My post this morning was an update about the flooding, but I had planned a different kind of post for this morning. Today marks 13 years since I started this blog. Thank you to all who have read this blog over the years. I have made some wonderful friends who have made significant impacts to on my life, and I am grateful for all of you.
Summer Morn in New Hampshire
By Claude McKay
All yesterday it poured, and all night long
I could not sleep; the rain unceasing beat
Upon the shingled roof like a weird song,
Upon the grass like running children’s feet.
And down the mountains by the dark cloud kissed,
Like a strange shape in filmy veiling dressed,
Slid slowly, silently, the wraith-like mist,
And nestled soft against the earth’s wet breast.
But lo, there was a miracle at dawn!
The still air stirred at touch of the faint breeze,
The sun a sheet of gold bequeathed the lawn,
The songsters twittered in the rustling trees.
And all things were transfigured in the day,
But me whom radiant beauty could not move;
For you, more wonderful, were far away,
And I was blind with hunger for your love.
If you have seen the news, you probably know that there has been a lot of flooding in Northern New York and Vermont. In most of the towns around me, there has been some flooding as the local rivers have overrun their banks. Thankfully, I live on high ground, so I am not in any danger, though what the roads will look like on my way to work this morning is anyone’s guess. I will watch the morning news hoping I will hear more about road conditions.
I picked the above poem because the rain began Sunday afternoon and is supposed to continue through the early hours of this morning. Hopefully, it will have stopped by the time I leave for work. It poured all day yesterday.
About the Poet
Claude McKay, who was born in Jamaica in 1889, wrote about social and political concerns from his perspective as a Black man in the United States, as well as a variety of subjects ranging from his Jamaican homeland to romantic love.
For our citizenship is in heaven, from which we also eagerly wait for the Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ, who will transform our lowly body that it may be conformed to His glorious body, according to the working by which He is able even to subdue all things to Himself.
— Philippians 3:20-21
Never Grow Old
By James Cleveland Moore, Sr.
I have heard of a land
On the faraway strand,
’Tis a beautiful home of the soul;
Built by Jesus on high,
There we never shall die,
’Tis a land where we never grow old.
Refrain:
Never grow old,
Where we'll never grow old,
In a land where we’ll never grow old;
Never grow old,
Where we'll never grow old,
In a land where we’ll never grow old.
In that beautiful home
Where we’ll nevermore roam,
We shall be in the sweet by and by;
Happy praise to the King
Through eternity sing,
’Tis a land where we never shall die. [Refrain]
When our work here is done
And the life crown is won,
And our troubles and trials are o’er,
All our sorrows will end,
And our voices will blend
With the loved ones who’ve gone on before. [Refrain]
This song has been in my head over the past week. Eleven years ago today, my beloved grandmother went to the land where she “will never grow old.” I have always loved this song. To me, it’s just simple and beautiful. Most people are afraid of dying, and while I hope it’s a long way away for me, if we have faith, there is nothing to fear. Heaven is “a land where we never shall die. The third verse may be my favorite:
When our work here is done
And the life crown is won,
And our troubles and trials are o’er,
All our sorrows will end,
And our voices will blend
With the loved ones who’ve gone on before.
I’ll be happy when that day comes because I see again, “the loved ones who’ve gone on before.”
"Never Grow Old" usually refers to an old Southern Gospel song of the same name, technically called "Where We'll Never Grow Old", written by James Cleveland Moore, Sr. on April 22, 1914. I wonder if he knew that in four short months a war would begin in which millions of young men with so much life before them would go the land where they never grow old. It’s hard for me to think of the year 1914 without thinking of what was about to begin in August of that year.
James Cleveland Moore had intended to become a Baptist preacher. He was educated at Draketown Baptist Institute, Mercer University in Macon, Georgia, and the University of Florida. He received musical training. At 26 years old, while a seminary student at Mercer, Moore visited his hometown church to preach at Draketown Baptist Church. His father, Charles Robert Moore, had led the singing for years. Hearing his father's voice failing him, Moore knew that he would not hear his father sing much longer due to his father's advanced age. After returning to school, Moore produced the hymn and dedicated his song as: "Dedicated to My Father and Mother." The song was not published until around 1930.
