Dementia for 2

I love poetry. I really like old poetry books old prayer books, things like that.

I own a few not near as many as I would like. But I have been fortunate enough to acquire 2 first editions of poems and prayers at a very reasonable price through my virtual WalMart (EBay).

I have been thinking about my own shortcomings and how I have allowed my life to come between God and me. This is a vicious circle that I am constantly dealing with. It is like the more I turn to God, the more obstacles I incur. While I know I am not alone in this, I still feel alone.

In one of A.W. Tozer's books, I can't remember which one, he recommends "The Oxford Book of English Mystical Verse". This is not a book of dark or magical poems. These are mainly inspirational poems that date back as far as the 1200's. This book is still in print but some poems have been added or deleted over time. I was able to acquire a first edition for 20.00. What a steal!

The other book I have is a Jewish Prayer Book from the 20's. This book lists prayers for a multitude of events in both Hebrew and English.

When I am in my "pity party" mood, I often turn not only to God's Word to read some of my favorite verses, but I also turn to these books to read prayers of others who have experienced some of the same trials as I.

Today I want to share a poem by Henry Vaughn (1611-1695). Keep in mind that the English language has changed dramatically since this poem was written. I hope that you will be inspired to look within yourself and be encouraged by the fact that even in the 1600's there was a man dealing with this same issue.

The Dwelling Place

What happy, secret fountain,
Fair shade, or mountain,
Whose undiscover'd virgin glory
Boasts it this day, though not in story,
Was then thy dwelling? did some cloud
Fix'd to a Tent descend and shrowd
My distrest Lord? or did a star,
Beckon'd by thee, though high and far,
In sparkling smiles haste gladly down
To lodge light, and increase her own?
My dear, dear God! I do not know
What lodged thee then, nor where, nor how;
But I am sure, thou does now come
Oft to a narrow, homely room,
Where thou too hast but the least part,
My God I mean my sinful heart.