Oh Spirit — how may I enter God’s presence? How find a door that lets me in,When my heart feels tinged with the shadow of darknessAnd this flesh — burdened from the first with sin?Let there be some healing ointment —Some sweet smelling herb be found,To take away these blemished spotsThat the heart of me…
“Rejoice,” said the Sun; "I will make thee gayWith glory and gladness and holiday;I am dumb, O man, and need thy voice!”But man would not rejoice.Rejoice in thyself, said he, “O sun,For thy daily course is a lordly one;In thy lofty place rejoice if thou can:For me, I am only a man.”"Rejoice,” said the Wind;…
All Joy reminds. It is never a possession , always a desire for something longer ago or further away or still ‘about to be.’ CS Lewis, Surprised by Joy
Oh Spirit of my Father – where art Thou? Thou Glad, Bright, Beautiful Being? Thou who makes’t the winds to blow,And the waves to roll, and mountains all trembling?Thou art in the thunder, and also in the windBut behold – a greater thing take flight,When the God of all power comes downTo whisper to a…
Sometimes I wake up out of a light sleep, to find that my mind has been huddled over it’s little spinning wheel, fretting and working to spin a thread, some little yarn of a dreamy story. I don’t know if it’s only me, or if it happens to anyone else. In those moments it appears…
To dream the most lovely and precious of dreams– A vision of love and of life so dear,To travel a road that’s uncertain – full of strifeAnd bring beauty to life, make the unseen appearTo follow on a star only seen from afar And hope, when that hoped for is still out of sight,To love,…
O wind of God, that blowest in the mind,Blow, blow and wake the gentle spring in me;Blow, swifter blow, a strong warm summer wind,Till all the flowers with eyes come out to see;Blow till the fruit hangs red on every tree,And our high-soaring song-larks meet thy dove-High the imperfect soars, descends the perfect love!Blow not…
What a wonderful thing here comes to the mind –That a lamb has come, both humble and meekNot waving great swords or with strength of a rodBut to lift heavy hearts, and to strengthen the weak To awake in our hearts that Spirit Divine Not to build earthly armies or buildings of stone –But a…
All in the golden afternoonFull leisurely we glide;For both our oars, with little skill,By little arms are plied.While little hands make vain pretenceOur wanderings to guide.Ah, cruel Three! In such an hour,Beneath such dreamy weather,To beg a tale of breath too weakTo stir the tiniest feather!Yet what can one poor voice availAgainst three tongues together?Imperious…
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