The Captain of Thy Soul

As much as I loved America's great philosopher, Ralph Waldo Emerson (and I still do), his essay 'Self Reliance' confused me in my youth.  It was truth mixed with error. He proceeded by the light that he had--and he had a very great intellectual light--but it had been eclipsed by the restored Gospel light that had burst upon the world, that few, even today, have begun to walk in.  

Compare this proud poem by William Ernest Henley, who may have been influenced by Emerson's 'Self Reliance,' with the Gospel of Jesus Christ-inspired counterpoint of an enlightened Orson F. Whitney:

             Invictus  

      by William Ernest Henley

Out of the night that covers me

Black as the pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance

I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeoning of chance

My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

Looms but the horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

Finds, and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,

How charged with punishment the scroll,

I am the master of my fate:

I am the captain of my soul.  

      The Soul’s Captain 

     by Orson F. Whitney

Art thou in truth?  Then what of Him

Who bought thee with His blood?

Who plunged into devouring seas

And snatched thee from the flood,

Who bore for all our fallen race

What none but Him could bear—

That God who died that man

      might live

And endless glory share.

Of what avail thy vaunted strength

Apart from His vast might?

Pray that His light may pierce the

    gloom

That thou mayest see aright. 

Men are as bubbles on the wave,

As leaves upon the tree,

Thou captain of thy soul!  Forsooth

Who gave that place to thee?

Free will is thine—free agency,

To wield for right or wrong;

But thou must answer unto Him

To whom all souls belong.

Bend to the dust that “head unbowed,”

Small part of life’s great whole,

And see in Him and Him alone,

The Captain of thy Soul.  

 

 

             

        

Great Expectations--Part 2

I had thought not to finish this famous novel by Charles Dickens because of what I early perceived as its darkness of plot and setting and character of a number of its characters including its protagonist, Pip.  I, nevertheless, persisted and finished it.  It is the story of a prodigal who, over time, realized the folly and sham of his ‘great expectations’ and scarred and sick came back, a wiser man, to his roots. 

As noted previously, I appreciated its narrative technique, and, as I suspected and why I persisted, the triumph of good over evil. 

  

To me it showed the darkness and bonds into which one, even the good and innocent, can fall and become ensnared when captivated by the vain and vainglorious things of the world.  It also shows the cost of ignoring one’s conscience. 

 

We need to be very sure of our ‘great expectations’ or hopes and count the cost before we invest ourselves into anything that will not bring us and our loved ones the peace without regret that we all desire. 

  

The only legitimate reason to seek status or riches, is to “seek them for the intent to do good—to clothe the naked, and to feed the hungry, and to liberate the captive, and administer relief to the sick and the afflicted.” And the only person to legitimately do that, in this book, was not the supposed or even real ‘benefactor’ who provided money and false expectations to Pip, but Pip’s humble and good-to-the-bone stepfather Joe, the blacksmith.

I end with a short but very wise speech by this good man: “Pip, dear old chap, life is made of ever so many partings welded together . . . and one man’s a blacksmith, and one’s a whitesmith, and one’s a goldsmith. . . .  Divisions among such must come, and must be met as they come.  You and me is not two figures to be together in London; nor yet anywheres else, but what is private, and beknown, and understood among friends.  It ain’t that I am proud, but that I want to be right, as you shall never see me no more in these clothes.  I’m wrong in these clothes. I’m wrong out of the forge, the kitchen, or off the marshes.  You won’t find half so much fault in me supposing as if you should ever wish to see me [again if], you come and put your head in at the forge window and see Joe, the blacksmith, there at the old anvil, in the old burnt apron, sticking to the old work.” 

It is okay to have ‘great expectations’ and know what our true ‘work’ is,  but never compromise them at the expense of one’s character or integrity.  To thine own self—and one’s God—be true.

The Way We Were

We’ve all heard the Barbara Streisand song of that title, and we’ve all thought, probably many times, of the way we were when we were younger, prettier, stronger, perhaps more optimistic, certainly more naïve. 

‘Memories light the corner of my mind.  Misty water color memories of the way we were.  / Can it be that it was all so simple then, or has time rewritten every line?  If we had the chance to do it all again, Tell me? Would we? Could we?’

For me, the answer is, generally, ‘no’ and ‘perhaps.’  And for that I am very thankful—I’ve had few regrets.  I’ve got ‘miles to go’ and great things to look forward to. 

She goes on: ‘Memories may be beautiful and yet, what’s too painful to remember, we simply choose to forget.’  Well, again, perhaps. 

I did not see the movie, so I do not know the context of these lyrics, but I suppose it was her reflection of a past relationship that probably was once good but then went bad.  We’ve all got a movie that we sometimes run back. 

But the notion is valuable.  It congers a reflection in all of us as we look back at our lives: where we’ve been, where we are, where we have yet to go.  Are we satisfied?  Are we prepared for whatever might lie ahead?  

As another year passes (it is, after all, December 31^st), as our life passes, we invariably look back.  Often we see—or sometimes ‘simply choose to forget,’ but better yet choose to learn from—the rough parts ,  as well as happily recounting and replaying that which was good. 

One of the greatest boons that we have, in real time, is that we have access to an editing mechanism, a ‘delete’ button that really can ‘re[write] every line.’  Call it ‘repentance,’ and the outcome call ‘forgiveness,’  and call the life ahead a great ‘new day dawning,’ or a new beginning—whatever, with God’s help, we choose to make it. 

As I seem to be infused today with song lyrics,  I end this year with two more: 

For me, ‘It’s been a good life, all in all.’ (John Denver)  

If not for you, ‘Pick [yourself] up and get back in the race…that’s life.’ (Frank Sinatra) You might be surprised at who might be happy to run beside you! 

Auld lang syne.