The Lyre Harp

A strain upon a lyre harp

sweeps a sound so low

That only those who gather round

Can catch its sweetness flow,

A strain which takes all suffering

A woman’s heart seems torn

A tune of seeming martyrdom

For her son she mourns

A strain of sadness at the tomb

She searches for her dead

An angel pointing to the skies

Which dawns a crimson red

A strain upon twelve tender hearts

Who sit in upper rooms

And still the strain plays out its tune

From sadness of the tomb

A strain upon a sepulchre

A white robed body lay

The saviour rises, then appears

The rock is rolled away

A strain it sweeps his Mother’s heart

With gladness, faith and joy

And plays its tune eternally

For all who will enjoy

The strain is never ending

Through time and space it plays

Every ernest deed and word

It plays throughout our days

Joseph McTaggart

Psalm 137. By the Rivers of Babylon.

Deep within our mortal minds

We hear her gentle stream

Battles fought ravished by time

Reflect her gentle beams

Starry nights and sun-filled days

Upon her granite poised

Where Prophets prayed upon her banks

O´er shadowed now with noise.

Yet peace she brings with every stone

Where faltering birds do nest

And otters with their children come

To take their peace and rest.

In her divine appointed flow

Good leaves no saddened thoughts

For change is named upon her brow

With no heightened sense of loss.

And by her banks sweet angels flow

Attending to their wards

While we wait, there comes sad moods

With only darker thoughts.

Yet sweet repose and Love are here

For all who hear her song

Far away from bills to pay

And every sense of wrong.

Her gentle flowing higher streams

Do guide us in our thoughts

to a peaceful place of mind

flowing o´er the darker rocks.

Tis good for us to stop and hear

Her gentle peaceful flow

While Angels pass with quieter thoughts

Allowing us to grow.

Joseph McTaggart

The River Clyde

Once a hub of Irish People

Bustling, working on the Clyde

Building ships in ageing dockyards

Lost within long ravished times

And came the gentle touch of Father

With His voice so calm and still

“Trust always the Love of My Son”

“Look always to do his will”.

Powered by Love for food and shelter

To feed displaced families

Faithful tribes of Irish workers

He called to trust with dignity

Deep within the calming waters

Comes new light which shines on man

Of a deeper profound calling

To keep the Faith and take a stand

Now with waters largely silent

Contemplation draws us near

entreating all the generations

To keep our Faith and hold it dear

Blessed Father ever hear us

Protect us just like those gone by

And like our fathers with their calling

Let us ne’er our faith deny.

Joseph McTaggart

The Stoning of Stephen (Book of Acts)

Oh the years without a creed

With stone in hand to hurt and bleed

I thought no Saviour did I need

Twas the same thought aimed at Stephen

Each day began with crowds and fears

Conditioned hatred, screams and tears

With stones in hand I marched up near

Twas the same thought aimed at Stephen

And with fear, in thought and mind,

Other people did I bind

With rage and anger to mankind

Twas the same thought aimed at Stephen

I threw my stones with strength I found

And watched them tumbling to the ground

No power can hurt what God has crowned

Twas the same thought aimed at Stephen

And as I learnt to leave my woes

And trust in God oh sweet repose

Through the Saviour’s blood we know

The example of St Stephen

Joseph McTaggart

Wings of an Angel

Photo by Mario Wallner on Pexels.com

The Saviour’s Love is all embracing,

Give our thoughts to Him above,

His Angels come to lift us higher,

To the Throne of Grace and Love

Gently resting on those feathers,

In the warmth of their embrace,

Rising up our minds from shadows,

To a place of ever Faith.

Like a swan who treads the river,

With her babes not far behind,

A group of Angels soaring upwards,

To raise the thoughts of all mankind.

Yet still within the bliss we protest,

Mistaking pain for downward flight,

Still each thorn it sends us soaring,

Like a child with upward kite

O blessed Angels pointing skyward

Are Life’s tests which come from thee,

Taking us forever higher,

Rising upward by decree.

Without the pain we cannot reach him,

However long? We cannot say,

Long slender fingers promise heaven,

But first our sins must die away.

White robed figures swirl around us,

E’er mistaken for a curse

Rising upward nearing Heaven,

Always better never worse.

When you feel that Life is scourging

Rejoice an Angel does draw near,

Surrender to the journey upwards,

Old beliefs will die with tears.

James McTaggert

Jesus Holding Hands

Isaiah 42:6  (NIV)

“I, the Lord, have called you in righteousness;
I will take hold of your hand.
I will keep you and will make you
to be a covenant for the people
and a light for the Gentiles,

Hold Thou my hand; so weak I am, and helpless,
I dare not take one step without Thy aid;
Hold Thou my hand; for then, O loving Saviour,
No dread of ill shall make my soul afraid.

Hold Thou my hand, and closer, closer draw me
To Thy dear self-my hope, my joy, my all;
Hold Thou my hand, lest haply I should wander,
And, missing Thee, my trembling feet should fall.See the source image

Hold Thou my hand; the way is dark before me
Without the sunlight of Thy face divine;
But when by faith I catch its radiant glory,
What heights of joy, what rapturous songs are mine!

Hold Thou my hand, that when I reach the margin
Of that lone river Thou didst cross for me,
A heav’nly light may flash along its waters,
And every wave like crystal bright shall be.

I first heard this arrangement as a child when my father bought a salvation army band LP with the arrangement on it. Being a child of about 7yrs old I obviously didn’t know the words or who wrote them.  Now that I’m a lot older and have come to know the words and the composer Fanny Crosby I think it makes the arrangement a lot easier to understand. I also think that this particular arrangement is very fitting to Fanny Crosby’s words.

Loving Father walk with me

O loving Father walk with me

Across thy mountain way

Through the trees and thorny paths

From dawn to dusk each day

Help me heal my stubborn pride

Let my mind be still

Bind my own self righteousness

And let me do Thy will

When I err from Thy sweet path

The night comes dark and cold

Hold me in Thy mantle close

And Lead me to Thy fold

And when the storms and mists come down

With all their promised dreams

Keep me on the rugged road

However fair they seem

Teach me to love Thy footpath long

And those I chance to see

Let me follow and rejoice

And greet each one with glee.

J.McTaggert

Different message?

Different message?

Dot's avatarThe Distinct Dot

I was reminded yesterday that even if you’re in the same room as other people, see the same things, hear the same words, and experience the same atmosphere, each person there will probably take different things from what they saw/heard/experienced.

That is why it’s important that when we communicate with others (regardless of the method of communication), it is important that we ensure the message we relate is understood by those receiving that message, simply because we all pick up on different things in different ways.

So in summary, present your message using whatever communication methods you want, but get those you’ve given your message to, to repeat to you a summary of your message. That way, if your message hasn’t been fully understood, you can then present it in a different way, maybe using a different medium, to try to get your message across.

Go and make followers of…

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