For me, truth is the key in the lock of life.
Do we all need an editor? (I know I do.)
The salient point;
The point on which all things turn.
Mankind? Man-unkind!
Wednesday 29 April 2015
Sunday 12 April 2015
'On His Blindness' by John MIlton
This is my second favourite poem in all the world.
Like 'Everyone Sang', it was from our school syllabus and I have always loved it.
On His Blindness
When I consider how my light is spent
Ere half my days in this dark world and wide,
And that one talent which is death to hide
Lodg'd with me useless, though my soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest he returning chide,
"Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?"
I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent
That murmur, soon replies: "God doth not need
Either man's work or his own gifts: who best
Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state
Is kingly; thousands at his bidding speed
And post o'er land and ocean without rest:
They also serve who only stand and wait"
What is it about these words that makes them so moving? How can we even begin to comprehend this great poet's burning desire to create, to fulfil his talent, despite his failing sight and his anguish at the prospect of such a terrible loss? To need someone as his scribe, to amend and retouch by having to listen to someone else read his work to him over and over again must have been desperately hard for him to bear.
His thoughts, as expressed in the middle section, from the words "to serve therewith my maker" to "exact day labour", do not reflect my own picture of God, I must say. Much as I feel this desire to write my own bits and pieces and much as I believe in God, the God I believe in is neither a chiding nor an exacting God; absolutely the reverse in fact.
I'm not even sure about "who best Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best." I cannot visualise God as placing yokes upon us but see our trials and difficulties as coming from the vagaries of our individual circumstances and choices and many other complex and probably unknowable aspects of our lives.
My belief is that by just living our lives and doing our best as often as we can, we achieve what really matters, both for ourselves but, even more so, for God, our all- and ever-loving parent.
The last line, of course, says everything; what an unbelievable consolation for us all but, let us hope, most especially for Milton.
Like 'Everyone Sang', it was from our school syllabus and I have always loved it.
On His Blindness
When I consider how my light is spent
Ere half my days in this dark world and wide,
And that one talent which is death to hide
Lodg'd with me useless, though my soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest he returning chide,
"Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?"
I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent
That murmur, soon replies: "God doth not need
Either man's work or his own gifts: who best
Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state
Is kingly; thousands at his bidding speed
And post o'er land and ocean without rest:
They also serve who only stand and wait"
What is it about these words that makes them so moving? How can we even begin to comprehend this great poet's burning desire to create, to fulfil his talent, despite his failing sight and his anguish at the prospect of such a terrible loss? To need someone as his scribe, to amend and retouch by having to listen to someone else read his work to him over and over again must have been desperately hard for him to bear.
His thoughts, as expressed in the middle section, from the words "to serve therewith my maker" to "exact day labour", do not reflect my own picture of God, I must say. Much as I feel this desire to write my own bits and pieces and much as I believe in God, the God I believe in is neither a chiding nor an exacting God; absolutely the reverse in fact.
I'm not even sure about "who best Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best." I cannot visualise God as placing yokes upon us but see our trials and difficulties as coming from the vagaries of our individual circumstances and choices and many other complex and probably unknowable aspects of our lives.
My belief is that by just living our lives and doing our best as often as we can, we achieve what really matters, both for ourselves but, even more so, for God, our all- and ever-loving parent.
The last line, of course, says everything; what an unbelievable consolation for us all but, let us hope, most especially for Milton.
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