My European home was in the Belgian province of Liège, the capital city of which bears the same name. We visited this city in our early travels, and I took the following pictures there in Saint Bartholomew’s cathedral. The tombs in the walls intrigued me with their worn Latin inscriptions, and even though I had studied Latin for two years, I was only able to read the words Hic jacet, which signify “Here lies…”
From Ailenroc’s Book, by Cornelia Alexander
Once I knew a joyous maiden,
Happy as a summer bird,
Laughing, singing ‘mong the flowers;
Her young heart with pleasure stirred.
O the happy days of childhood!
How they flit like phantoms by!
While I retrospect those hours,
Wondering vaguely: Was it I?
How I marveled then at faces
Growing graver with the years,
And at eyes that lost their brightness,
Quenched their light in bitter tears!
Now I marvel at the gladness
Of the days so long gone by,
While I sit a silent weeper,
Wondering: Can this be I?
Happy hours—they have fled forever;
Happy heart has left my breast;
Childhood’s days have fled like shadows,
Womanhood hath brought no rest.
All alone in wintry darkness
Sit I as the days go by,
Thinking of my happy girlhood,
Wondering: Can this be I?
Poetry by Anna L. Waring (1850)
Music by Felix Mendelssohn (1843)
Audio recording
In heavenly love abiding, no change my heart shall fear.
And safe is such confiding, for nothing changes here.
The storm may roar without me, my heart may low be laid,
But God is round about me, and can I be dismayed?Wherever He may guide me, no want shall turn me back.
My Shepherd is beside me, and nothing can I lack.
His wisdom ever waketh, His sight is never dim.
He knows the way He taketh, and I will walk with Him.Green pastures are before me, which yet I have not seen.
Bright skies will soon be o’er me, where darkest clouds have been.
My hope I cannot measure, my path to life is free.
My Savior has my treasure, and He will walk with me.
Poetry by Mary A.S. Barber (1858)
Music by W.T. Porter (1858)
Prince of Peace! control my will,
Bid this struggling heart be still;
Bid my fears and doubtings cease—
Hush my spirit into peace.Thou hast bought me with Thy blood,
Opened wide the gate to God;
Peace I ask, but peace must be,
Lord, in being one with Thee.May Thy will, not mine, be done;
May Thy will and mine be one;
Chase these doubtings from my heart;
Now Thy perfect peace impart.Savior, at Thy feet I fall;
Thou my life, my God, my All;
Let Thy happy servant be
One forevermore with Thee.
Poetry by Benjamin Schmolck (1704), translated from German to English by Jane L. Borthwick (1854)
My Jesus, as Thou wilt! Oh, may Thy will be mine!
Into Thy hand of love I would my all resign;
Through sorrow, or through joy, conduct me as Thine own,
And help me still to say, my Lord, Thy will be done!My Jesus, as Thou wilt! If needy here and poor,
Give me Thy people’s bread, their portion rich and sure.
The manna of Thy Word Let my soul feed upon;
And if all else should fail, my Lord, thy will be done.My Jesus, as Thou wilt! Though seen through many a tear,
Let not my star of hope grow dim or disappear;
Since Thou on earth hast wept, and sorrowed oft alone,
If I must weep with Thee, my Lord, Thy will be done!My Jesus, as Thou wilt! All shall be well for me;
Each changing future scene I gladly trust with Thee:
Straight to my home above I travel calmly on,
And sing, in life or death, my Lord, Thy will be done!
