King of glory, king of peace
Nov. 22nd, 2009 08:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ancientandmodernSunday next before Advent, and therefore the feast of Christ the King - invented by the Roman Catholic Church in the twenties, and later annexed by the Anglicans, thereby ousting Stir-Up Sunday. I wanted to post Lord, enthroned in heavenly splendour, but I couldn't find it on YouTube, so I thought it was about time we had some George Herbert:
King of glory, King of peace,
I will love thee;
and that love may never cease,
I will move thee.
Thou hast granted my request,
thou hast heard me;
thou didst note my working breast,
thou hast spared me.
Wherefore with my utmost art
I will sing thee,
and the cream of all my heart
I will bring thee.
Though my sins against me cried,
thou didst clear me;
and alone, when they replied,
thou didst hear me.
Seven whole days, not one in seven,
I will praise thee;
in my heart, though not in heaven,
I can raise thee.
Small it is, in this poor sort
to enroll thee:
e'en eternity's too short
to extol thee.
This isn't one of the big, ceremonious hymns with crashy chords, such as one might expect on Christ the King. But then, 'my kingdom is not of this world'. Christ is not the king we expect. An interesting hymn; one that acknowledges that human weakness is such that we need God's help even in praising, in loving God. We do our best; God does the rest. Which sounds terribly cheesy, but there you go. And our best really has to be our best - seven whole days, not one in seven - and there is always more to do. God is God, highest exalted, king of kings (hallelujah! hallelujah!); in the reality that is too great for us to perceive fully, we cannot possibly improve on that, but in our own limited vision there is room for adjustment. In my heart I can raise thee; I can change the way I see things in order to prod them nearer the way they really are.
King of glory, King of peace,
I will love thee;
and that love may never cease,
I will move thee.
Thou hast granted my request,
thou hast heard me;
thou didst note my working breast,
thou hast spared me.
Wherefore with my utmost art
I will sing thee,
and the cream of all my heart
I will bring thee.
Though my sins against me cried,
thou didst clear me;
and alone, when they replied,
thou didst hear me.
Seven whole days, not one in seven,
I will praise thee;
in my heart, though not in heaven,
I can raise thee.
Small it is, in this poor sort
to enroll thee:
e'en eternity's too short
to extol thee.
This isn't one of the big, ceremonious hymns with crashy chords, such as one might expect on Christ the King. But then, 'my kingdom is not of this world'. Christ is not the king we expect. An interesting hymn; one that acknowledges that human weakness is such that we need God's help even in praising, in loving God. We do our best; God does the rest. Which sounds terribly cheesy, but there you go. And our best really has to be our best - seven whole days, not one in seven - and there is always more to do. God is God, highest exalted, king of kings (hallelujah! hallelujah!); in the reality that is too great for us to perceive fully, we cannot possibly improve on that, but in our own limited vision there is room for adjustment. In my heart I can raise thee; I can change the way I see things in order to prod them nearer the way they really are.