Sunday's Song

Last week we sang this lovely setting of How Much I Owe.  The text is an 1837 poem by Scottish poet Robert Murray McCheyne.

(This link will take you to the music publisher's site.  To hear the song, click on the top icon to the left of the purple picture.)
Title How Much I Owe - Search Results at Stanton's Sheet Music

When this passing world is done,
When has sunk yon glaring sun,
When I stand with Christ on high,
Looking o'er life's history,
Then, Lord, shall I fully know-
Not till then -how much I owe.

Chosen not for good in me,
Wakened up from wrath to flee,
Hidden in the Savior's side,
By the Spirit sanctified,
Teach me, Lord, on earth to show,
By my love, how much I owe.

Oft the nights of sorrow reign -
Weeping, sickness, sighing, pain;
But, when fear is at the height,
Jesus comes, and all is light;
Blessed Jesus! bid me show
Doubting saints how much I owe.

When I stand before the throne,
Dressed in beauty not my own,
When I see Thee as Thou art,
Love Thee with unsinning heart,
Then Lord, shall I fully know -
Not till then - how much I owe.

Who's That Knocking At My Door?

I should probably start a recurring post called Tangent Tuesday.  Although, I don't know if I could confine it to one day a week.  It seems to happen quite often.  Today's post was intended to show off my new door but the title above immediately sent me off on a tangent.  And that's where I'm going to start, so if you want to skip to the door you'll have to go to the next page.

back,  l-r:  Uncle Maurice, Aunt Ruth, Mom, Dad, Me.
front l-r:  Great-aunt Amy, Great-aunt Ruth, Aunt Carol, Aunt Miriam.

The little lady in the red coat was my great-aunt Ruth.  We refer to her as "Little Auntie Ruth" to differentiate her from our Aunt Ruth, mom's sister.  Confused yet?

Two of my six siblings, Susan and Brian.

Little Auntie Ruth used to live in this little trailer on our property, right next to our house, from the early 60s to 1971, the year she died.  There are lots of memories I could share about her, but the one that connects this tangent to my door is the way she answered her door. When we knocked, she would come to the door singing this  little ditty:

I've asked around to see if anyone knows where it came from but it was probably something she just made up.

Okay, that's the tangent.  Now, the door.