My blog of October 3rd 2011, from Madagascar, had the first line of a hymn: “There’s a light upon the mountain…”, the words of it come at the end of this blog. The lines “The eastern skies are glowing, With the light of hidden fire…” were real enough just now, as the dawn came up this mid-summer day. As I was watching it, I was listening to the news of yet another tragedy in Nigeria, a bomb-blast in Abuja killing many people and maiming many others. “And the travail of our spirit, is the travail of Christ’s own…”
In my last blog, I referred to a more peaceful Nigeria. Here, a picture I took in 1964, looking down from the foothills, over Gwoza town and what is locally called ‘the plain of Noah.’ In one corner, the hospital, run by the Sudan United Mission (as it was called, now Action Partners)
Today I am reading Jeremiah 26, over the last few days I was meditating on earlier chapters of ‘the weeping prophet.’ The cult of Molech, replacing worship of the true God, and its burning of live children – perhaps not so much worse than today’s cult of adult human rights which trump the right of children to be brought up within the security and love of the parents who conceive them? Christians in the West, who do not pervert God’s word as given in the Bible, weep for our children. Was FGM practised in Nigeria in 1964? I don’t think to any great degree, moderate Muslims do not read in the Quran such child abuse, nor the training of young boys in the atrocities of war. Children burned to death, on the arms of Molech.
Enough for now. Back in 1910 – the same year as the great Edinburgh World Mission conference, Henry Burton wrote this great hymn. the music is on: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LUY5MYU-xQg
There’s a light upon the mountains,
And the day is at the spring,
When our eyes shall see the beauty
And the glory of the King:
Weary was our heart with waiting,
And the night watch seemed so long,
But His triumph day is breaking
And we hail it with a song.
In the fading of the starlight
We may see the coming morn;
And the lights of men are paling
In the splendors of the dawn;
For the eastern skies are glowing
As with light of hidden fire,
And the hearts of men are stirring
With the throbs of deep desire.
There’s a hush of expectation
And a quiet in the air
And the breath of God is moving
In the fervent breath of prayer;
For the suffering, dying Jesus
Is the Christ upon the throne,
And the travail of our spirit
Is the travail of His own.
He is breaking down the barriers,
He is casting up the way;
He is calling for His angels
To build up the gates of day:
But His angels here are human,
Not the shining hosts above;
For the drum beats of His army
Are the heartbeats of our love.
Hark! we hear a distant music
And it comes with fuller swell;
’Tis the triumph song of Jesus,
Of our King, Immanuel!
Go ye forth with joy to meet Him!
And, my soul, be swift to bring
All thy sweetest and thy dearest
For the triumph of our King!