Pursue

Friends, it is 2016 (obviously). I am still trying to wrap my brain around that fact. I sit here on my veranda this afternoon, 75 degrees of sunshine, a man speaking Luganda in a microphone a distance away, a church down the road lifting their voices, 

Come thou fount of every blessing, tune my heart to sing thy grace;

Streams of mercy, never ceasing, call for songs of loudest praise.

Teach me some melodious sonnet, sung by flaming tongues above.

Praise the mount! I'm fixed upon it, mount of thy redeeming love.