AnthonyFosterPhD

Those who flee temptation generally leave a forwarding address. - Lane Olinghouse

Sometimes when a song comes to me it seems so familiar and complete that I can’t distinguish whether I have already written it or not. This is one of those moments. It has been written one way in early August and now another expression is due. The first took a corporate direction and this version is more intimate and personal, I think. Make My Heart Completely Yours Make my heart completely Yours Give me grace and make me pure Give me mercy to endure And make my heart, Make my heart, Make my heart completely Yours. Give your strong support As I dwell within your courts As I dedicate myself to one desire As my soul repents Grant me confidence To obey and do what you require I would do justly, I would love mercy, Walking humbly with the Lord my God As to this I’m set apart Distractions all depart I seek the comfort of your staff and rod. Make my heart completely Yours Give me grace and make me pure Give me mercy to endure And make my heart, Make my heart, Make my heart completely Yours...

A prophet to dry places Called to the wandering He sees their haunted faces Laughing, crying, lingering And he knows their hearts are heavy And he know they are confused Buying wholesale in the marketplace Any new deal that they choose He knows they have everything to lose. Here in the aereopagus Of shattered dreams and ploys Their sorrow terminates their trust And renders songs to noise. He’s a prophet to the pagan And a harbinger of love For those who dare not hope to plan To raise their eyes above One word may be enough. For once he was a prisoner Now he is set free And he dare not cheat the listeners Now he cannot keep his peace. A tiller of unfertile fields A keeper of lost sheep A survivor who’s been truly healed And rescued from the deep. Now he weeps with those who weep In the desert of the classroom In the offices and bars From the blight of the boardrooms To the cults and culture wars To the one who violates the womb To the ones who bear the scars In these holy halcyon days ...

I have danced to mercy's music And I've flown on eagle's wings And I 've marched to love's strong drumbeat As I've burnt my offerings Until nothing's left but shalom There's no despair left to face And I find I am a rich man Resting in this blessed place. Here in the green pastures of grace. For I wandered as a seeker Searching for that greener grass long bewildered, I grew weaker As I starved for that which lasts Never knowing there's a banquet Set and waiting for the child Who wills but to receive it Who is willing to believe it Those who enter from the wild. Those redeemed and reconciled. There we find the stiller waters We have chosen to lie down And I want to see my daughters And my sons and brothers now Lying peaceful here beside me In this most peculiar place Here where the shadows falter Where the heart becomes the altar Here in the green pastures of grace. Here in the green pastures of grace. Here in the green pastures of grace. August 27, ...

I was on a bulletin board for Parkinson's caregivers by 1989, published my first webpage in 1993, was into Shockwave in 95, taught "internet literacy" from '98-03 and started blogging in 2003. So's I went out to the World Wide Web and did a little web surfing on the infobahn this morning. Then a long distance call came in on my personal digital assistant about something someone read on my weblog. Now that is REALLY dating yourself. Here are the Business Week 12 words that are so passe as to embarrass you... Who wants to do that?

Ancestry.com has a new datasource this week- I suddenly have a hankering for a piece of cake...

I'm up for this - first thing I'll do when I get a life. Ready to ditch cable if it weren't for Turner Classic Movies.