The end of Howe's hymn—as dramatically sung by choirs at state occasions—grows calm as a holy night:
In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea, With a glory in his bosom
that transfigures you and me;
And then you and I—the transformed ones—are challenged by a trick phrasing:
As [Christ] died to make men holy; let us live to make men free.
Let it sink in: Howe isn't calling us to make the world holy; that's God's job. She says our work is about freedom and justice. But there's more: though Howe's wartime original read, "Let us die to make men free," editors long ago changed a word; the song as we now sing it doesn't suggest we die; it dares us to live out the campaign for justice and truth. Doing good. Confronting wrong. Speaking out and standing in for the poor and oppressed. Setting wrongs right. Putting one foot in front of the other.
And I suggest we are able to keep our stride in that freedom march only as we step behind the Lord's blaring trumpet, being fully assured that it "shall never call retreat."
After all, our God is marching on.
-
Lord, make me sensitive to the injustices I see—the ways my fellow brothers and sisters are held captive by the bureaucracies we create that dehumanize men, women, and children whom you created and for whom you died. Help me to see where I can live to make men and women free. But seeing isn't enough. Give me the desire and grace to act—to live out the commission to act justly and love mercy and walk humbly.
.....................
No comments:
Post a Comment