Missionary Peter told our class that "Jesus, the very thought of Thee" was in the lips of Crusaders, even as they marched into the Middle East, leaving a trail of death and mayhem that would taint His name for centuries.
There is nothing wrong with the theology of St Bernard of Clairvaux's song. It sounds 'hedonese' to me. But it reminds us that our gospel proclamation is seriously defective if we care nothing for peace, social reconciliation, racial harmony and political process where the voice of oppressed gets heard via non-violent means... especially in this increasingly-violent 'global village'.
Words: Bernard of Clairvaux, twelfth century;
trans. Edward Caswall, 1849
Jesus, the very thought of thee
with sweetness fills the breast;
but sweeter far thy face to see,
and in thy presence rest.
No voice can sing, no heart can frame,
nor can the memory find,
a sweeter sound than Jesus' Name,
the Savior of mankind.
O hope of every contrite heart,
O joy of all the meek,
to those who fall, how kind thou art:
how good to those who seek!
But what to those who find? Ah, this
nor tongue nor pen can show;
the love of Jesus, what it is,
none but who love him know.
Jesus, our only joy be thou,
as thou our prize wilt be;
in thee be all our glory now,
and through eternity.
There is nothing wrong with the theology of St Bernard of Clairvaux's song. It sounds 'hedonese' to me. But it reminds us that our gospel proclamation is seriously defective if we care nothing for peace, social reconciliation, racial harmony and political process where the voice of oppressed gets heard via non-violent means... especially in this increasingly-violent 'global village'.
Words: Bernard of Clairvaux, twelfth century;
trans. Edward Caswall, 1849
Jesus, the very thought of thee
with sweetness fills the breast;
but sweeter far thy face to see,
and in thy presence rest.
No voice can sing, no heart can frame,
nor can the memory find,
a sweeter sound than Jesus' Name,
the Savior of mankind.
O hope of every contrite heart,
O joy of all the meek,
to those who fall, how kind thou art:
how good to those who seek!
But what to those who find? Ah, this
nor tongue nor pen can show;
the love of Jesus, what it is,
none but who love him know.
Jesus, our only joy be thou,
as thou our prize wilt be;
in thee be all our glory now,
and through eternity.
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