Showing posts with label "Brighten the Corner Where You Are". Show all posts
Showing posts with label "Brighten the Corner Where You Are". Show all posts

Friday, April 19, 2024

QUICK GOLD

 

When winter's grays and browns yield to the warmer days of spring, our landscape is quickly splashed with bright yellow, among the first vibrant hues of new vegetation. Without intending to insult lovers of tulips and daffodils, you have to admit that dandelions burst in happy profusion after their long winter's nap. I can remember when my then-toddler children went out to the lawn to pick “bouquets” of the lawn's dandelions for Mommy. Beauty to their little selves, to the world they're weeds. The other day I drove by one of our schools and noticed the lawn a mass of yellow, soon to be mowed and tossed away.

American poet Robert Frost (1874-1963) noticed the same thing when he wrote of how “spring's first green is gold.” Fall has its gold, too, when the season turns the green leaves gold, russet, red and brown. But spring's gold is vibrant, alive. A yellow that's short-lived.

I confess to being guilty of making unlikely “connections,” and this time spring's abundant display of dandelions brought to mind a little old faith-song, “Brighten the corner where you are.” Probably my mother (born 1919) sang it, as did her her mother, and who knows how far back. Hymn histories credit the song to Ina Ogdon. (“Ina” is an Irish form of “Agnes,” which means “pure.”) Ogdon lived 1872-1964—just about the same interval as Robert Frost. She is credited with more than 3,000 hymns, anthems, cantatas, and miscellaneous verse. But she shirked publicity, saying God gave her the songs and without Him she could do nothing. No doubt, if you went to church or Sunday school as a child, you sang its chorus:

Brighten the corner where you are (2x)

Someone far from harbor you may guide across the bar;

Brighten the corner where you are.*

Probably like me, you've run across people who don't brighten the corner of our lives. They're touchy or prickly, like thistles. (Hopefully, none of us could be compared to the infamous “corpse flower.” It blooms once a decade with a putrid, rotting odor! See: Why Titan Arum, the Corpse Flower, is so Popular | Nature and Wildlife | Discovery )

I'd rather be a dandelion. Though short-lived, they're cheerful as our long, gray winter welcomes the change of seasons. And they remind me, as Ina Ogdon wrote, to brighten the corner where I am.

*Review all the verses and Mrs. Ogdon's biography here: Brighten the Corner Where You Are | Hymnary.org



Friday, May 22, 2020

BRIGHTENERS



She was forty years old in 1912 when she wrote a cheery hymn with the catchy refrain, “Brighten the corner where you are.”  Though not found in many hymnals any more, a lot of folks can still recall part of its opening lyrics and chorus:

1. Do not wait until some deed of greatness you may do,
Do not wait to shed your light afar;
To the many duties ever near you now be true,
Brighten the corner where you are.
Refrain:
Brighten the corner where you are! Brighten the corner where you are!
Someone far from harbor you may guide across the bar;
Brighten the corner where you are!
2. Just above are clouded skies that you may help to clear,
Let not narrow self your way debar;
Though into one heart alone may fall your song of cheer,
Brighten the corner where you are.
3. Here for all your talent you may surely find a need,
Here reflect the bright and Morning Star;
Even from your humble hand the Bread of Life may feed,
Brighten the corner where you are.

Ina Duley Ogdon (1872-1964), granddaughter of a Methodist minister, would live through the Spanish flu epidemic of a century ago, the Depression, two world wars and the Korean War, the polio epidemic, and more. She wrote more than 3,000 hymns, anthems, cantatas, and miscellaneous verse—all with the humble acknowledgement that God gave her the gift of lyric-writing and without Him she could do nothing.

This lone dandelion spread its cheer in my strawberry planter!
The other day on a walk, as I witnessed the proliferation of spring’s dandelions, I thought of people like her. They bloom for a while with cheerful brightness, then allow their legacy to go where it will—much like dandelions release their helicoptered seeds to bloom again. Wouldn’t you know it: the internet has several sites for sayings and poetry illustrated by dandelions, either blooming or releasing their seeds.  Here are some:
In a world of roses, she chose to be a dandelion. 
Wise sayings often fall on barren ground, but a kind word is never thrown away.
Some see a weed, some see a wish.
Life is a balance of holding and letting go.
Give thanks for unknown blessings already on their way.
Then, there’s one of my favorite proverbs:
A generous man will prosper; he who refreshes others will himself be refreshed.(Proverbs 11:25) 

I wonder if one of the better outcomes of the fears and stringent rules of the Covid-19 crisis has been a renewed appreciation for the grace of sharing and caring.  Even while confined with “social distancing,” people have made efforts to reach out and spread cheer. Like sunny dandelions, flinging the seeds of spent beauty out to be replanted elsewhere. Brightening the corner...where they are.