The wife was made of the husband’s rib; not of his head, for Paul calleth the husband the wife’s head; not of the foot, for he must not set her at his foot. The servant is appointed to serve, [but] the wife to help. If she must not match with the head, nor stoop at the foot, where shall he set her then? He must set her at his heart, and therefore she which should lie in his bosom was made in his bosom. —Henry Smith 1560-1591?
And at midnight there was a cry made, Behold, the bridegroom cometh; go ye out to meet him! —from Matthew 25 KJV
And the LORD God said, It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him an help meet for him. And out of the ground the LORD God formed every beast of the field, and every fowl of the air; and brought them unto Adam to see what he would call them: and whatsoever Adam called every living creature, that was the name thereof. And Adam gave names to all cattle, and to the fowl of the air, and to every beast of the field; but for Adam there was not found an help meet for him. And the LORD God caused a deep sleep to fall upon Adam, and he slept: and he took one of his ribs, and closed up the flesh instead thereof; And the rib, which the LORD God had taken from man, made he a woman, and brought her unto the man. And Adam said, This is now bone of my bones, and flesh of my flesh: she shall be called Woman, because she was taken out of Man. Therefore shall a man leave his father and his mother, and shall cleave unto his wife: and they shall be one flesh. —Genesis 2:18-24 KJV
Whoso findeth a wife findeth a good thing, and obtaineth favour of the LORD. —Proverbs 18:22 KJV
Who can find a virtuous woman? for her price is far above rubies. The heart of her husband doth safely trust in her, so that he shall have no need of spoil. She will do him good and not evil all the days of her life. —Proverbs 31:10-12 KJV
A Tribute to the Confederate Cause — Sung to the tune of “Wearing of the Green”
The fearful struggle’s ended now
And peace smiles on our land,
And though we’ve yielded we have proved
Ourselves a faithful band.
We fought them long, we fought them well,
We fought them night and day,
And bravely struggled for our rights
While wearing of the gray.
And now that we have ceased to fight
And pledged our sacred word,
That we against the Union’s might
No more will draw the sword,
We feel despite the sneers of those
Who never smelt the fray,
That we’ve a manly, honest right
To wearing of the gray.
Our cause is lost the more we fight
‘Gainst o’erwhelming power,
All wearied are our limbs and drenched
With many a battle shower.
We feign we rest for want of strength
In yielding up the day,
And lower the flag so proudly born
While wearing of the gray.
Defeat is not dishonor,
Our honor not bereft,
We thank God that in our hearts
This priceless boon was left.
And though we weep just for those braves
Who stood in proud array,
Beneath our flag and nobly died
While wearing of the gray.
When in the ranks of war we stood
And faced the deadly hail,
Our simple suits of gray composed
Our only coats of mail.
And on the awful hours that marked
The bloody battle day,
In memories we’ll still be seen
Wearing of the gray.
Oh! should we reach that glorious place
Where waits a sparklin’ crown,
For everyone who for the right
His soldier life lay down.
God grant to us the privilege
Upon that happy day,
Of claspin’ hands with those who fell
While wearing of the gray.
Below are the lyrics to an ancient Scottish folk song, the tune of which is thought to have been played by Bruce’s army at the battle of Bannockburn in 1314.* The song is beautifully performed by Celtic Balladeer Charlie Zahm.
Take the time to listen along as you scan the lyrics (thought to have been derived from a speech given by Robert the Bruce before the battle of Bannockburn.) For meanings on some of the words, refer to the chart in the Wikipedia article linked below. Enjoy.
Scots wha ha’e wae Wallace bled,
Scots wham Bruce ha’e aftimes led,
Welcome tae your gory bed,
Or tae victory
Now’s the day and now’s the hour,
See the front o’ battle lour,
See approach proud Edward’s power,
Chains and slavery
Wha will be a traitor knave,
Wha can fill a coward’s grave
Wha sae base as be a slave,
let him turn and flee,
Wha for Scotland’s king and law,
Freedom’s sword will strongly draw,
Freemen stand or freeman fa,
let him follow me.
By oppression’s woes and pains,
By your sons in servile chains,
We will drain our dearest veins,
But they shall be free.
Lay the proud usurpers low,
Tyrants fall in every foe,
Liberty’s in every blow,
let us do or dee.
* As noted in the Wikipedia article here
Gracious Father, the life of man is a warfare upon earth, and the dangers which assault us are diversely pointed against us. We humbly beseech Thee be present with us in all the course and passages of our lives, but especially in the Secession we have undertaken, and the hostilities in which it has involved us. Suffer no malice, or treachery, or stratagem — whether civil, diplomatic, or military, to hurt us; no cunning to circumvent us; no surprises to come upon us unawares; no falsehood to betray us. That which we cannot foresee we beseech Thee to prevent; that which we cannot withstand we beseech Thee to master; that which we do not fear we beseech Thee to unmask and frustrate — that being delivered from all dangers of spirit, soul and body, we may praise Thee our Deliverer, and experience how secure and happy a thing it is to make the Lord of Hosts our Protector and Helper in the day of fear and trouble, of peril and distress.
O, our God, though mighty and numerous States gather together on heaps, yet let them be driven away from our borders as the smoke before the wind; and though they take counsel together, bring it to nought. For though they pronounce a decree, yet it shall not stand, if Thou, O God, be with us. Be with us, therefore, O God, for Jesus Christ’s sake. Almighty and merciful father, at this time we need Thy more especial assistance both by land and by sea, and for the mercy of Christ deny us neither. Defeat, we implore Thee, the designs and confound the machinations of our enemies; abate their pride and assuage their fury; soften their hearts and change their unnatural hatred into Christian love. and forgive them all their sins against Thee and against us.
Grant that their ships may find no way in our seas, nor any path in our floods; may their spies be speedily detected and effectually banished from our midst; preserve us from war and tumult; from battle, murder, and sudden death; guard us from sedition, conspiracy, and rebellion; defend our soil from invasion and our ports from blockade — that we may glorify Thee for these deliverances, no less than for Thy signal presence and power in the mercies of our bloodless victory; and thus being sheltered by Thy grace and favor from every spiritual and temporal evil, and from all personal and national calamities, we may ever obey and serve Thee in purity of heart and holiness of life, through Jesus Christ, our Lord and Saviour, to whom with Thee and the Holy Ghost, be all praise, worship and dominion for ever and ever. Amen.
—The prayer of a Confederate Soldier from “Prayers Suitable for the Times in Which We Live” 1861
Did you tackle that trouble that came your way
With a resolute heart and cheerful?
Or hide your face from the light of day
With a craven soul and fearful?
Oh, a trouble’s a ton, or a trouble’s an ounce,
Or a trouble is what you make it,
And it isn’t the fact that you’re hurt that counts,
But only, how did you take it?
You are beaten to earth? Well, well, what’s that?
Come up with a smiling face.
It’s nothing against you to fall down flat,
But to lie there, that’s disgrace
The harder you’re thrown, why the higher you bounce,
Be proud of your blackened eye!
It isn’t the fact that you’re licked that counts
It’s how did you fight — and why?
And though you be done to the death, what then?
If you battled the best you could,
If you played your part in the world of men,
Why the Critic will call it good.
Death comes with a crawl or comes with a pounce,
And whether he’s slow or spry,
It isn’t the fact that you’re dead that counts
But only, how did you die?
From Poems for Patriarchs, compiled and edited by Doug Phillips
It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again; because there is not effort without error and shortcomings; but who does actually strive to do the deed; who knows the great enthusiasm, the great devotion, who spends himself in a worthy cause, who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement and who at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly. So that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat.
— Excerpt from a speech by Theodore Roosevelt given at the Sorbonne in Paris, 1910