THE BRAND ROSS DEBATE

One point that seems to have escaped the commentators is that the real moral question is how we treat our neighbour.  If we are going to laugh at the old, cripples and those who are unable to defend themselves then things have really come to a pretty pass.  I am old enough to remember 'That Was The Week That Was' and as far as I remember it was the rich and powerful that were the focus of any attacks.  Attacking the weak and defenceless who have caused no offence is cowardly and pathetic.  

Whether certain delicate things should be mentioned is a matter of taste.  It is sad that certain repressed people find such things amusing - it is probably a sign of their immaturity.  It hardly takes much talent to shock and upset people (although eventually if things are allowed to continue no one will be shocked) so why should people be paid colossal sums to do just that?  With an injection of quality and real talent the BBC should be able to produce programs to encourage us to laugh constructively at ourselves rather than at other people. 


PROJECT PAGE

I am trying to translate the hymn below from the Danish.  It is not supposed to be a literal translation but verses 2 and 3 (especially 2) are very odd and if there is anyone out there who can shed light on them I should be very grateful if you could leave a message on the message board.

Min Jesus, lad mit Hjerte få
en sådan Smag på dig,
at Dag og Nat du være må
min Sjæl umistelig.

Da bliver Nådens Tid og Stund
mig sød og lystelig,
thi du mig kysser med din Mund
og tager hjem til dig.

Mit Hjerte i den Grav, du lå
til Påskemorgen rød,
lad, når det aftner, Hvile få
og smile ad sin Død!

Før så mig arme Synder hjem
med din Retfærdighed
til dit det ny Jerusalem,
til al din Herlighed!

Bjørn Christian Lund (1738-1809)

 

O Jesus, may this heart of mine
Demand a taste for Thee
That day and night Thou mayst design
A treasured home in me.

Transformed by grace and moment I
May sweet and loving be
For I have felt Thy holy touch
And found my home in thee.

My heart there in that grave, it lies
Til Easter Morning's breath,
As sunlight fails I close my eyes
And smile upon my death!

Then home shall this poor sinner come
And with Thy righteous band
Within the new Jerusalem
In all Thy glory stand.

Translated Malcolm New