Prayer for my children (if I had any)

Since John has blogged his contribution to our mother's Festschrift, let me provide mine, which is a (rather rough) translation of a classic Dutch poem by Geeske Wiersma:

I place the names of all my children in Thy hands.
Engrave them there with ineradicable lines.
That none can wipe them out with burning brands,
That even Satan cannot blot those signs.

Hold Thou my children tight, if I must loose my hold
And let Thy might above their weakness stand.
Thou know'st the world has hatred fierce and cold,
For those who do not bow to its command.

I ask Thee not to spare them tears or sorrow,
But comfort them, in loneliness and fears.
Recall Thy covenantal promises, and so
Let them not strangers be, now or in future years!

I place the names of all my children in Thy hands. Amen.

The Dutch original reads:

Ik leg de namen van mijn kinderen in Uw handen.
Graveer Gij ze daarin met onuitwisbaar schrift.
Dat niets of niemand ze meer ooit daaruit kan branden,
ook niet als satan ze straks als tarwe zift.

Houdt Gij mijn kinderen vast, als ik ze los moet laten
en laat altijd Uw kracht boven hun zwakheid staan.
Gij weet hoe mateloos de wereld hen zal haten,
als zij niet in het schema van de wereld zullen gaan.

Ik vraag U niet mijn kinderen elk verdriet te sparen,
maar wees Gij wel hun troost, als ze eenzaam zijn en bang.
Wil om Uws naams wil hen in Uw verbond bewaren,
en laat ze nooit van u vervreemden, nooit hun leven lang!

Ik leg de namen van mijn kinderen in Uw handen. Amen.

Melbourne

I'm visiting the Athens of the South for a conference. Always a great place to be.

I'll be presenting a paper on agility, which (like time) is one of those slippery concepts that one seems to understand until one thinks deeply about it.

Crossroads of Hobart

Last weekend I visited the Hobart instantiation of the Crossroads franchise. It was great, although both the people and building made me feel my age. Something seemed to be missing, although I can't quite put my finger on what it was. Still, I'm not to old to have my sermon seasoned with a catchy chorus.

(Hallelujah, I'm) sanctified, I'm sanctified,
To God on high I'm consecrated.
My heart is washed in Jesus' blood,
And day by day my sin is dying.
I stumble and I often fall,
But, God knows, I keep on trying.
The Holy Spirit in my heart
Helps and prays with deepest sighing,
So I'm sanctified, I'm sanctified by God.
I'm sanctified, I'm sanctified to God.