Holy God, We Praise Your Name

The Whole earth is full of His glory; Isaiah 6:3

Holy God, we praise your name; Lord of all, we bow before you;
all on earth your scepter claim, all in heav’n above adore you.
Infinite your vast domain, everlasting is your reign.

Hark, the loud celestial hymn angel choirs above are raising;
cherubim and seraphim in unceasing chorus praising,
fill the heav’ns with sweet accord: “Holy, holy, holy Lord.”

Lo! the apostolic train join your sacred name to hallow;
prophets swell the glad refrain, and the white-robed martyrs follow;
and from morn to set of sun, through the church the song goes on.

Holy Father, Holy Son, Holy Spirit, Three we name you;
while in essence only One, undivided God we claim you,
and adoring bend the knee, while we sing this mystery.

Words by Ignaz Franz, w. in 1774; translated by Clarence A Walworth in 1853
Music: Katholischches Gesangbuch, Vienna, wr. 1774

Midi File

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Collected Quotes, Quote 2

“Can the liberties of a nation be thought secure when we have removed their only firm basis, a conviction in the minds of the people that these liberties are the gift of God?”
Thomas Jefferson

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Felicitous Find

Some of us went to a library book sale this morning. It was their dollar a bag day. We filled three bags. Actually, we filled two bags, and then had some spill-over into the third bag. Frugal soul that I am, I hated to see all that space go to waste, since I paid a dollar whether the bag was full or empty. A certain gleeful abandon to unmitigated booklust had nothing to do with it, of course.

The Head Girl picked up a delightful book called _Thou Improper, Thou Uncommon Noun_ by William R. Espy.

I chortled over the title page, sighed in delight over the dedication page (‘Learn the right/ of coining words in the quick mint of joy. -Leigh Hunt), and laughed aloud over the acknowledgments section and foreword, calling Equuschick to ‘come and listen to this’ at least five times.

1. “I proceeded to gorge myself on eponymous words like a starving cannibal bolting down a missionary.”

2. “If you want the whole missionary- and I promise you, missionaries taste mighty good- read the books listed in my reference.”

3. In a thanks to his editor, he says “Louise… vetoed a number of my infelicities. She did not, however, lay an impious hand on Benet, Brewer, Britannica,….”

4. Thanking his typist: “Now that my mother is gone, Mignon is the only person who can read my handwriting”

5. From the foreword, by Heywood Hale Broun: “Every writer keeps what used to be called a commonplace book in which he jots thoughts or quotations or useful bits that he may someday stick into his own work. There is among some writers the wistful hope that if one becomes famous the commonplace book can simply be handed to a publisher and sold as the gleanings of a great mind, but for most of us it is just a ragbag in which the thing we need has either simply not been written into the book in the first place, or has been stuck into the pages in clipping form and fallen out somewhere, or is identified with what once seemed like an adequate hint. Such a clue as “See Trollope on l.d.h., page 348″ is at least under T in my notebook, but there organization ceases. If I knew which of the great man’s many novels discussed l.d.h. on page 348 I might then discover what l.d.h. means.”

I haven’t even gotten to the introduction of this work of ‘lexicographic sophistication, but I am In Love.

I believe that this book shall be the price the Head Girl pays me for the gas and time I spent taking to the book sale. 🙂

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Something to Say

As we have mentioned here before, one of our daughters is profoundly retarded. She doesn’t speak and can only sign approximately 20 words right now. She did have more, but she regressed when we moved last. Shifting environments has a deleterious affect upon the mentally retarded, and it will take us some time to bring her back up to her previous accomplishments.

She does laugh, giggle, cry, pout, vocalize with an “I want that” noise and a distinctly different “I don’t want that and don’t you try to give it to me” noise. She makes up signs. Some of them make sense (the sign she made for ‘tea’ looks like somebody shaking out a teabag), and some of them we have never figured out.

Some of her made up signs I think she made up just to make me look bad. She makes these gestures at strangers, and the strangers look at me and say, “What is she saying?” I have to shrug my shoulders and say I don’t know. In fact, even as I type this I think she must be reading my mind, because she is smirking at me. Perhaps she’s not really reading my mind, but only plotting her next trick.

She hides things. Of course, we always catch her, because she’s so pleased with her tricks that she starts giggling while she slowly makes her way to the hiding place she has in mind for somebody else’s precious belonging. We hear that particular giggle and know we should investigate.

She pinpoints what it is that will particular bothersome to a person, and that’s how she teases that person. For the First Girl and I, she finds our books and removes the bookmarks, losing our places. For a sartorially splendiferous friend, she would find his sartorially splendid leather coat, wave it at him in the manner of a bull fighter flourishing a red cape- and drop it on the floor the moment she got his attention. For a pregnant and easily nauseated friend, she would stand firmly in front of her and put her finger up her nose, holding it there and smirking.

When she decides guests have outstayed their welcome, she brings them their car keys and points to the door.

The last time a qualified professional tested her I.Q. we were told that the results of the test indicated that our daughter could not do anything we had taught her how to do, because she was profoundly retarded. I was asked if there was anything specific I’d been trying to teach her that I needed help with (we homeschool, the testing was through the public school). I said, yes, that I wanted her to learn to undo her seatbelt and wasn’t getting very far. They told me kindly that I probably shouldn’t bother. It was a waste of my time and hers, and was not something she would ever be able to do. We left the appointment and drove home. When we pulled up into the driveway, she undid her seatbelt.

She has Cerebral Palsy, too. In her case it’s very mild. It means she walks very slowly and never runs. It means that some of her difficulty with sign and speech might be the C.P. rather than the retardation, but nobody knows for certain. It means she needs a leg brace. If it were worse, it would mean she could barely communicate at all, since nearly all of her communication is so physical. She needs her hands, her arms, her body language, the ability to turn her head this way and that, the facial muscle control necessary to make her smirks, her grins, her self-satisfied little gloating smiles, and her sad faces, her pouty faces, her gloom and despair they won’t give me a cookie faces. I wonder about people like her who don’t have the physical range of motion and expression she does. What do they wish they could say but can’t?

She used to have a t-shirt with a slogan I loved- it said, “Not being able to speak does not mean I have nothing to say.”

Too many people do not believe that. Too many people think life is all about the mind and think very little of the heart and soul.

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Overheard at the Common Room:
The Boy: “Whosits! We’re going to do the experience!
JennyAnyDots: “No, we’re going to do the experiment
The Boy: “We’re going to do the experywent.”
JennyAnyDots: “No, Boy, ex-per-i-ment.”
The Boy: “Es-per-i-went.”
JennyAnyDots: *sigh*


So, we went to the Shedd Aquarium a few days ago. It was wonderful, and here are two pictures:

Those are the absoballyloutly lovelry dolphins, during a training session.

And that is the sea turtle, Nickel. She was badly hurt because a motor boat ran into her, and because of that she has buoyancy problems, which causes her back end to float way higher than her front end.

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