1 Open my eyes, that I may see
glimpses of truth thou hast for me;
place in my hands the wonderful key
that shall unclasp and set me free.
Silently now I wait for thee,
ready, my God, thy will to see.
Open my eyes, illumine me, Spirit divine!
The Atlantic magazine publishes archived articles from time to time reaching back through the publication's long history from the mid-19th century. Recently it was a moving piece by Helen Keller from 1933 -- yes, blind and deaf Helen Keller of Miracle Worker movie fame.
It's called Three Days to See but she reflects on the gift of the senses and our tendency to take them for granted despite living in a world of remarkable beauty. She notes that we act as though we assume our senses are a convenience when they add fullness to life. What if we were blind and given three days to see? What might our priorities be? Here is an excerpt about sight:
Now and then I have tested
my seeing friends to discover what they see. Recently I was visited by a very
good friend who had just returned from a long walk in the woods, and I asked
her what she had observed. "Nothing in particular," she replied. I
might have been incredulous had I not been accustomed to such responses, for
long ago I became convinced that the seeing see little.
How was it possible, I asked
myself, to walk for an hour through the woods and see nothing worthy of note? I
who cannot see find hundreds of things to interest me through mere touch. I
feel the delicate symmetry of a leaf. I pass my hands lovingly about the smooth
skin of a silver birch, or the shaggy rough bark of a pine. In spring I touch
the branches of trees hopefully in search of a bud, the first sign of
awakening Nature after her winter's sleep.
I feel the delightful, velvety
texture of a flower, and discover its remarkable convolutions; and something of
the miracle of Nature is revealed to me. Occasionally, if I am fortunate, I
place my hand gently on a small tree and feel the happy quiver of a bird in
full song. I am delighted to have the cool waters of a brook rush through my
open fingers. To me a lush carpet of pine needles or spongy grass is more
welcome than the most luxurious Persian rug. To me the pageant of seasons is a
thrilling and unending drama, the action of which streams through my
fingertips.
The article is lengthy and is now more than 80 years old. There is both a poignancy and timeliness about it which is striking in our time when we fail to see and hear what is about us, and we bombarded by noise. The majority of us have been blessed by both the senses which Keller did not possess yet she is a prophet about both, and a savant regarding touch.
Our prayer this three-day Canada Day weekend can be that God will open our eyes that we may see. We can taste and touch and listen and smell and give praise and thanksgiving for all.
voices of truth thou sendest clear;
and while the wavenotes fall on my ear,
everything false will disappear.
Silently now I wait for thee,
ready, my God, thy will to see.
Open my ears, illumine me, Spirit divine!
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