The Hound Of Heaven is a 182 line poem written by Francis Thompson and published in 1893.The title was daring and intriguing and deliberately so: You see many could accept a title like "The Hound Of Hell" as humans have a fixed mentality that God is good and all correction and discipline is bad and cannot be God! Wrong big time! God is your daddy,(ABBA) .. not your sugar daddy!
God is at work in the life of every one reading this little blog:Yes He's crazy in love with us but that means He diciplines us as His own: He even employs some rather nasty characters to carry into effect that discipline. Not nice at all!
Paul is given as our pattern in this life (1 Tim 1:15-16) and his life was full of challenges, beatings, loss of friends and even stoned once and left for dead.It all started for him, and for each one who is a believer, in falling off our horse: That horse is of course the old self life, the Ego which must be crucified:
God is at work in the life of every one reading this little blog:Yes He's crazy in love with us but that means He diciplines us as His own: He even employs some rather nasty characters to carry into effect that discipline. Not nice at all!
Paul is given as our pattern in this life (1 Tim 1:15-16) and his life was full of challenges, beatings, loss of friends and even stoned once and left for dead.It all started for him, and for each one who is a believer, in falling off our horse: That horse is of course the old self life, the Ego which must be crucified:
This poem is my account of Normal Christian Life in 2017. I'm sure you too have a story to tell! (Gal 2:20)
"One day I hit the ground and stopped and ceased to be ..
and found, like Paul, I'd been tumbled from my horse.
Disaster followed by prayer after pleading prayer:
Oh to rise and ride again and win again the love
and honour of other exalted parcels of clay!
But No! He stripped me as I lay helpless on the ground
and I was strengthened only to succumb to his plans.
The hound of heaven haunted and harangued me
without a crumb of lasting comfort;
save a still small voice of revelation, that grew and grew
and lighted the dark suicidal pathways of my dreams.
The horse of power slipped away
I couldn't do a blessed thing!
Followed by every stray and untamed filly
neighing down the inner valleys of my sleepless hours!
Horses of the intellect and prestige and honour:
Shamed until I knew the peace of being un-shameable
What more could happen .. sorry thought!
For it did happen ... as fondest friends forsook.
The pain horrific as the brain sought reasons
and purpose and plans ...
Job was my food as I plodded onwards saying..
"Tomorrow I will wake and all will be well"
But all those fleshy tomorrows were but empty shells.
Still piloting by the hearing of my ears
and longing for that vision that would spell an end to Ego
Until I learned from one who emptied himself of all: (Phil 2:6-8)
Divested .. stripped of all honour and glory and innocence:
And He who knew no sin became empty and
useless and without purpose ................
except to fill Joseph of Arimathea's grave,
and so fulfill the Fathers will.
And only then "the joy that was set before him"
... as jewel after jewel was displayed
upon the dark clothy canvas of His Calvary
billions upon billions of exquisite human jewels
Brilliant after the travail of his soul ..(Isa. 53:11)
and he was satisfied!
and now as member of that body..
and connected to the Head by joints and bands
and nerve ends
I too am privileged to taste for a moment
Baptism into his pain ..... (Phil 1:29)
(before the Thessalonian curtains finally go up, (1 Thess. 4:15-18)
..then reign with Him for endless eons of joy"
The suffering of Jesus are presented in a new way in
this song sung to a famous Irish air.
Just CLICK here.
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