When Doubts Start to Rise

 

When troubles assail me, when doubts start to rise,

When storm clouds obscure hope and dim faith's sharp eyes,

When heartache gives way then to gloom and deep pain,

My Jesus still holds me; His love will not wane.

When loud tempests buffet my soul on life's seas,

When foes all accuse me and help fails and flees,

When vict'ry is trampled and crushed to the dust,

My Jesus still holds me; in Him will I trust.

I never could stand long against hosts so dark;

By myself I'd falter and lose hope's small spark;

But I have a promise, a great surety!

My Jesus still holds me—He loves endlessly.

It's not by my doing nor by my intent,

It's not by my words though their being well-meant;

But Grace has assured me: by Grace I shall stand;

My Jesus still holds me—I'm safe in His hand.

© 2025, D. Benning

May be sung to the tune, St. Denio  (11.11.11.11), by John Roberts, 1839

There!

There at the right time, Christ came down from Heav'n;

There in time's fullness, God the Son was giv'n.

There, Jesus born of Mary — Infinite disguised —

Him we esteemed not, Him we then despised.

There on the hillside, crowds were fed from Heav'n;

There in His teaching, spir'tual bread was giv'n;

He touched, He healed, He strengthened, Life anew He gave;

He came among us: He His sheep to save.

There in a body, Christ abode with us,

Obeying fully, living victorious!

He always pleased the Father, to His will He bent;

Knowing the full cost, to the cross He went.

There in a Garden, on His bended knees,

There hear His anguish, hear His fervent pleas:

There Father's will was spoken; to that will aligned.

There it was spoken: "Not My will but Thine."

Then in a Garden, see the empty grave;

He rose victorious, mighty then to save!

Delivered for our sins but raised to justify,

Brings us to Zion from dread Mount Sinai!

There in your heart enthrone Him Lord and King;

There in each action let His praises ring!

Let hallelujahs ring out now and for all days:

Unto Him only be eternal praise!

In the Darkness (Ps. 42)

I heard a Ukrainian folk song and became quite taken with its haunting melody.  After contemplating it for a while, I realized that the words and raw emotions of Psalm 42 could fit the mood of the song.  What follows is my first draft.  The lead sheet for this is at the bottom of this page.

In the darkness, apprehension comes and ends hope;

With the starkness of my sins I falter and grope.

Then Your promise comes to open up my eyes wide,

And like Thomas, I am bid to touch Your side.

I remember God, my God, my Rock and Tower—

Dying ember, longingly to seek Your power;

But You're still God, with my tongue and voice I'll praise You;

You I will laud, for You're holy, just and true.

Why so downcast? O my soul, fear not and tremble.

God is steadfast—He will hear me from His temple.

I will praise Him, He will lift me up to His throne.

And with glad hymns, He will claim me as His own.

Here is the youtube video of a mother / daughter duo playing banduras and singing the song in Ukrainian.

The lead sheet contains some suggestions for the intro and possible accompaniment.  It is not complete.

Portal to Peace

"Portal to Peace" by Sherry Lynn

I found a place within this hectic world

where tension ease and calm returns:

There where sun its hues unfurled

and sky with brilliance burns.

I walk along the shore ere night

(halfway between the light and dark)

descends and quenches all daylight,

yet there remain a light, a glimmering spark.

So too my soul finds joy in quiet thoughts:

A portal opened up to heavenly peace;

This calm, despite all day has brought,

Brings joy and bids all cares to cease. 

         D. Benning  © 2024

I Prefer Autumn

Blackwater Falls State Park, West Virginia

I prefer Autumn's gilded colors to the rusted hues of Fall.

Autumn comes with clear-cut steps, not halting as if stalled.

Fall has not the force to quick-end Summer's heat,

So leaves grow tired and brown and hang in sad defeat.

But Autumn, ah! crisp air of Autumn's voice,

Hale hints of ice and snow

           of rain and hail and wintry blow—

But spangled as the hills and vales rejoice

In red and orange and riotous yellowy spray,

That breath not taken by the cold and frost

Should be taken at the sight of nature glossed

          and garbed and decked in such array.

      

      But Fall, ungraced by art or artistry,

      Should honor Autumn—and her majesty.

                                        ©2024   D. Benning 

Cass, West Virginia

Just a Little While

 

                              Just a little while,

                                   all these cares will pass;

                              Just a little while—

                                   we know this earth won't last;

                              Just a little while,

                                   then loved ones we will meet;

                              For in a little while,

                                   we'll sit at Jesus' feet.

The Watchers 4: The Ghost Within, p.147

Across the Water

 

Photo by Steve Dale, Nov 2023

            Across the water,

               I see the bright lights beckoning,

               Dazzling, colorful, happy, and alluring.

            Yet I'm only here,

               Not there.

            Here is dark and cold and lonely;

               But there is a comfort in its familiarity,

               A kind of solace begot by consistency,

               Fraught with insistence

                       Pressing in all the time.

            Yet, I see the lights across the water.

               How can I get there?

               It's too cold and far to swim.

               No boat have I, no friend, no aide.

            Yet across the water,

               bright lights beckon with bold beacon.

               Who will bring me to that welcoming, warm abode?

               Is there a path, a trail, a road

                   so my angst might weaken?

               A course to bring me there

                      —Across the water?

            Yet still I sit in silence,

               staring across the water.

                       Wondering.

Night Is Still O'er Ancient Israel

 

New English words to the Russian Carol, Ночь тиха над Палестиной "Noch tikha nad Palestinoi"  ("Quiet Night Over Palestine")

You can see the original Russian version and

my line-by-line English translation here:  Ночь тиха над Палестиной

1.

Night is still o'er ancient Israel,

Earth is tired and slumbers on.

Mountains, forests, hills, and valleys—

Dark of night has hid them all.

2.

There in Bethlehem so wearied,

All the lights were finally out;

Only in remotest pastures,

Shepherds kept their night lookout.

3.

They knew nothing nor suspected;

So to pass the weary night,

Seated then they started talking,

With the comp'ny of firelight.

4.

Suddenly th'angelic voice came;

Trembling took the men with fear;

And in robes of snow-white brilliance,

[An] Angel of the Lord appeared.

5.

"Do not fear nor yet be anxious:

From the Lord in Heav'n Above,

Come I now with revelation

That your hearts rejoice in Love.

6.

"Mercy to the earth God sends now:

Christ, Himself, the Sovereign King.

Sinful earth He comes to ransom—

Gives Himself as offering!"

 

7.

(Repeat verse 1)

Night is still o'er ancient Israel,

Earth is tired and slumbers on.

Mountains, forests, hills, and valleys—

Dark of night has hid them all.

 

 

 

 

Listen to three versions of the original song sung in Russian:

• Дети Поют  (Children Sing)
  
  
• A group that uses the Дети Поют  (Children Sing) music track
  
  
• A Serbian Church choir

The Angels Sing

New English words to the Russian Carol, В Ночном Саду "V Nochnom Sadu"  ("In the Night Garden")

Original words and music by Vladimir Shishkarev.

You can see the original Russian version and
my English translation here: В Ночном Саду (In the Night Garden).

Lead sheet is found below.

1.

In Bethlehem upon a lonely night,

  Jehovah sent His Son,

The little Babe, so helpless in our sight—

  Salvation then begun.

  

  Chorus--

    The Angels sing, announcing Christ the King,

       The Wonders of His Love.

    Now come and see this blessed mystery—

       Immanuel from Above.

2.

The shepherds kept their flocks in fields at night

   All seated on the ground.

The angel of the Lord caused them great fright,

   The glory shone around.

  

  Chorus--

    The Angels sing, all glory to the King,

       To God who reigns on high.

    And peace on earth, the notice of his birth,

       His favor giv'n hereby.

3.

At once the shepherds left their flocks and ran

   To see this glorious sight.

The Babe was wrapped in swaddling clothes and laid

   In manger on that night.

  

  Chorus--

    So let us sing, proclaiming Christ as King,

       The Wonders of His Love.

    Then go and tell that God with us does dwell—

       Immanuel from Above.

    

Listen to three versions of the original song sung in Russian:

* Adult A cappella

* Children's Choir & Full Orchestra

* Дети Поют  (Children Sing)

O Come, Wedding Day!

The day has dawned in glory bright;
The sun has blessed the morn.
The groom now smiles as his delight
Draws near with joy adorned.

O Come, Wedding Day,
Come, Joy, bid sorr'ws away,
O come, Holy Spirit, with Grace Divine
To bless this couple here;
O come Holy Spirit with Grace Divine
To bless this couple here.

That Day will dawn in glory bright;
God's Son, the Light of Morn;
O see Him smile at His delight—
For her He wore the thorns.

O Come, Greatest Day,
Come, Lord, wipe tears away;
O come and now rapture Your people soon
To our eternal home;
O come and now rapture Your people soon
To our eternal home.

Sung to the tune of  O Come, Angel Band

Oglesby Photography

I Cried to God (Ps. 77)

1. I cried to God; I sought Him in great earnestness.
My spirit groaned: Where are the times of promises?
Will the Lord reject and cast away His favor?
Will He lay aside His mercy and His love?

  Chorus———
  To this I will appeal: the years of His right hand—
  the mighty hand of God above, the risen Son.
  Yesterday, today, and forever more—
  His Word is sure, His Kingdom come, His will be done!


2. Your ways, O God, are holy, just, and righteous.
There's none like You, displaying might with kindness.
See, Your mighty arm redeemed us as Your people;
Finish now the work that You began in love!

  Chorus———


3. O, light the way and thunder from Your dwelling place;
Rend now the heav'ns and show You might and awesome grace.
Till the nations see Your arm of might and glory,
Finishing the work that You began in love!

  Chorus———

To God Be the Glory

   I was listening to an old Russian hymn, О, Если б Навеки, and the tune became embedded in my mind.  Soon, I was imagining English words or maybe an existing English hymn fitted to the tune.  Next thing I knew I heard Fanny J. Crosby's old classic working it's way into the meter.  It works—almost.  In addition to Fanny's hymn having a chorus, the syllables of the verses are 11.11.11.11.  This tune, however, is 11.10.11.10.  Thus the second and fourth lines needed to be trimmed by one syllable.  Mission accomplished.

I like the new take on an old classic.  I like the bright sounds (in spite of a minor key) and the emphasis the music places on the last three syllables of the second & fourth lines.

Note: This was my first attempt to record over the internet with smart phones—Piano in one town and the Soprano in another, then mixing the two together.



To God be the glory, great things He has done!
So loved He the world that He gave His Son,
Who yielded His life an atonement for sin,
And opened the life-gate to bring us in.

O perfect redemption, the purchase of blood!
To ev'ry believer the pledge of God:
The vilest offender who truly believes,
That moment forgiveness from Christ receives.

Great things He has taught us, great things He has done,
And great our rejoicing through Christ the Son;
But purer and higher and greater will be
Our wonder, our transport when Christ we see!

O praise God, O praise Him! Let earth hear His voice!
Now praise ye the Lord, let His flock rejoice!
O come to the Father through Jesus the Son,
And give Him the glory for great things done!

It Is Not Frightful If

It is not frightful if you didn't find time for something
Or with years the step becomes shorter.
Much more frightful is when in a youthful body
There lives an empty, decrepit soul.

It is not frightful if you stumbled somewhere,
Or the ground falls away from under your feet.
Much more frightful is when under a layer of dust
The exhausted spirit has not strength to take a breath.

It is not frightful if you have beliefs
for which you will come to pay with your head.
Much more frightful is when mere opinion
Is elevated to the rank of holy truth.

It is not frightful if in somethings you are not confident
And look for a way and cry that it hurts.
Much more frightful is to meet a hypocrite,
Who is not confident, but talks loudly
Or remains silent before everyone
Eloquently in rotten Pharisaical rightness.

How frightful in seeing the Light but not being happy,
To follow after Him, but not to be in Christ.

Margarita Kolomiytseva


____________________________________________

The Original....

Не страшно если что-то не успели,
Или с годами стал короче шаг.
Куда страшнее, когда в юном теле
Живет пустая, дряхлая душа.

Не страшно если где-то оступились,
Или земля уходит из-под ног.
Куда страшней, когда под слоем пыли
Изжитый дух не в силах сделать вдох.

Не страшно если вам за убежденья
Придется поплатиться головой.
Куда страшнее, когда просто мненье
Возводится в ранг истины святой.

Не страшно, если в чем-то не уверен
И ищешь путь, и плачешь, что болит.
Куда страшнее встретить лицемера,
Который не уверен, но кричит,
Или молчит при всех красноречиво
В прогнившей фарисейской правоте.

Как страшно видя свет не быть счастливым,
Ходить за Ним, но не быть во Христе.

Маргарита Коломийцева

Imagine I Will That

Imagine I will that my pain is like coffee,
Hot, strong, driving slumber away.
It is needed so that I crawled to Golgotha,
So that the spirit of slumber was awakened to life.



Imagine I will that my pain is medicine,
Which necessarily must be drunk often.
I need it so that I might arise
And again fully, holy to live.





Imagine I will that my pain is hauberk*
So to protect from arrows that the enemy hurls;
And then in battle I will see along side a friend,
And so I will understand who is a friend and who is not.

Imagine I will that my pain is like a lens,
So to see and understand the pain of others,
So to learn to pray sincerely
And to my neighbors without pretense to sympathize.

Imagine I will that my pain is like moisture
Living in the scorching hot heat.
I drink it and I find good
And faith I find and rest.


* chain mail

By Margarita Kolomiytseva


 ------------  Original ----------- 

Представлю я, что боль моя, как кофе
Горячий, крепкий, прочь гонящий сон.
Она нужна, чтоб я ползла к Голгофе,
Чтоб дух от сна был к жизни пробужден.

Представлю я, что боль моя – лекарство,
Которое необходимо часто пить.
Она нужна, чтоб я могла подняться,
И снова полноценно, свято жить.

Представлю я, что боль моя – кольчуга,
Чтоб защитить от стрел, что мечет враг;
А в битве я увижу рядом друга,
Пойму кто друг, а кто не друг –а так.

Представлю я, что боль моя, как линза,
Чтоб боль других увидеть и понять,
Чтоб научиться искренне молиться
И ближним без притворства сострадать.

Представлю я, что боль моя, как влага
Живящая в палящий жаркий зной.
Я пью ее и обретаю благо
И веру обретаю, и покой.

Маргарита Коломийцева 

The Forgotten Feast

Another poem by Margarita Kolomiytseva

The forgotten feast of God's table,

I again partake, as if for the first time.

Like a dry leaf in the palm of my hand I grieve,

And I repent in ashes for my deeds.

The soul is cleansed like an orange

From the rough skin of petty ambition.

I don't want to pray to other gods,

There is only one, heavenly Lord.

There, somewhere on the ruins of a dream,

A submissive humility begins to glow.

Let grow out of the dust an adoration

And understanding of God's beauty.

Often to me God's plan is not clear,

And though His design I see as gray,

Faith, spread your bright watercolors,

And I will go confidently into the fog.

----------- the original ---------------------

Забытый праздник Божьего стола,
Я снова, словно в первый раз вкушаю.
Как лист сухой в ладони сокрушаюсь,
И каюсь в пепле за свои дела.

Очищена душа, как апельсин
От грубой кожи мелочных амбиций.
Я не хочу другим богам молиться,
Есть лишь один, небесный Господин.

Там, где-то, на развалинах мечты,
Затеплилось покорное смиренье.
Пусть вырастет из праха восхищенье,
И пониманье Божьей красоты.

Мне часто не понятен Божий план,
И пусть Его дизайн я вижу серым,
Разлейся акварелью яркой вера,
И я пойду уверенно в туман.

I am Making My Way

More poetry by Margarita Kolomiytseva

I am making my way to You in the dark through a thicket of fear,

A torn spirit in blood — Your grace will heal.

I will fall into your good hands with hope. In a big way

I will fall into Your glorious will and be silent.

I'm making my way to You in the dark through the thicket of death,

You are stronger than death, you are more reliable than a thousand years.

Your divine finger in the sand draws its designs

And at some point it will usher you with triumphant into the never-ending light.

I'm making my way to You through a thicket of dark anxiety.

I know You without fail will turn on all the stars of heaven,

To light the way; and the soul will rest in God,

Once again so clearly seeing Golgotha's saving Cross.

----------------- the original ----------------------

Продираюсь к Тебе в темноте через заросли страха,
В кровь разодранный дух уврачует Твоя благодать.
Упаду в Твои руки благие с надеждой. С размахом
Упаду в Твою дивную волю и буду молчать.

Продираюсь к Тебе в темноте через заросли смерти,
Ты сильнее чем смерть, Ты надёжней чем тысяча лет.
Твой божественный перст на песке Свои замыслы чертит
И однажды введёт с торжеством в нескончаемый свет.


Продираюсь к Тебе через заросли темной тревоги.
Знаю, Ты обязательно включишь все звезды небес,
Чтобы путь осветить; и душа успокоится в Боге,
Вновь так ясно увидев Голгофский спасающий крест.

Let Us Dream of Heaven

My rough translation of a Russian poem:

Let us dream of Heaven every moment of earth,
So that from our eyes oozes the longed-for Paradise
And infects others with holy yearning;
Let the heart dream of Heaven constantly.

So that my every step is a step toward You,
So that my every breath is a breath for the sake of the Kingdom.
So that the faint spirit against the storm is not roughened,
Grant this slave such consistency.

Let us measure life not by force, nor by intelligence,
Not by power, nor by passing glory.
So that I, by fire's testing
For endurance, will have proven genuine.

I know my path is measured out by You,
All more often by a groan and only sometimes with a song,
So that my earthly mind is grounded,
And to learn only of Heaven to dream.

~ Margarita Kolomiytseva


-------------- The Original --------------


Дай грезить небом каждый миг земной,
Чтобы из глаз сочился рай желанный
И заражал других святой тоской;
Дай сердцу грезить небом постоянно.

Чтоб каждый шаг мой, шагом был к Тебе,
Чтоб каждый вдох, был вдохом ради Царства.
Чтоб слабый дух от бурь не огрубел,
Даруй рабе такое постоянство.

Дай мерить жизнь не силой, не умом,
Не властью и не славой проходящей.
Чтоб мне, при испытании огнем
На прочность, оказаться настоящей.

Я знаю, путь мой вымерен Тобой,
Всё чаще стоном и лишь где-то песней,
Чтоб разземнился разум мой земной,
И научиться только небом грезить.

~ Маргарита Коломийцева

The Doctrine of God's Sovereignty

My rough translation of a Russian poem

The Doctrine of God's Sovereignty
Both creates and destroys...
What preparation toward eternity
For an unbridled soul.

When her wants screams,
And the "I" out of pain cries,
The Doctrine of God's Sovereignty
So unpleasantly chafes her neck.

But when the flesh, having confess in frailty,
Having accepted pain submissively, is silent,
The Doctrine of God's Sovereignty
So benevolently targets her.

~ Margarita Kolomiytseva


------------- The Original ----------------

Доктрина Божьей суверенности
И созидает, и крушит...
Какая подготовка к вечности
Для необузданной души!

Когда вопят её потребности,
И «Я» от боли вопиёт,
Доктрина Божьей суверенности
Так неприятно шею трёт.

Когда же плоть, признавшись в бренности,
Приняв покорно боль, молчит,
Доктрина Божьей суверенности
Её так благостно целит.

~ Маргарита Коломийцева

Не Привыкайте — Do Not Grow Used To

Words by: Margarita Kolomiytseva 
                (Маргарита Коломийцева)

English translation by: David Benning

Do not grow used to the beauty of woodlands,
To serenity of night, to the magic of a dawn,
To the velvety lavender richness of an espresso**,
And to the warmth of someone's casual words.

Do not grow used to books and rain,
To peals of thunder and winds so cold,
To your taking tea with amber-colored honey,
Or inhaling the smell of the morning sun.

Do not grow used to old cities,
To their houses nor their familiar streets,
To churches on estated manors, either humble or huge,
And to long conversations, heart-to-heart.

Breathe fully and deeply.  Life is not forever.
Appreciate every moment.
Remember!
And above all...
Do not grow used to love...
Do not grow used to loved ones ever!

** Line 3: Author's word: ристретто, ristretto.
     Ristretto is a short shot of espresso coffee made with half the water
     but the same amount of grounds.  Thus more concentrated.


The author's comments on the poem:

Недавно мне написала одна девушка и попросила разрешение снять клип на мои слова. Во время съемок у нее обнаружили опухоль и для нее стихотворение приобрело совсем иной, очень личный смысл.

Послушайте, что получилось.

Recently, a girl wrote to me and asked for permission to shoot a clip of my words. During the filming, she was diagnosed with a tumor and the poem acquired a very different, very personal meaning for her.

Listen to what happened.

To someone who missed the point of her poem, she wrote:

Ты совсем не понял основную мысль. Не привыкайте, значит не обесценивайте. Когда мы к чему-то привыкаем, мы перестаём это ценить.

You don't understand the basic idea at all. Don't get used to it, so don't devalue it. When we get used to something, we stop appreciating it.

Here on Earth Life is Short

Наша жизнь коротка

Here on earth life is short,
as a bird flies away;
racing on, rushing past,
ebbing out, ending day.

As a shadow our life
here on earth to us giv'n;
after dusk in the dark
shadows gone, from us driv'n.

Like a flow'r of the grass,
in the morn brightly blooms;
swelt'ring heat of the day
withered then ere night's gloom.

Life is like sounding noise,
sounding out from a block,
sudden fright is our life,
then is gone—see the shock!

Careless soul on life's course,
Don't you think of these things:
Soon you'll die then face God,
brief your time — now threats bring.

Now's the time, time to care,
search for Christ, O my friend!
You will find joy in Him,
His salvation He_will send.

The music as Simon and friends sing it with the English translation.

 Another version, as if a Russian congregation sang it.

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