CROSSING THE BAR

Well, it’s Friday today. . . .with a different sort of posting:

purple

First Friday in Lent, actually, so it’s appropriate, and right, and proper to think of death.    I’ve had quite a lot of it recently.   Not just the almost 300 souls who are missing,  now,  in the Malaysian airplane.   Not just Hubbie, whose death seems so “recent” and all the attendant questions play over and over in my mind.

There was a young mother this week,  four children,  who came down with “flu-like symptoms” and went into kidney failure. . . and died,.     And there is a friend of this family, a good young lady, whom I love very  much, who was also recovering from a “flu”  and was admitted to the hospital this week for kidney failure….and whatever else.   She is still with us.

“Crossing the Bar” –

SAMSUNG

I came across that rather shabby sheet music at a used store one day.   I do love these old, old songs that once were played in the parlor, for the whole family to enjoy and perhaps sing along.   The lyrics caught my attention, and without realizing how meaningful they could some day be to me,  I purchased the sheet music.

So, in general,  I know we are supposed to live as if we’re going to die some day.   We are to live as though we will be on our death bed some day, thinking . . . .     It’s hard to come to terms with that idea, but there are those who have thought about it, have “crossed to the other side,”  and have left behind their thoughts for us.   We’re not alone, really.

Here are the lyrics, for those of you who have ever  thought of your own dying:

 Sunset and evening star,

      And one clear call for me!

And may there be no moaning of the bar,

      When I put out to sea,

   But such a tide as moving seems asleep,

      Too full for sound and foam,

When that which drew from out the boundless deep

      Turns again home.

   Twilight and evening bell,

      And after that the dark!

And may there be no sadness of farewell,

      When I embark;

   For tho’ from out our bourne of Time and Place

      The flood may bear me far,

I hope to see my Pilot face to face

      When I have crost the bar.

You don’t need to live by the seaside among  tides and moaning sandbars  to get the general idea.    The words are actually a poem written by Alfred, Lord Tennyson.    It was a popular poem to memorize and to recite, long ago,  when people entertained each other.

I don’t know what Tennyson’s faith was,  but he did know about the “Pilot”  who will be waiting for us when we, too, cross that great sandbar, over which there is no turning back from our journey into the deep black abyss of death.

And it’s through the Abyss of Death that those who follow Jesus Christ will follow in His footsteps, to His place, where we have no right to be because we are  sons and daughters of Adam’s fallen race.

But this Christ, this Son of God became Son of Adam….  and “paid for”  our right to follow Him all the way,  crossing the bar, into His home.

Sunset and evening star  . .  . And one clear call for me! 

crucifix first

  Therefore as by the offence of one judgment came upon all men to condemnation; even so by the righteousness of One the free gift came upon all men unto justification of life.   (St. Paul, the book of Romans,  teaching us the theological reasons for Christian hope.)

No real fear for what’s on the other side.   He did it first.    And that’s what Christendom thinks about, on  Fridays.

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