Bliss Redux

In general, I suppose I agree in part that hymns need to be modernized. So I wish to offer my latest sacred music effort, “Jesus paid it all, but he opted for the 30-month, no-money-down plan all the same.” Nuance is what you scorn until someone else’s brush is too broad for you. What do you suppose the adjective “professional” signifies on a roll of toilet tissue?
Porridger’s Almanack (Breakfast of Ganglions)

"Five years ago, I was a four-stone apology. To-day, I am two separate gorillas."

— The late, great Viv Stanshall of the Bonzo Dog Doo-Dah Band in “Mister Apollo,”
a parody of bodybuilder Charles Atlas, né Angelo Siciliano.

As reported here, I have undertaken to re-score Things Like Bliss (originally for clarinet in A, two guitars and de minimis double-bass) for clarinet and harp. I have always thought fondly of the piece. Let us stipulate that at the outset. Possibly because of my present unsettled situation, in the back of my mind I have run hot and cold (or warm and cold, anyway) on the task of adaptation. I have nevertheless chipped away at the work. I am now at roughly measure 171 (of 416) and if (my unwavering affection for the piece notwithstanding) my apparent lack of real enthusiasm in the present work means that I am indifferent as to when I may finish, I embrace the fact that there is no need to rush or press.