#hymn

my favorite hymn

by brisss (pronounced brie)

people often say, “brisss, hot potato by the wiggles is not a hymn.”

this is a surprisingly common misunderstanding.

it brings people together.

everybody knows the words.

it teaches valuable life skills involving temperature.

that sounds like a hymn to me.

some people think the potato itself is symbolic.

i agree.

the potato represents goodness.

it is dependable.

it has never betrayed me.

unlike pickles.

this is something people don’t talk about enough.

a potato knows exactly what it is.

a pickle used to be a cucumber.

then one day it completely changed.

nobody asks why.

everybody just accepts it.

personally, i find that concerning.

people say, “brisss, it’s just pickling.”

Exactly.

if something can completely change its personality after sitting in a jar for a while, how am i supposed to trust it?

a potato would never do that.

a potato has integrity.

it wakes up every morning and chooses to remain a potato.

i respect that.

this is another reason hot potato is a hymn.

it celebrates one of nature’s most honest vegetables.

imagine if the song were called hot pickle.

nobody would sing it.

because nobody trusts a hot pickle.

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Blessed Hestia, Keeper of the Sacred Flame, Gentle Guardian whose hearth bears every name, You ask for no thunder, no crown of gold, Only a warm fire and hearts made bold.

In every home where kindness grows, In every ember's gentle glow, Your quiet presence softly stays, Lighting ordinary days.

You teach that love is built by hand, With shared bread and a helping hand. In every meal, in every song, You remind us where we belong.

First to receive the offered wine, Last to bless the sacred shrine, You bind together kin and friend, With faithful warmth that does not end.

O Holy Flame that never fades, Guide us through life's changing shades. Keep our spirits calm and bright, Fill our homes with peace and light.

May our words be gentle, Our tables full, Our hearts grateful, Our welcome true.

Hestia, Lady of the Hearth, May your eternal fire burn within us always, Teaching us that the greatest magic is found In love freely given, In peace carefully tended, And in the sacred warmth of home.

Lay not up to yourselves treasures on earth: where the rust, and moth consume, and where thieves break through and steal.

But lay up to yourselves treasures in heaven: where neither the rust nor moth doth consume, and where thieves do not break through, nor steal.