From Havergal to Sherlock?
I really am going to get from Havergal to Sherlock, and it will be a logical progression. But that means this post will be really rambly. Just bear with me.
We sang this hymn by Frances Ridley Havergal in church this morning. I love it so much. Not, perhaps, as poetic as some (I LOVE YOU, COWPER!!!!!!) but simple and straightforward:
My favorite line in the song is "Take my intellect, and use every power as Thou shalt choose." On the one hand it's a scary thought--giving up something I treasure as much as my intellect--but on the other hand, but on the other, it's a wonderful reminder that being a Christian is not giving up your intellect period. It's using it for God.
Anyway, I was thinking about that line, and I remembered this wonderful letter from William Pitt the younger to William Wilberforce, after Wilberforce was converted to Christianity, and seriously considered leaving politics, and living his life out in retirement. I am posting the whole thing, because it is a wonderful letter (why does no one write like that anymore? WHY?) , and because with my kindle, I was able to copy the whole thing out of a book, instead of typing it...which would have taken too long, and because there is something so charming (to me, anyway) in the notion that an 18th century soon-to-be Prime Minister of England called one of his friends "Bob." The only really important quotation is the lj-cut text: "If a Christian may act in the several relations of life, must he seclude himself for all to become so? Surely the principles as well as the practice of Christianity are simple, and lead not to meditation only but to action." But if you love old letters, as I do, you can read the whole thing below it.
My dear Wilberforce,
Bob Smith mentioned to me on Wednesday the letters he had received from you, which prepared me for that I received from you yesterday. I am indeed too deeply interested in whatever concerns you not to be very sensibly affected by what has the appearance of a new era in your life, and so important in its consequences for yourself and your friends. As to any public conduct which your opinions may ever lead you to, I will not disguise to you that few things could go nearer my heart than to find myself differing from you essentially on any great principle.
I trust and believe that it is a circumstance which can hardly occur. But if it ever should, and even if I should experience as much pain in such an event, as I have found hitherto encouragement and pleasure in the reverse, believe me it is impossible that it should shake the sentiments of affection and friendship which I bear towards you, and which I must be forgetful and insensible indeed if I ever could part with. They are sentiments engraved in my heart, and will never be effaced or weakened. If I knew how to state all I feel, and could hope that you are open to consider it, I should say a great deal more on the subject of the resolution you seem to have formed. You will not suspect me of thinking lightly of any moral or religious motives which guide you. As little will you believe that I think your understanding or judgment easily misled. But forgive me if I cannot help expressing my fear that you are nevertheless deluding yourself into principles which have but too much tendency to counteract your own object, and to render your virtues and your talents useless both to yourself and mankind. I am not, however, without hopes that my anxiety paints this too strongly. For you confess that the character of religion is not a gloomy one, and that it is not that of an enthusiast. But why then this preparation of solitude, which can hardly avoid tincturing the mind either with melancholy or superstition? If a Christian may act in the several relations of life, must he seclude himself for all to become so? Surely the principles as well as the practice of Christianity are simple, and lead not to meditation only but to action.
I will not, however, enlarge upon these subjects now. What I would ask of you, as a mark both of your friendship and of the candour which belongs to your mind, is to open yourself fully and without reserve to one, who, believe me, does not know how to separate your happiness from his own. You do not explain either the degree or the duration of the retirement which you have prescribed to yourself: you do not tell me how the future course of your life is to be directed, when you think the same privacy no longer necessary: nor, in short, what idea you have formed of the duties which you are from this time to practise. I am sure you will not wonder if I am inquisitive on such a subject. The only way in which you can satisfy me is by conversation. There ought to be no awkwardness or embarrassment to either of us, tho’ there may be some anxiety: and if you will open to me fairly the whole state of your mind on these subjects, tho’ I shall venture to state to you fairly the points where I fear we may differ, and to desire you to re-examine your own ideas where I think you are mistaken, I will not importune you with fruitless discussion on any opinion which you have deliberately formed. You will, I am sure, do justice to the motives and feelings which induce me to urge this so strongly to you. I think you will not refuse it: if you do not, name any hour at which I can call upon you to-morrow. I am going into Kent, and can take Wimbledon in my way. Reflect, I beg of you, that no principles are the worse for being discussed, and believe me that at all events the full knowledge of the nature and extent of your opinions and intentions will be to me a lasting satisfaction.
Believe me, affectionately and unalterably yours,
W. Pitt
In the movie Amazing Grace, the directors dramatized the meeting Pitt asked for in the letter, and he says that line "Surely the principles..."
I said this would eventually ramble it's way around to Sherlock, no? Well, if you watched Amazing Grace, you might know the connection already. Hehe. Benedict Cumberbatch played William Pitt the younger in Amazing Grace and he plays (to my mind the BEST EVER) Sherlock Holmes in the new BBC TV series, Sherlock. (and Ioan Gruffudd played Wilberforce. *sigh* SO MANY BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE IN THE SAME MOVIE!)
You know, that's not the first time my fangirlishness has managed to worm its way into church. I was sick at home one Sunday a few weeks ago, so I watched the church service from my home church, which they started streaming live recently. One of the pastors grew a goatee, which I hadn't seen, of course, since I'm away at school. There was only one thing that came to mind when I saw it (so I had to print-screen it):
Tell me he doesn't look like Mirror!Spock with that goatee!
It was sooooooooooooooooooooo distracting.
Oh well...
We sang this hymn by Frances Ridley Havergal in church this morning. I love it so much. Not, perhaps, as poetic as some (I LOVE YOU, COWPER!!!!!!) but simple and straightforward:
- Take my life and let it be
Consecrated, Lord, to Thee.
*Take my moments and my days,
Let them flow in endless praise. - Take my hands and let them move
At the impulse of Thy love.
Take my feet and let them be
Swift and beautiful for Thee. - Take my voice and let me sing,
Always, only for my King.
Take my lips and let them be
Filled with messages from Thee. - Take my silver and my gold,
Not a mite would I withhold.
Take my intellect and use
Every pow’r as Thou shalt choose. - Take my will and make it Thine,
It shall be no longer mine.
Take my heart, it is Thine own,
It shall be Thy royal throne. - Take my love, my Lord, I pour
At Thy feet its treasure store.
Take myself and I will be
Ever, only, all for Thee.
My favorite line in the song is "Take my intellect, and use every power as Thou shalt choose." On the one hand it's a scary thought--giving up something I treasure as much as my intellect--but on the other hand, but on the other, it's a wonderful reminder that being a Christian is not giving up your intellect period. It's using it for God.
Anyway, I was thinking about that line, and I remembered this wonderful letter from William Pitt the younger to William Wilberforce, after Wilberforce was converted to Christianity, and seriously considered leaving politics, and living his life out in retirement. I am posting the whole thing, because it is a wonderful letter (why does no one write like that anymore? WHY?) , and because with my kindle, I was able to copy the whole thing out of a book, instead of typing it...which would have taken too long, and because there is something so charming (to me, anyway) in the notion that an 18th century soon-to-be Prime Minister of England called one of his friends "Bob." The only really important quotation is the lj-cut text: "If a Christian may act in the several relations of life, must he seclude himself for all to become so? Surely the principles as well as the practice of Christianity are simple, and lead not to meditation only but to action." But if you love old letters, as I do, you can read the whole thing below it.
My dear Wilberforce,
Bob Smith mentioned to me on Wednesday the letters he had received from you, which prepared me for that I received from you yesterday. I am indeed too deeply interested in whatever concerns you not to be very sensibly affected by what has the appearance of a new era in your life, and so important in its consequences for yourself and your friends. As to any public conduct which your opinions may ever lead you to, I will not disguise to you that few things could go nearer my heart than to find myself differing from you essentially on any great principle.
I trust and believe that it is a circumstance which can hardly occur. But if it ever should, and even if I should experience as much pain in such an event, as I have found hitherto encouragement and pleasure in the reverse, believe me it is impossible that it should shake the sentiments of affection and friendship which I bear towards you, and which I must be forgetful and insensible indeed if I ever could part with. They are sentiments engraved in my heart, and will never be effaced or weakened. If I knew how to state all I feel, and could hope that you are open to consider it, I should say a great deal more on the subject of the resolution you seem to have formed. You will not suspect me of thinking lightly of any moral or religious motives which guide you. As little will you believe that I think your understanding or judgment easily misled. But forgive me if I cannot help expressing my fear that you are nevertheless deluding yourself into principles which have but too much tendency to counteract your own object, and to render your virtues and your talents useless both to yourself and mankind. I am not, however, without hopes that my anxiety paints this too strongly. For you confess that the character of religion is not a gloomy one, and that it is not that of an enthusiast. But why then this preparation of solitude, which can hardly avoid tincturing the mind either with melancholy or superstition? If a Christian may act in the several relations of life, must he seclude himself for all to become so? Surely the principles as well as the practice of Christianity are simple, and lead not to meditation only but to action.
I will not, however, enlarge upon these subjects now. What I would ask of you, as a mark both of your friendship and of the candour which belongs to your mind, is to open yourself fully and without reserve to one, who, believe me, does not know how to separate your happiness from his own. You do not explain either the degree or the duration of the retirement which you have prescribed to yourself: you do not tell me how the future course of your life is to be directed, when you think the same privacy no longer necessary: nor, in short, what idea you have formed of the duties which you are from this time to practise. I am sure you will not wonder if I am inquisitive on such a subject. The only way in which you can satisfy me is by conversation. There ought to be no awkwardness or embarrassment to either of us, tho’ there may be some anxiety: and if you will open to me fairly the whole state of your mind on these subjects, tho’ I shall venture to state to you fairly the points where I fear we may differ, and to desire you to re-examine your own ideas where I think you are mistaken, I will not importune you with fruitless discussion on any opinion which you have deliberately formed. You will, I am sure, do justice to the motives and feelings which induce me to urge this so strongly to you. I think you will not refuse it: if you do not, name any hour at which I can call upon you to-morrow. I am going into Kent, and can take Wimbledon in my way. Reflect, I beg of you, that no principles are the worse for being discussed, and believe me that at all events the full knowledge of the nature and extent of your opinions and intentions will be to me a lasting satisfaction.
Believe me, affectionately and unalterably yours,
W. Pitt
In the movie Amazing Grace, the directors dramatized the meeting Pitt asked for in the letter, and he says that line "Surely the principles..."
I said this would eventually ramble it's way around to Sherlock, no? Well, if you watched Amazing Grace, you might know the connection already. Hehe. Benedict Cumberbatch played William Pitt the younger in Amazing Grace and he plays (to my mind the BEST EVER) Sherlock Holmes in the new BBC TV series, Sherlock. (and Ioan Gruffudd played Wilberforce. *sigh* SO MANY BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE IN THE SAME MOVIE!)
You know, that's not the first time my fangirlishness has managed to worm its way into church. I was sick at home one Sunday a few weeks ago, so I watched the church service from my home church, which they started streaming live recently. One of the pastors grew a goatee, which I hadn't seen, of course, since I'm away at school. There was only one thing that came to mind when I saw it (so I had to print-screen it):
Tell me he doesn't look like Mirror!Spock with that goatee!
It was sooooooooooooooooooooo distracting.
Oh well...