prospective perspective

PER·SPEC·TIVE (P..R-SPK..TV) N. 1. A MENTAL VIEW OR OUTLOOK: “IT IS USEFUL OCCASIONALLY TO LOOK AT THE PAST TO GAIN A PERSPECTIVE ON THE PRESENT” (FABIAN LINDEN) 2.THE ABILITY TO PERCEIVE THINGS IN THEIR ACTUAL INTERRELATIONS OR COMPARATIVE IMPORTANCE. 3.THE TECHNIQUE OF REPRESENTING THREE-DIMENSIONAL OBJECTS AND DEPTH RELATIONSHIPS ON A TWO-DIMENSIONAL SURFACE.

The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.

—Psalm 34:18 ESV

Another Oreo wonderfilled song! Happy Monday everyone :)

Wonder if I gave an Oreo.. :)

Finally found an app that allows me to access blocked sites (such as YouTube) here in this commie country! Whoopee! :)

Adds up to 110%.. and I would swop talent for mental! :)

Adds up to 110%.. and I would swop talent for mental! :)

O Love that wilt not let me go,
I rest my weary soul in thee;
I give thee back the life I owe,
That in thine ocean depths its flow
May richer, fuller be.

O light that foll’west all my way,
I yield my flick’ring torch to thee;
My heart restores its borrowed ray,
That in thy sunshine’s blaze its day
May brighter, fairer be.

O Joy that seekest me through pain,
I cannot close my heart to thee;
I trace the rainbow through the rain,
And feel the promise is not vain,
That morn shall tearless be.

O Cross that liftest up my head,
I dare not ask to fly from thee;
I lay in dust life’s glory dead,
And from the ground there blossoms red
Life that shall endless be.

George Matheson said about this hymn:

My hymn was com­posed in the manse of In­ne­lan [Ar­gyle­shire, Scot­land] on the ev­en­ing of the 6th of June, 1882, when I was 40 years of age. I was alone in the manse at that time. It was the night of my sister’s mar­ri­age, and the rest of the fam­i­ly were stay­ing over­night in Glas­gow. Some­thing hap­pened to me, which was known only to my­self, and which caused me the most se­vere men­tal suf­fer­ing. The hymn was the fruit of that suf­fer­ing. It was the quick­est bit of work I ever did in my life. I had the im­press­ion of hav­ing it dic­tat­ed to me by some in­ward voice ra­ther than of work­ing it out my­self. I am quite sure that the whole work was com­plet­ed in five min­utes, and equal­ly sure that it ne­ver re­ceived at my hands any re­touch­ing or cor­rect­ion. I have no na­tur­al gift of rhy­thm. All the other vers­es I have ever writ­ten are man­u­fact­ured ar­ti­cles; this came like a day­spring from on high.