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Enough with the depressing posts. There is joy in the Lord! And this made me laugh:
An old farmer goes to the city one weekend and attends the
big city church. He comes home and his wife asks him how it was. "Well,"
says the farmer, "It was good. They did something different, however. They
sang praise choruses instead of hymns." "Praise choruses," says
the wife, "What are those?" "Oh, they're ok. They're sort of
like hymns, only different," says the farmer. "Well, what's the
difference?" asks his wife. The farmer says, "Well, it's like this - If
I were to say to you: 'Martha, the cows are in the corn,' well, that would be a
hymn. If, on the other hand, I were to say to you:
'Martha, Martha,
Martha,
Oh Martha, MARTHA,
MARTHA.
The cows,
the big cows,
the brown cows,
the black cows,
the white cows,
the black and
white cows
the COWS, COWS,
COWS are in the corn,
are in the corn,
are in the corn,
are in the corn,
the CORN,CORN,
CORN.'
then if I were to repeat the whole thing two or three times,
well that would be a praise chorus."
The same Sunday, a young, new Christian from the city
attends the small town church. He returns home and his wife asks how it was.
"Well," says the young man, "It was good. They did something
different, however. They sang hymns instead of regular songs." "Hymns,"
says his wife, "What are those?" "Oh, they're ok. They're sort
of like regular songs, only different." says the young man. "What's
the difference?" asks the wife. The young man says, "Well, It's like
this - If I were to say to you, 'Martha, the cows are in the corn,' that would
be a regular song. If on the other hand, I were to say to you:
Oh Martha, dear
Martha, hear thou my cry
Inclinest thine
ear to the words of my mouth.
Turn thou thy
whole wonderous ear by and by
To the righteous,
inimitable, glorious truth.
For the way of the
animals who can explain
There in their
heads is no shadow of sense.
Hearkenest they in
God's sun or his rain
Unless from the
mild, tempting corn they are fenced.
Yea those cows in
glad bovine, rebellious delight,
Have broke free
their shackles, their warm pens eschewed.
Then goaded by
minions of darkness and night
They all my mild
Chilliwick sweet corn have chewed.
So look to that
bright shining day by and by,
Where all foul
corruptions of earth are reborn.
Where no vicious
animal makes my soul cry
And I no longer
see those foul cows in the corn.
Then, if I were to do only verses one, three and four and do
a key change on the last verse, well that would be a hymn."
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