A favorite saying in my family: "Well, it serves you right!" I should never have posted a criticism on a book I hadn't finished. (See my post from April 18, 2015, "The Moldboard Plow," which referred back to another post from August 3, 2013, "Monticello Soup.")
On page 127 of Rural Settlements and Society in Anglo-Saxon England (Oxford University Press: Oxford, 2012), Hamerow clarifies the uses of the moldboard plow: "[H]eavier soils were increasingly being brought under cultivation in the Mid to Late Saxon period . . . . This implies the use of moldboards and strip fields, direct evidence for which is slowly but surely increasing. At Drayton (Oxfordshire), 'broad, parallel stripes of clayey material'--dated archaeomagnetically to the Late Saxon period--were recognized as representing furrows created by a moldboard plough, producing in section 'a very distinctive sandwich of inverted alluvial clay, gravel and redeposited soil.'
She cites another archaeologist, Booth, but I will spare you the details, just as I spared you the [sic]s that should have accompanied the English words, "moldboard plough."
Don't care about moldboard plows or agricultural technology? Or me annotating myself? Fine. Blame it all on Thomas Jefferson.
Saturday, May 2, 2015
Friday, May 1, 2015
"Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing"
Right now I go to two churches, depending on who can give me a ride to church on Sunday. Christ Church, a liturgical Episcopal church, is my "old" church and Nexus Portland, a non-denominational Christian church, is my "new" church.
In either church, we might, on any given Sunday, sing one of the hymns I love, "Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing." It is Hymn 686 in the Hymnal (1982), found in pews in every Episcopal Church as well as, most likely, every other Protestant church; and it is a favorite also of Julianne's, Nexus's pastor's wife, who performs our music and includes at least one old hymn among the new praise and worship selections we sing.
Jeff Taylor and Buddy Greene give a lovely performance of the song in a youtube video, in case you want to listen to or remind yourself of the song.
Robert Robinson (1735 to 1790) wrote the lyrics for "Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing" in 1757, when he was 22 years old. He was a wild young man, given to drinking and mocking the Lord. In maturity he became a Baptist minister. Late in life--at least by his own lights--he wandered into sin again.
In researching the hymn, I ran a cross a charming story sometimes told about it. One day, Robert Robinson was riding in a stagecoach with a young woman he did not know. She began humming, "Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing" and told him what a comfort the song had been for her.
He replied, "I am the poor unhappy man who wrote that hymn many years ago, and I would give a thousand worlds, if I had them, to enjoy the feelings I had then." She told him that the streams of mercy were still flowing and he returned to a state of grace.
In either church, we might, on any given Sunday, sing one of the hymns I love, "Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing." It is Hymn 686 in the Hymnal (1982), found in pews in every Episcopal Church as well as, most likely, every other Protestant church; and it is a favorite also of Julianne's, Nexus's pastor's wife, who performs our music and includes at least one old hymn among the new praise and worship selections we sing.
Jeff Taylor and Buddy Greene give a lovely performance of the song in a youtube video, in case you want to listen to or remind yourself of the song.
Robert Robinson (1735 to 1790) wrote the lyrics for "Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing" in 1757, when he was 22 years old. He was a wild young man, given to drinking and mocking the Lord. In maturity he became a Baptist minister. Late in life--at least by his own lights--he wandered into sin again.
In researching the hymn, I ran a cross a charming story sometimes told about it. One day, Robert Robinson was riding in a stagecoach with a young woman he did not know. She began humming, "Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing" and told him what a comfort the song had been for her.
He replied, "I am the poor unhappy man who wrote that hymn many years ago, and I would give a thousand worlds, if I had them, to enjoy the feelings I had then." She told him that the streams of mercy were still flowing and he returned to a state of grace.
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