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The Things Which Remain by Daniel A. Goodsell

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There is an awful penalty in the fact that this sense of loss may be
eternal. The consciousness of limited powers, the certainty that so much
is lost, never to be regained, is surely a fire that is not quenched; a
worm that dieth not!

[Sidenote: Limitation by Sin.]

[Sidenote: Illustrations.]

[Sidenote: Strength and Disuse.]

But how much more awful the thought that this limitation of the nature
by sin, whether of body or soul, may affect the soul through unending
life without fitness for any pleasure or delight possible to that
state! The company of good and refined men and women is here little less
than hell to a bad and coarse man, if he is compelled to stay in it.
There is nothing in the spirit, aim, and employments of such that he can
measure. He can understand the delights of eating and drinking. Even
then it is the coarse foods and the drunk-bringing drink that he most
enjoys. He can understand noise, coarse jokes, but not quiet
conversation, nor the play of a delicate wit. When the pleasure of life
is sensual, bodily, the capacity for mental and moral pleasure slowly
diminishes, and at last dies. Project such a soul into the company of
the redeemed; place it where the body has no existence, and therefore no
pleasure to give; compel it to remain among those whose every thought is
pure, and whose eyes are fixed on the "King in His beauty," and, like
the rich man, it will lift its eyes in torment, and ask for "water to
cool his parched tongue."

* * * * *

It is no part of my aim to say a final word on any of these great
truths, even if I deemed myself capable thereof.

[Sidenote: Aim and Intent.]

[Sidenote: Confirmation by Experience.]

[Sidenote: Effect on the Bible.]

[Sidenote: The Coming of Revelation.]

But it is my hope to point out the way in which we find our faith
strengthened, and to show that the great truths of Christianity will
survive the most radical criticism of the Scriptures. Every one of these
truths has increasing confirmation as we accumulate the teachings of
science, history, and religious experience. The Bible will never be
superseded, because it contains the struggle of every type of soul
Godward, and because its record of what the Lord said and did; of what
He was, and of what the apostles thought Him to be, stands as the
verification of what we know Him to be. The Bible and experience are
mutually illuminating and corroborative. It is possible that the Church
receiving the deposit of truth orally from the apostles, might have
passed that truth down orally, and by her ordinances, illustratively as
she did, until the Gospels were written; as she must do now in lands
where the people can not read, having no written language. To avoid,
however, the defects of human memory and to accumulate a standard by
which teaching and experience should be verified, "God who at sundry
times and in divers manners spake in times past unto the fathers, hath
in these last days spoken unto us by His Son;" through His Son to the
apostles; and by the apostles and their successors to us; those
successors being not those made so by the touch of a human hand; but by
God's transforming grace, giving to every believer power and privilege
"to speak the things we do know." "We having the same spirit of faith;
according as it is written, I believed, and therefore have I spoken, we
also believe, and therefore speak; knowing that He which raised up the
Lord Jesus, shall raise us up also by Jesus, and shall present us with
you. For all things are for your sakes, that the abundant grace might,
through the thanksgiving of many, redound to the glory of God."












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We do not know the women's names, but their voices are quite distinct. All are pregnant. But while the first woman awaits the birth of her baby with a moon-like serenity, the other two are not so lucky. One, whose previous pregnancies have failed to go to term, is experiencing a heartbreaking late miscarriage; the other is a young student whose accidental pregnancy will end in her child being put up for adoption.

Sylvia Plath's only play was never intended for the stage, being broadcast instead on BBC radio in August 1962. Less than six months later, Plath killed herself, but not before the burst of astonishing creative energy that produced her extraordinary, terrifying Ariel poems.

Anyone who knows Plath's poetry will see the connection between Three Women and Plath's subsequent poems, particularly in the way she talks about the agony of childbirth, the rush of love for this tiny alien being, and both the wonder and wounded rawness of motherhood. It is a beautiful piece, full of startling imagery that draws you in through the sheer intensity of its femaleness, and because it so precisely articulates the emotions that are often thought but seldom voiced by women - certainly not in the early 1960s - about men, motherhood and our relationship to our bodies.

It's been 20 years since there has been an attempt at a professional stage version and - in a theatre world that happily accepts the poetic offerings of Sarah Kane and Debbie Tucker Green, or the staged possibilities of The Waves, one of Plath's own inspirations for the piece, I see no reason why it shouldn't be brought to life. Sadly, it doesn't breathe here, in a production by Robert Shaw that is clearly a labour of love, but which never finds a way to give the internal a physical reality. Plath's poetry, like most babies, is more robust than it appears - and won't break if treated with a little less reverence and considerably more grit.

Instead, what we are offered is tinkling piano music, mournful mood lighting, an innocuous pale setting, as well as three perfectly good but indisputably ladylike performances that capture none of the wounded redness of Plath's poetry, and do her the disservice of making her sound bleached and somewhat prissy. It's a pity. What might have been a wonder ends up a mere curiosity.

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