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ConnectHook Oct 2017
Luther walks forth in yon majestic frame,
Bright beam of heaven, and heir of endless fame,
Born, like thyself, thro toils and griefs to wind,
From slavery’s chains to free the captive mind,
Brave adverse crowns, control the pontiff sway,
And bring benighted nations into day.
Remark what crowds his name around him brings,
Schools, synods, prelates, potentates and kings,
All gaining knowledge from his boundless store,
And join’d to shield him from the papal power.
First of his friends, see Frederic’s princely form
Ward from the sage divine the gathering storm,
In learned Wittemburgh secure his seat,
High throne of thought, religion’s safe retreat.
There sits Melancthon, mild as morning light,
And feuds, tho sacred, soften in his sight;
In terms so gentle flows his tuneful tongue,
Even cloister’d bigots join the pupil throng;
By all sectarian chiefs he lives approved,
By monarchs courted and by men beloved…
from: The Columbiad, Book IV  by Joel Barlow

While the little ones are making plans to do their door-to-door candy scavenging tonight, let’s not forget that for Christians all over the world, October 31 marks Reformation Day.

It was October 31, 1517 – 500 years ago – that a monk by the name of Martin Luther nailed his 95 theses to the door of the church in Wittenberg, Germany and set off a firestorm of controversy, but ultimately, changed the path of Christianity with what was the Protestant reformation. He also drew the ire of the Roman Catholic church, whose hierarchy had found the selling of “indulgences” to be quite profitable.

“Indulgences,” by the way, were bought from the church. For a price, otherwise unrepentant people could “buy” forgiveness for their sins, trading money for a get-out-of-Hell-free card.

Yeah. That’s not how it works, and I shudder to think of how many are in eternal agony today because the church cared nothing for their souls and did not do their duty to call them to repentance, but rather, took their money and sold them false security.

Once word of Luther’s 95 theses reached Rome, they were studied and deemed “heretical” to the church. He was given 120 days to recant by Pope Leo X. He refused, and in January 1521 he was excommunicated from the Catholic church.

I don’t think he really cared.

In April of 1521 he was asked again to recant, and his writings were ordered to be burned. He hid out for a year in Eisenach, Germany and began the project of translating the New Testament into German. A transformative project that took 10 years to complete.

Luther’s later years were equally controversial, although, not in a good way. There’s no sense in visiting that part of his life, except to say that he was very much human, and we all are prone to stumble.

What he began with his theses, however, was a good that cannot be taken away.

From the Reformation movement, emerged the Five Solas, the very heart of the movement, and crucial to this Christian life.

Sola Scriptura – Scripture alone. The Bible is our highest authority, when it comes to the teachings of our God.

Sola Fide – Faith alone. Only faith in Jesus Christ saves us.

Sola Gratia – Grace alone. It is the grace of God alone, and not by the graces of any man, that we are counted as saved and forgiven.

Solus Christus – Christ alone. Only Jesus Christ is our Lord, our Savior, and our King.

Soli Deo Gloria – To the glory of God alone. It is for the glory of God alone that we live.

Beautiful.

The Reformation became necessary because the church of the day had drifted from the purpose and intent of Jesus Christ’s teachings, layering over the simple truths of who He is, and who we are to our Father in Heaven with the ambitions and greed of men.

Today, I thank God for the Reformation, that the truth of Christ and his free gift of grace no longer be hidden from humanity, or distorted by politics.

God does have a way of working things out.

From:  https://www.redstate.com/sweetie15/2017/10/31/lets-talk-reformation-day/
ConnectHook Oct 2017
HEAR YE HEAR YE
It's a wedding bell for bedding well cause' we're crushin' the illusion of Russian collusion! CNN wets on Russian bedding but Trump bets on Russian wedding, and you're invited to the bridal shower. Punking the monkery, dig the debunkery; from Rasputin to Putin it's time for some straight shootin'. Hillary looks old and glowers at Donald's rumored golden showers. Our media owes US an explanation for streams of steaming urination, but we are willing to forgive and use their wet diapers as debt wipers. My poem's appeal may take a toll, but let its little peal now roll:

******, ******
rings the bell
A Fake News warning; time to spell
out what was wet with Moscow girls.
Putin's putas ?  Wisdom's pearls
were pried from Truth's reluctant shell,
banishing Hillary straight to hell.
None. It's what we want left over
from this hag. We now discover
beds were dry; it all amounted
(all those golden tricks recounted)
to less than a tepid bowl of kasha. . .
Russia laughed from her summer dacha.
InfoWars was on it first
while Dems spun lies from false to worst,
awarding cash for faked dossiers
embellished with the CIA's
well-trained performing circus-seal.
The FBI endorsed the deal
as RINOS horned in on the action:
Washingtonian distraction;
a democrat-concocted fuss—

. . . but we ALL paid Hillary to **** on us.
TRUMP / PENCE 2020
**** on the Fake News !
HILLARY for PRISON
SUBVERT GLOBALISM.
ConnectHook Oct 2017
Of the myriad films about mummies
that send chills to the pit of our tummies,
the original’s best.
You can keep all the rest;
their appeal is to modern-day dummies.
Boris Karloff in 1932 original ROCKS !
https://connecthook.wordpress.com/2017/10/26/the-mother-of-all-mummies/
ConnectHook Oct 2017
Thence simple bards, by simple prudence taught,
To this wise town by simple patrons brought,
In simple manner utter simple lays,
And take, with simple pensions, simple praise.
Waft me, some Muse, to Tweed’s inspiring stream,
Where all the little Loves and Graces dream;
Where, slowly winding, the dull waters creep,
And seem themselves to own the power of sleep;
Where on the surface lead, like feathers, swims;
There let me bathe my yet unhallow’d limbs,
As once a Syrian bathed in Jordan’s flood—
Wash off my native stains, correct that blood
Which mutinies at call of English pride,
And, deaf to prudence, rolls a patriot tide.
From solemn thought which overhangs the brow
Of patriot care, when things are—God knows how;
From nice trim points, where Honour, slave to Rule,
In compliment to Folly, plays the fool [. . .]
From: The Prophecy of Famine
by Charles Churchill (1732– 1764)

https://www.poeticous.com/charles-churchill/the-prophecy-of-famine
ConnectHook Oct 2017
Me, whom no Muse of heavenly birth inspires,
No judgment tempers when rash genius fires;
Who boast no merit but mere knack of rhyme,
Short gleams of sense, and satire out of time;
Who cannot follow where trim fancy leads,
By prattling streams, o’er flower-empurpled meads;
Who often, but without success, have pray’d
For apt Alliteration’s artful aid;
Who would, but cannot, with a master’s skill,
Coin fine new epithets, which mean no ill:
Me, thus uncouth, thus every way unfit
For pacing poesy, and ambling wit,
Taste with contempt beholds, nor deigns to place
Amongst the lowest of her favour’d race.
by Charles Churchill (1732– 1764)

https://www.poeticous.com/charles-churchill/the-prophecy-of-famine
ConnectHook Oct 2017
President Trump's conservative foes
reveal themselves as faux conservatives.


All credit to commentator
MavenNevermore*
at InfoWars:*  http://tinyurl.com/y9rq49me
Definition of aphorism
(from www.merriam-webster.com)

1 :   a concise statement of a principle
2 :   a terse formulation of a truth or sentiment:  adage
3 :   an ingeniously terse style of expression:  aphoristic language
ConnectHook Oct 2017
I sing the Mariner who first unfurl’d
An eastern banner o’er the western world,
And taught mankind where future empires lay
In these fair confines of descending day;
Who sway’d a moment, with vicarious power,
Iberia’s sceptre on the new found shore,
Then saw the paths his virtuous steps had trod
Pursued by avarice and defiled with blood,
The tribes he foster’d with paternal toil
******’d from his hand, and slaughter’d for their spoil.

Slaves, kings, adventurers, envious of his name,
Enjoy’d his labours and purloin’d his fame,
And gave the Viceroy, from his high seat hurl’d.
Chains for a crown, a prison for a world
Long overwhelm’d in woes, and sickening there,
He met the slow still march of black despair,
Sought the last refuge from his hopeless doom,
And wish’d from thankless men a peaceful tomb:
Till vision’d ages, opening on his eyes,
Cheer’d his sad soul, and bade new nations rise;
He saw the Atlantic heaven with light o’ercast,
And Freedom crown his glorious work at last.

Almighty Freedom! give my venturous song
The force, the charm that to thy voice belong;
Tis thine to shape my course, to light my way,
To nerve my country with the patriot lay,
To teach all men where all their interest lies,
How rulers may be just and nations wise:
Strong in thy strength I bend no suppliant knee,
Invoke no miracle, no Muse but thee.

Joel Barlow: The Columbiad  (1809)
Better late than never . . .

http://www.gutenberg.org/files/8683/8683-h/8683-h.htm
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