Spirit and Dust Exchange

Dear Magus and Alpinist,

This morning I dusted off an antiquated volume of Danish hymns, and came across the following canticle. I do not know the tune, but the text is intriguing. To what degree are dust and steam related, do you think?

--

1. How blest are that people who have an ear for the sounds
Which comes from above,
Who already here echo the eternal song,
Hallelujah;
So all God's angels are astonished to hear
How heavenly the earthly bells sound
When the Spirit with the tongues of the heart of dust
Sings out the depths of its longing.

2. How blest is the dust, which in the creator's hand
Came so close to God,
Enlivened by him with a royal spirit
To heroic deeds,
Gifted in grace, with hand and mouth
To gain and to gladness at all times
To become like his God, at the best
And speak with him as with a neighbour.

3. How blest is the heart in the human breast,
With fear and hope,
Which is moved with delight by the voice of heaven
And the call of the Spirit,
Which has no room in its lowly hut
For longs as deep as the sea is wide,
For hope which rises up higher
Than eagles or angels on wing.

4. How blest is the tongue in the human mouth,
With life and speech,
Which puts down its roots in the depths of the heart
To eternal solace
Which shines with the light in the word of life,
Which glows with the fire on the table of grace
And grants to the hearts that weep
God's peace and the gladness of heaven.

5. How blest are that people who have Jesus for king,
Mary's son,
As his brothers and sisters they all have things well,
Open and hidden,
God's peace in their heart, God's word in their mouth,
With the hope of glory at all times
For they, at the chosen of God the Father,
Share kinship with his only begotten.

6. How blest is each soul which in the Saviour's name
From the hand of grace,
Received healing for its hurt, and for all its loss
With life and Spirit,
With the Spirit of the Father and the life of the Son
With the strength of the martyrs in a trembling reed
With the power as the proof of glory
With the keys to paradise.

Collects for Vampire Lent

The Second Sunday of Lent

O God, whose glory it is always to have mercy: Be gracious to all who have turned undead, and bring them again with staked hearts to embrace and hold fast the unchangeable truth of your Word, Jesus Christ your Son; who with you and the Holy Spirit lives and reigns, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

The Third Sunday of Lent

Strengthen us, O Lord, by your grace, that in your might we may overcome all enemies of the twilight hours, and with pure hearts serve you; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

The Fourth Sunday of Lent
 
Almighty God, you know that I have no power in myself to help myself: Keep me both outwardly in my body and inwardly in my soul, that I may be defended from all injuries which may happen to the body, and from all evil thoughts which may assault and hurt the soul and steal the blood; through Jesus Christ the Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen. 

For Weekdays in Lent

Grant us, O Lord our Strength, to have a True Love of your Holy Name; so that, trusting in your grace, we may fear no earthly or supernatural evil, nor fix our hearts on earthly goods or immortal lives, but may rejoice in your full salvation; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen. 
 

Steam and Ash: Further Selections from James Watt's Experimental Steam Theology

So far as I can tell, by the reckoning of my devices and pneumatometer, the beginnings of the world is not the atom of Leucippius.  To say that the beginning and bottom of all things (the hen kai panton of the wretched but genuis Spinoza) is without division does not appear on my scope.

The penumatometer allows me to delve deeper.  It would be worth noting that Mr. Locke should have had my scope since I can still see color this far down (it should be a primary quality).  At this point, I can go further as the lines of all things keep going.

Nothing is indivisible.  There are no atoms.  Only steam, continuous and flowing, depth of color and shape beyond shape.

Who can plumb these depths?  What end can be found if that which is smallest is hardly small at all?  It seemed that as I searched downward, I was actually traveling up.  This steam seems to be give height in its depth.  Strength in its fragility.

And this steam seems to stir in ash, dust, and even sound in it.

I do not think Thales or Leucippius had it right.  There is no uncuttable, no pivot on which to stand.  We are this steam -- we are from it and in it and through it.  Epimenedes.  Paulus in Acropolis.

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