Monday, June 28, 2010

Upon the Burning of Their House

My friends' house burned down yesterday. The fire started in the garage and quickly spread to the house just before dawn on Sunday. The family was able to escape, in their pajamas, barefoot. The family dog and the youngest girl's pet bird were saved. The home was insured. They are reeling and stunned, but grateful--for their lives; for the kindness of family, friends and even strangers; for the hope that God has given them and the illogical peace that reigns in spite of it all.

Pray for Paul and Alison and their kids--Christopher, Lydia and Eden.

Another friend, Sheila, posted part of this poem in their honor. Here it is in its entirety.

Verses Upon the Burning of Our House

by Anne Bradstreet

In silent night when rest I took,
For sorrow near I did not look,
I waken'd was with thund'ring noise
And piteous shrieks of dreadful voice.
That fearful sound of "fire" and "fire,"
Let no man know is my Desire.
I starting up, the light did spy,
And to my God my heart did cry
To straighten me in my Distress
And not to leave me succourless.
Then coming out, behold a space
The flame consume my dwelling place.
And when I could no longer look,
I blest his grace that gave and took,
That laid my goods now in the dust.
Yea, so it was, and so 'twas just.
It was his own; it was not mine.
Far be it that I should repine,
He might of all justly bereft
But yet sufficient for us left.
When by the Ruins oft I past
My sorrowing eyes aside did cast
And here and there the places spy
Where oft I sate and long did lie.
Here stood that Trunk, and there that chest,
There lay that store I counted best,
My pleasant things in ashes lie
And them behold no more shall I.
Under the roof no guest shall sit,
Nor at thy Table eat a bit.
No pleasant talk shall 'ere be told
Nor things recounted done of old.
No Candle 'ere shall shine in Thee,
Nor bridegroom's voice ere heard shall bee.
In silence ever shalt thou lie.
Adieu, Adieu, All's Vanity.
Then straight I 'gin my heart to chide:
And did thy wealth on earth abide,
Didst fix thy hope on mouldring dust,
The arm of flesh didst make thy trust?
Raise up thy thoughts above the sky
That dunghill mists away may fly.
Thou hast a house on high erect
Fram'd by that mighty Architect,
With glory richly furnished
Stands permanent, though this be fled.
It's purchased and paid for too
By him who hath enough to do.
A price so vast as is unknown,
Yet by his gift is made thine own.
There's wealth enough; I need no more.
Farewell, my pelf; farewell, my store.
The world no longer let me love;
My hope and Treasure lies above.


Anonymous said...

Am praying for them.

Mister Ed T said...

From one who had been there: "Jehovah-Jireh will provide and bless beyond your expectations. Lean on Him. With my prayers.
(See my blogs: April to Aug 2005)