I am also somewhat in shock by the Christmas gift I got from my son and his wife, with a little help from my wife and others of our children. I had a vague idea from pop-up adds that you can have a book made of blog posts. My family went ahead and did that for my first year of this blog. It would the height of vanity press except that I didn't do it myself. It was a thoughtful and respectful gift from family which humbles me and fills me with love and appreciation. And, of course, my wife accurately pointed out that it is a little circular vanity of me to take a picture of the book with the intent of posting it here on this blog. But it's not for public sale, you'll just have to read things here in cyber-world.
|And my favorite color, too!|
So for now, I leave you with another poem of ancient cousin Henry Vaughan (1622-1695), a deeply religious one, as we consider all our vanities looking towards a blessed New Year of continued repentance ahead:
Happy those early days! when I Shined in my angel-infancy, Before I understood this place Appointed for my second race, Or taught my soul to fancy ought But a white, celestial thought; When yet I had not walked above A mile or two from my first love, And looking back—at that short space— Could see a glimpse of His bright face; When on some gilded cloud, or flower, My gazing soul would dwell an hour, And in those weaker glories spy Some shadows of eternity; Before I taught my tongue to wound My conscience with a sinful sound, Or had the black art to dispense A several sin to every sense, But felt through all this fleshy dress Bright shoots of everlastingness. Oh how I long to travel back, And tread again that ancient track! That I might once more reach that plain, Where first I left my glorious train; From whence the enlightened spirit sees That shady city of palm trees. But ah! my soul with too much stay Is drunk, and staggers in the way. Some men a forward motion love, But I by backward steps would move And when this dust falls to the urn, In that state I came, return.