More Musical Notes

We went to a performance of Faure’s Requiem yesterday. The first time I heard it was when I was 15 and playing around with our new CD-Rom Encyclopedia that allowed you to listen to audio recordings. Being new to the world of computers (previously, our technology had been an Apple II C. Those are fun for playing Frogger on, but that’s pretty much their limit), I spent quite a bit of time playing with the Encyclopedia. Somehow I stumbled upon Faure and listened to a clip from the Sanctus movement of his Requiem. It made me cry. I was like a new convert – I had to tell everyone about this new discovery. Now I own the CD, and I still like to tell people about it. 🙂

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Things You Need to Know

When you see steam coming out of Mommy’s ears and her face doing
strange and funny things, that is a signal to be *very* quiet.

You thought the steam out of the ears was a danger signal, but apparently, you really need to watch out for the hands on the hips.

Bonnet Tip Powerline.

This just slays me, it really does. I was hooting and hollering and reading excerpts to anybody who would sit long enough to let me catch my breath.

Come back and I shall taunt you another time, you silly, English K-niggets. Perhaps I shall even put my hands on zee hips. Yes, both of zem.

(If you don’t get this reference, don’t ask).

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Quote for the Common-Place Book

Thou hast set my feet in a large room should be the glad cry of every
intelligent soul. The question is not, -how much does the youth know? … but
how much does he care? and about how many orders of things does he
care?–Charlotte Mason

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Television, more dangerous than we knew

I forget whether it was Pipsqueak or JennyAnyDots who at the age of nine told us that she didn’t want to do her schoolwork in the same
room where a movie was playing because she “might get extracted.”

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Sweet Hour of Prayer


Sweet hour of prayer! sweet hour of prayer!
that calls me from a world of care,
and bids me at my Father’s throne
make all my wants and wishes known.
In seasons of distress and grief,
my soul has often found relief,
and oft escaped the tempter’s snare
by thy return, sweet hour of prayer!


Sweet hour of prayer! sweet hour of prayer!
the joys I feel, the bliss I share
of those whose anxious spirits burn
with strong desires for thy return!
With such I hasten to the place
where God my Savior shows his face,
and gladly take my station there,
and wait for thee, sweet hour of prayer!


Sweet hour of prayer! sweet hour of prayer!
thy wings shall my petition bear
to him whose truth and faithfulness
engage the waiting soul to bless.
And since he bids me seek his face,
believe his word, and trust his grace,
I’ll cast on him my every care,
and wait for thee, sweet hour of prayer!


Sweet hour of prayer! sweet hour of prayer!
May I thy consolation share,
Till, from Mount Pisgah’s lofty height,
I view my home and take my flight:
This robe of flesh I’ll drop and rise
To seize the everlasting prize;
And shout, while passing through the air,
“Farewell, farewell, sweet hour of prayer!”

Text: William Walford, 1772-1850
Music: William B. Bradbury, 1816-1868

Scroll down the page on this site to hear an old fashioned congregational singing of the first, third, and fourth verses. The Deputy Headmistress would prefer to sing only the first thru third verses, but the musical presentation is just the way the Headmistress likes it- with lots of alto.:-D

Background information– The lyrics appeared in the September 13, 1845 edition of the New York Observer, accompanied by an introduction by Thomas Salmon, who said W. W. Walford was a blind preacher “of strong mind and most retentive memory” who

“…actually sat in the chimney corner, employing his mind in composing a sermon or two for Sabbath delivery, and his hands in cutting, shaping and polishing bones for shoe horns and other little useful implements. At intervals he attempted poetry.”

Mr. Salmon says that one of his visits to Mr. Walford, Walford

“…repeated two or three pieces which he had composed, and having no friend at home to commit them to paper, he had laid them up in the storehouse within. “How will this do?” asked he…”

Sweet Hour of Prayer was one of those poems.

And now we “hasten to the place
where God our Savior shows his face,
and gladly take our station there,
and wait for thee, sweet hour of prayer!”

Have a blessed Lord’s Day!

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