A friend of ours wrote this to us in a card she gave us on our wedding day, way back when. . .
(From the biblical Book of Proverbs; chapter 5, verses 18-19):
May your fountain be blessed, and may you rejoice in the wife of your youth.
A loving hind, a graceful doe - may her breasts satisfy you always, may you be ever captivated by her love.
-------------------------
Oh, I am; I truly am. . .
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Monday, November 16, 2009
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Sun and Moon, Bless the Lord. . .
Fall is my favorite time of the year - the crisp, cool air, and the multi-colored trees (like Nature's own tie-dye, eh Lime?) just quicken my steps and bring a joyful smile to my face. When I'm out on my bike on days like that, I simply can't keep myself from grinning as I pedal, just from the sheer joy of being alive in such a world. And I think of how, at the end of each Day of Creation, "God saw that it was good."
It calls to my mind our vacation this past summer, when Molly and I and our four youngest kids stayed for a week in a cabin Up North. A few times during the week, we visited the nearby Cross In the Woods, a Catholic shrine a few miles from where we were staying. The shrine is run by the Franciscan order, which organizes its life around the teachings and ideals of St. Francis of Assisi. St. Francis is a very interesting man, eccentric and holy in the way that is almost unique to certain canonized saints of the Roman Catholic Church.
At the Cross In the Woods, there is a lovely little nature walk (and if you know anything about St. Francis, a nature walk is right up his alley, so to speak), with little stations along the way, each displaying a verse from St. Francis' Canticle of the Sun, a nature hymn which Francis wrote shortly before he died. I had generally ignored the Canticle, figuring that, as popular as it was among certain Catholics of an 'enviro-leftist' persuasion, especially back in the 60s/70s, that it might be somewhat dubiously 'orthodox'.
But, you know, I've grown in some ways, in the last 30 years, and I've come to appreciate many things of which my younger self was dubious. And I've always enjoyed walking in the woods. So, on our recent vacation, I happily set out to enjoy the shrine's nature walk, and the thought and spirit of St. Francis. And I found the Canticle, at least as rendered into English on the walk, to be utterly delightful. And so, I offer it here for the enjoyment of my friends:
-------------------------
Canticle of the Sun (St. Francis of Assisi; ca. 1225)
Most High, All-Powerful, All-Good Lord!
All praise, and honor and glory are Yours, and all blessing.
They are Yours alone, Most High,
And no one is worthy to mention Your Name.
All praise be Yours, my Lord, through all that You have made,
Especially Brother Sun, who brings the day and the light.
How beautiful is he, and how radiant;
He bears Your likeness.
All praise be Yours, my Lord, through Sister Moon, and the stars.
In Heaven You made them, bright and precious and fair.
All praise be Yours, my Lord, through Brother Wind,
And through the air, cloudy and serene, and every kind of weather
By which You cherish all that You have made.
All praise be Yours, my Lord, through Sister Water,
So useful, lowly, precious and pure.
All praise be Yours, my Lord, through Brother Fire,
Through whom You light the night.
He is beautiful, playful, robust and strong.
All praise be Yours, my Lord, through Sister Earth, our mother,
Who feeds us in her sovereignty,
And produces various fruits and colored flowers and herbs.
All praise be Yours, my Lord, through those who grant pardon for love of You,
And those who endure sickness and tribulation.
Happy are those who endure in peace;
By You, Most High, they will be crowned.
All praise be Yours, my Lord, through our sister, Bodily Death,
From whom no one can escape.
Woe to those who die in mortal sin.
But happy are those whom she finds doing Your holy will;
The second death can do them no harm.
Praise and bless my Lord,
And give Him thanks,
And serve Him with great humility.
-------------------------
St. Francis here is much more than a 13th-century proto-enviro-greenie. He rejoices in the Creation, and offers his gratitude to the Creator who shows His love to us, His creatures, in and through the goodness of the world He created for us to live in.
There are echoes here of the Judaeo-Christian scriptures, especially Psalm 148 and the deutero-canonical Canticle of the Three Young Men (in Catholic/Orthodox bibles, it is placed in the Book of Daniel between verses 23 and 24 of chapter 3), which was sung by Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego from within the fiery furnace. Also the hymn All Creatures of Our God and King, which was a favorite of our minister in the church in which I grew up (and which, it turns out, was specifically intended as a musical rendition of St. Francis' Canticle).
God is good, and worthy of thanks and praise, for He made the world good, and gave it to us to live in. . .
-------------------------
(edit 25Oct) - I got out on my bike yesterday; the 27 miles I got in put me over 1200 for the year (for the third consecutive year). It was a damp, dank, dungy gray day, but these are the peak-color days around here; for mile after mile, even though it was gray and overcast and occasionally spitting rain, I was riding through brilliantly yellow, orange and red trees, mixed with the last remaining bits of green. And today, the sun is out and the colors are just luminous.
Did I mention that fall is my favorite season? . . .
It calls to my mind our vacation this past summer, when Molly and I and our four youngest kids stayed for a week in a cabin Up North. A few times during the week, we visited the nearby Cross In the Woods, a Catholic shrine a few miles from where we were staying. The shrine is run by the Franciscan order, which organizes its life around the teachings and ideals of St. Francis of Assisi. St. Francis is a very interesting man, eccentric and holy in the way that is almost unique to certain canonized saints of the Roman Catholic Church.
At the Cross In the Woods, there is a lovely little nature walk (and if you know anything about St. Francis, a nature walk is right up his alley, so to speak), with little stations along the way, each displaying a verse from St. Francis' Canticle of the Sun, a nature hymn which Francis wrote shortly before he died. I had generally ignored the Canticle, figuring that, as popular as it was among certain Catholics of an 'enviro-leftist' persuasion, especially back in the 60s/70s, that it might be somewhat dubiously 'orthodox'.
But, you know, I've grown in some ways, in the last 30 years, and I've come to appreciate many things of which my younger self was dubious. And I've always enjoyed walking in the woods. So, on our recent vacation, I happily set out to enjoy the shrine's nature walk, and the thought and spirit of St. Francis. And I found the Canticle, at least as rendered into English on the walk, to be utterly delightful. And so, I offer it here for the enjoyment of my friends:
-------------------------
Canticle of the Sun (St. Francis of Assisi; ca. 1225)
Most High, All-Powerful, All-Good Lord!
All praise, and honor and glory are Yours, and all blessing.
They are Yours alone, Most High,
And no one is worthy to mention Your Name.
All praise be Yours, my Lord, through all that You have made,
Especially Brother Sun, who brings the day and the light.
How beautiful is he, and how radiant;
He bears Your likeness.
All praise be Yours, my Lord, through Sister Moon, and the stars.
In Heaven You made them, bright and precious and fair.
All praise be Yours, my Lord, through Brother Wind,
And through the air, cloudy and serene, and every kind of weather
By which You cherish all that You have made.
All praise be Yours, my Lord, through Sister Water,
So useful, lowly, precious and pure.
All praise be Yours, my Lord, through Brother Fire,
Through whom You light the night.
He is beautiful, playful, robust and strong.
All praise be Yours, my Lord, through Sister Earth, our mother,
Who feeds us in her sovereignty,
And produces various fruits and colored flowers and herbs.
All praise be Yours, my Lord, through those who grant pardon for love of You,
And those who endure sickness and tribulation.
Happy are those who endure in peace;
By You, Most High, they will be crowned.
All praise be Yours, my Lord, through our sister, Bodily Death,
From whom no one can escape.
Woe to those who die in mortal sin.
But happy are those whom she finds doing Your holy will;
The second death can do them no harm.
Praise and bless my Lord,
And give Him thanks,
And serve Him with great humility.
-------------------------
St. Francis here is much more than a 13th-century proto-enviro-greenie. He rejoices in the Creation, and offers his gratitude to the Creator who shows His love to us, His creatures, in and through the goodness of the world He created for us to live in.
There are echoes here of the Judaeo-Christian scriptures, especially Psalm 148 and the deutero-canonical Canticle of the Three Young Men (in Catholic/Orthodox bibles, it is placed in the Book of Daniel between verses 23 and 24 of chapter 3), which was sung by Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego from within the fiery furnace. Also the hymn All Creatures of Our God and King, which was a favorite of our minister in the church in which I grew up (and which, it turns out, was specifically intended as a musical rendition of St. Francis' Canticle).
God is good, and worthy of thanks and praise, for He made the world good, and gave it to us to live in. . .
-------------------------
(edit 25Oct) - I got out on my bike yesterday; the 27 miles I got in put me over 1200 for the year (for the third consecutive year). It was a damp, dank, dungy gray day, but these are the peak-color days around here; for mile after mile, even though it was gray and overcast and occasionally spitting rain, I was riding through brilliantly yellow, orange and red trees, mixed with the last remaining bits of green. And today, the sun is out and the colors are just luminous.
Did I mention that fall is my favorite season? . . .
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
At the Name of Jesus
A hymn/poem for Holy Week. . .
At the Name of Jesus, by Caroline Noel, (1870)
At the name of Jesus, every knee shall bow,
Every tongue confess Him King of Glory, now.
‘Tis the Father’s pleasure we should call Him Lord,
Who from the beginning was the mighty Word.
Humbled for a season, to receive a name
From the lips of sinners, unto whom He came.
Faithfully He bore it, spotless to the last.
Brought it back victorious, when through death He passed.
Bore it up triumphant, with its human light
Through all ranks of creatures to the central height;
To the throne of Godhead, to the Father’s breast
Filled it with the glory of that perfect rest.
In your hearts enthrone Him; there let Him subdue
All that is not holy, all that is not true.
Crown Him as your Captain in temptation’s hour;
Let His will enfold you in its Light and Pow’r.
Jesus, Lord and Savior, shall return again
With His Father’s glory, o’er the earth to reign.
For all wreaths of empire meet upon His brow,
And our hearts confess Him King of Glory, now. . .
-------------------------
For a Catholic, Holy Week (between Palm Sunday and Easter) is just a liturgically-rich environment, just packed full of significance to drive home what Christ has done for us. . .
Starting on Holy Thursday, with the Mass of the Last Supper, in which we commemorate Jesus' institution of the Eucharist (or Holy Communion), and his washing of the disciples' feet - our priests actually take a basin and water and wash the feet of a dozen parishioners, which just makes it all the more 'real' that what Jesus did for the Twelve, he does also for us. One year, I was one of the foot-washees, and I completely understood Peter's impulse of, "uh, please, you can't do this to me. . ."
On Good Friday, at noon, we have the Good Friday service. Good Friday is the only day of the year that Catholic churches don't have Mass - the altar, and the church building generally is stripped bare. The priests enter and leave the church in silence, and the entire liturgy is just somber, as we reflect on Christ's work on our behalf, on the cross. There is a liturgy of veneration of the Cross, and a communion service. Just because I'm the kind of goofball that I am (and may God have mercy on me), I always get a wry chuckle from the General Intercessions in the Good Friday prayers. There is a series of intercessions that follow an apparent 'progression' - first, for the Catholic Church, then for the pope, the bishops and all clergy, for those entering the Church this Easter, then for all Christians, for the Jewish people, for those who don't believe in Christ, for those who don't believe in God, and lastly, for those in public office. I'm pretty sure that the prayers don't have quite the 'significance' that seems apparent to me from the 'progression', but I always get a chuckle from them. . .
On Good Friday evening, we go to a Tenebrae ('shadows') service. Most parishes don't have a Tenebrae service, and ours doesn't, either, but one of the perks of living in the see city of our diocese, is that the Cathedral is right downtown in OurTown, and they have a Tenebrae service there. Tenebrae is a powerful liturgy, symbolizing the apparent 'Triumph of Darkness' as Christ is in the tomb, and His impending ultimate Victory. Through a series of prayers, the candles on the altar (and the lights in the entire church) are progressively extinguished, until a single candle remains lit, in an otherwise pitch-dark church. And then, that single candle is hidden behind the altar, symbolizing Christ hidden in the tomb. The first time I attended a Tenebrae service, and the last candle was hidden, it provoked a sense of utter despair, as I could mentally/spiritually 'place myself' in the situation of the first disciples, who had placed their hopes in Jesus, and to see him brutally killed, and placed in the grave - very much a sense of, what are we gonna do now? And then, the single candle re-emerges from its hiding place, so much as to say, 'Not so fast; wait till you see what comes next'. . . And the service again ends in silence.
And after sunset on Holy Saturday is the Easter Vigil Mass - the richest, most wonderful liturgy on the entire Church calendar. I won't bore you with all the details, but it begins in darkness. The Easter candle is blessed, and the fire from the Easter candle is distributed to everyone in the church, as they light their candles from its flame, until the church is lit by the light of all the candles. The candles are extinguished, and the Exsultet - the ancient Christian Hymn of Victory - is sung, followed by a series of readings (in our parish, we usually do three readings, but there could be as many as seven), which collectively tell the story of Salvation History - typically beginning with God's creation of the world, and including the story of the Exodus, and a passage from one of the prophets. After this, the lights are turned on (in symbolism of passing from the Old Testament to the New, and the Advent of Christ, and His Resurrection) and the Gloria is sung, followed by a reading from one of the New Testament Epistles, and a reading from the Gospel.
The Easter Vigil is also when people are typically received into the Catholic Church, and baptisms and confirmations are also included in the liturgy. This year, our family has been 'instructing' a young man, in preparation of his being received into the Catholic Church. A friend of 4M's decided he wanted to become Catholic, but there wasn't a 'neat' way to handle his instruction - he was too old to just include him in the regular confirmation class (typically 8th/9th graders), but still a bit young to just have him follow the regular 'adult' course of instruction. So, they asked our family if we could just handle his instruction, and for the past several months, we've had him over every Sunday to join our family for brunch, and then we retire to the 'study' for the week's instruction. And this Saturday evening, at the Easter Vigil, it all comes to its culmination, and our young friend will enter into life as a confirmed Catholic Christian. It has been a rich and rewarding time for our family (it always seems that you learn as much, or more, by teaching something, as you do from being taught), as well as for him.
Sunday, we'll host as many members of Molly's family as come, for Easter dinner, and family celebration - Easter baskets for the kids (over the years, Molly has developed a tradition of a 'hunt' for the Easter baskets, using Bible verses as clues, the final one leading them to where the baskets are stored), and a dinner of roast lamb (the Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world, dontcha know).
All together, it's just a wonderfully rich time in the life of our family, and the Catholic Church more generally. Blessings to all of you, whether Catholic or not, during, and through, the holy days to come. . .
At the Name of Jesus, by Caroline Noel, (1870)
At the name of Jesus, every knee shall bow,
Every tongue confess Him King of Glory, now.
‘Tis the Father’s pleasure we should call Him Lord,
Who from the beginning was the mighty Word.
Humbled for a season, to receive a name
From the lips of sinners, unto whom He came.
Faithfully He bore it, spotless to the last.
Brought it back victorious, when through death He passed.
Bore it up triumphant, with its human light
Through all ranks of creatures to the central height;
To the throne of Godhead, to the Father’s breast
Filled it with the glory of that perfect rest.
In your hearts enthrone Him; there let Him subdue
All that is not holy, all that is not true.
Crown Him as your Captain in temptation’s hour;
Let His will enfold you in its Light and Pow’r.
Jesus, Lord and Savior, shall return again
With His Father’s glory, o’er the earth to reign.
For all wreaths of empire meet upon His brow,
And our hearts confess Him King of Glory, now. . .
-------------------------
For a Catholic, Holy Week (between Palm Sunday and Easter) is just a liturgically-rich environment, just packed full of significance to drive home what Christ has done for us. . .
Starting on Holy Thursday, with the Mass of the Last Supper, in which we commemorate Jesus' institution of the Eucharist (or Holy Communion), and his washing of the disciples' feet - our priests actually take a basin and water and wash the feet of a dozen parishioners, which just makes it all the more 'real' that what Jesus did for the Twelve, he does also for us. One year, I was one of the foot-washees, and I completely understood Peter's impulse of, "uh, please, you can't do this to me. . ."
On Good Friday, at noon, we have the Good Friday service. Good Friday is the only day of the year that Catholic churches don't have Mass - the altar, and the church building generally is stripped bare. The priests enter and leave the church in silence, and the entire liturgy is just somber, as we reflect on Christ's work on our behalf, on the cross. There is a liturgy of veneration of the Cross, and a communion service. Just because I'm the kind of goofball that I am (and may God have mercy on me), I always get a wry chuckle from the General Intercessions in the Good Friday prayers. There is a series of intercessions that follow an apparent 'progression' - first, for the Catholic Church, then for the pope, the bishops and all clergy, for those entering the Church this Easter, then for all Christians, for the Jewish people, for those who don't believe in Christ, for those who don't believe in God, and lastly, for those in public office. I'm pretty sure that the prayers don't have quite the 'significance' that seems apparent to me from the 'progression', but I always get a chuckle from them. . .
On Good Friday evening, we go to a Tenebrae ('shadows') service. Most parishes don't have a Tenebrae service, and ours doesn't, either, but one of the perks of living in the see city of our diocese, is that the Cathedral is right downtown in OurTown, and they have a Tenebrae service there. Tenebrae is a powerful liturgy, symbolizing the apparent 'Triumph of Darkness' as Christ is in the tomb, and His impending ultimate Victory. Through a series of prayers, the candles on the altar (and the lights in the entire church) are progressively extinguished, until a single candle remains lit, in an otherwise pitch-dark church. And then, that single candle is hidden behind the altar, symbolizing Christ hidden in the tomb. The first time I attended a Tenebrae service, and the last candle was hidden, it provoked a sense of utter despair, as I could mentally/spiritually 'place myself' in the situation of the first disciples, who had placed their hopes in Jesus, and to see him brutally killed, and placed in the grave - very much a sense of, what are we gonna do now? And then, the single candle re-emerges from its hiding place, so much as to say, 'Not so fast; wait till you see what comes next'. . . And the service again ends in silence.
And after sunset on Holy Saturday is the Easter Vigil Mass - the richest, most wonderful liturgy on the entire Church calendar. I won't bore you with all the details, but it begins in darkness. The Easter candle is blessed, and the fire from the Easter candle is distributed to everyone in the church, as they light their candles from its flame, until the church is lit by the light of all the candles. The candles are extinguished, and the Exsultet - the ancient Christian Hymn of Victory - is sung, followed by a series of readings (in our parish, we usually do three readings, but there could be as many as seven), which collectively tell the story of Salvation History - typically beginning with God's creation of the world, and including the story of the Exodus, and a passage from one of the prophets. After this, the lights are turned on (in symbolism of passing from the Old Testament to the New, and the Advent of Christ, and His Resurrection) and the Gloria is sung, followed by a reading from one of the New Testament Epistles, and a reading from the Gospel.
The Easter Vigil is also when people are typically received into the Catholic Church, and baptisms and confirmations are also included in the liturgy. This year, our family has been 'instructing' a young man, in preparation of his being received into the Catholic Church. A friend of 4M's decided he wanted to become Catholic, but there wasn't a 'neat' way to handle his instruction - he was too old to just include him in the regular confirmation class (typically 8th/9th graders), but still a bit young to just have him follow the regular 'adult' course of instruction. So, they asked our family if we could just handle his instruction, and for the past several months, we've had him over every Sunday to join our family for brunch, and then we retire to the 'study' for the week's instruction. And this Saturday evening, at the Easter Vigil, it all comes to its culmination, and our young friend will enter into life as a confirmed Catholic Christian. It has been a rich and rewarding time for our family (it always seems that you learn as much, or more, by teaching something, as you do from being taught), as well as for him.
Sunday, we'll host as many members of Molly's family as come, for Easter dinner, and family celebration - Easter baskets for the kids (over the years, Molly has developed a tradition of a 'hunt' for the Easter baskets, using Bible verses as clues, the final one leading them to where the baskets are stored), and a dinner of roast lamb (the Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world, dontcha know).
All together, it's just a wonderfully rich time in the life of our family, and the Catholic Church more generally. Blessings to all of you, whether Catholic or not, during, and through, the holy days to come. . .
Monday, October 13, 2008
I Get a Little Highbrow (With Help From My Friends)
This is probably as close as I’ll get in this blog to political commentary. . .
-------------------------
Choruses from ‘The Rock’, by T. S. Eliot
VI
It is hard for those who have never known persecution,
And who have never known a Christian,
To believe these tales of Christian persecution.
It is hard for those who live near a Bank
To doubt the security of their money.
It is hard for those who live near a Police Station
To believe in the triumph of violence.
Do you think that the Faith has conquered the World
And that lions no longer need keepers?
Do you need to be told that whatever has been, can still be?
Do you need to be told that even such modest attainments
As you can boast in the way of polite society
Will hardly survive the Faith to which they owe their significance?
. . .
Why should men love the Church? Why should they love her laws?
She tells them of Life and Death, and of all that they would forget.
She is tender where they would be hard, and hard where they like to be soft.
She tells them of Evil and Sin, and other unpleasant facts.
They constantly try to escape
From the darkness outside and within
By dreaming of systems so perfect that no one will need to be good.
But the man that is will shadow
The man that pretends to be. . .
-------------------------
Choruses from ‘The Rock’, by T. S. Eliot
VI
It is hard for those who have never known persecution,
And who have never known a Christian,
To believe these tales of Christian persecution.
It is hard for those who live near a Bank
To doubt the security of their money.
It is hard for those who live near a Police Station
To believe in the triumph of violence.
Do you think that the Faith has conquered the World
And that lions no longer need keepers?
Do you need to be told that whatever has been, can still be?
Do you need to be told that even such modest attainments
As you can boast in the way of polite society
Will hardly survive the Faith to which they owe their significance?
. . .
Why should men love the Church? Why should they love her laws?
She tells them of Life and Death, and of all that they would forget.
She is tender where they would be hard, and hard where they like to be soft.
She tells them of Evil and Sin, and other unpleasant facts.
They constantly try to escape
From the darkness outside and within
By dreaming of systems so perfect that no one will need to be good.
But the man that is will shadow
The man that pretends to be. . .
Thursday, July 24, 2008
As the Ruin Falls
As the Ruin Falls (by CS Lewis)
All this is flashy rhetoric about loving you.
I never had a selfless thought since I was born.
I am mercenary and self-seeking through and through:
I want God, you, all friends, merely to serve my turn.
Peace, reassurance, pleasure, are the goals I seek,
I cannot crawl one inch outside my proper skin:
I talk of love – a scholar’s parrot may talk Greek –
But self-imprisoned, always end where I begin.
Only that now you have taught me (but how late) my lack.
I see the chasm. And everything you are was making
My heart into a bridge by which I might get back
From exile, and grow man. And now the bridge is breaking.
For this I bless you as the ruin falls. The pains
You give me are more precious than all other gains.
-------------------------
I'll be gone volunteering at a kids' summer camp, starting Saturday, and I'll be gone all next week. Try to keep things together in my absence, and I'll see you all in August. . .
All this is flashy rhetoric about loving you.
I never had a selfless thought since I was born.
I am mercenary and self-seeking through and through:
I want God, you, all friends, merely to serve my turn.
Peace, reassurance, pleasure, are the goals I seek,
I cannot crawl one inch outside my proper skin:
I talk of love – a scholar’s parrot may talk Greek –
But self-imprisoned, always end where I begin.
Only that now you have taught me (but how late) my lack.
I see the chasm. And everything you are was making
My heart into a bridge by which I might get back
From exile, and grow man. And now the bridge is breaking.
For this I bless you as the ruin falls. The pains
You give me are more precious than all other gains.
-------------------------
I'll be gone volunteering at a kids' summer camp, starting Saturday, and I'll be gone all next week. Try to keep things together in my absence, and I'll see you all in August. . .
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silence
An old hymn, from the 4th-century Liturgy of St. James (translated from Greek into English by Gerard Moultrie):
Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silence
Let all mortal flesh keep silence
And in fear and trembling stand.
Ponder nothing earthly-minded,
For with blessing in His hand
Christ our God to earth descendeth
Our full homage to demand.
King of kings, yet born of Mary,
As of old on earth He stood.
Lord of lords in human vesture,
In the body and the blood.
He will give to all the faithful
His own self for heavenly food.
Rank on rank the host of Heaven
Spreads its vanguard on the way,
As the Light of light descendeth
From the realms of endless day,
That the powers of Hell may vanish
As the darkness clears away.
At His feet the six-winged seraph;
Cherubim with sleepless eye
Veil their faces to the Presence
As with ceaseless voice they cry:
Alleluia! Alleluia!
Alleluia, Lord Most High!
(8 comments)
Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silence
Let all mortal flesh keep silence
And in fear and trembling stand.
Ponder nothing earthly-minded,
For with blessing in His hand
Christ our God to earth descendeth
Our full homage to demand.
King of kings, yet born of Mary,
As of old on earth He stood.
Lord of lords in human vesture,
In the body and the blood.
He will give to all the faithful
His own self for heavenly food.
Rank on rank the host of Heaven
Spreads its vanguard on the way,
As the Light of light descendeth
From the realms of endless day,
That the powers of Hell may vanish
As the darkness clears away.
At His feet the six-winged seraph;
Cherubim with sleepless eye
Veil their faces to the Presence
As with ceaseless voice they cry:
Alleluia! Alleluia!
Alleluia, Lord Most High!
(8 comments)
Friday, December 22, 2006
Christmas Poetry Corner
Good Is the Flesh (by Brian Wren)
Good is the flesh that the Word has become
Good is the birthing, the milk in the breast,
Good is the feeding, caressing and rest,
Good is the body for knowing the world,
Good is the flesh that the Word has become.
Good is the body for knowing the world,
Sensing the sunlight, the tug of the ground,
Feeling, perceiving, within and around,
Good is the body, from cradle to grave,
Good is the flesh that the Word has become
Good is the body, from cradle to grave,
Growing and aging; arousing, impaired
Happy in clothing, or lovingly bared,
Good is the pleasure of God in our flesh.
Good is the flesh that the Word has become.
Good is the pleasure of God in our flesh,
Longing in all, as in Jesus to dwell,
Glad of embracing and tasting and smell,
Good is the body, for good and for God,
Good is the flesh that the Word has become.
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I love this poem because it is so ‘incarnational’. It bespeaks God, in Christ, taking on human flesh – that life in the body is good, and the dignity of human bodily life is only enhanced by God taking it on Himself. Through the Incarnation, God takes our embodied-ness, and fills it with Himself. No longer is He remote from us; His knowledge of us is not merely that of ‘Creator on High’ – He has walked in our world as one of us, hungered and thirsted, stubbed His toe, and ultimately, died.
“Good is the flesh,” indeed. It is not merely that God created human flesh, although it has a dignity that inheres simply to God having made it, and in His image, no less. But even more, the Word became flesh. Emmanuel – God with us.
Awesome.
(14 comments)
Good is the flesh that the Word has become
Good is the birthing, the milk in the breast,
Good is the feeding, caressing and rest,
Good is the body for knowing the world,
Good is the flesh that the Word has become.
Good is the body for knowing the world,
Sensing the sunlight, the tug of the ground,
Feeling, perceiving, within and around,
Good is the body, from cradle to grave,
Good is the flesh that the Word has become
Good is the body, from cradle to grave,
Growing and aging; arousing, impaired
Happy in clothing, or lovingly bared,
Good is the pleasure of God in our flesh.
Good is the flesh that the Word has become.
Good is the pleasure of God in our flesh,
Longing in all, as in Jesus to dwell,
Glad of embracing and tasting and smell,
Good is the body, for good and for God,
Good is the flesh that the Word has become.
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I love this poem because it is so ‘incarnational’. It bespeaks God, in Christ, taking on human flesh – that life in the body is good, and the dignity of human bodily life is only enhanced by God taking it on Himself. Through the Incarnation, God takes our embodied-ness, and fills it with Himself. No longer is He remote from us; His knowledge of us is not merely that of ‘Creator on High’ – He has walked in our world as one of us, hungered and thirsted, stubbed His toe, and ultimately, died.
“Good is the flesh,” indeed. It is not merely that God created human flesh, although it has a dignity that inheres simply to God having made it, and in His image, no less. But even more, the Word became flesh. Emmanuel – God with us.
Awesome.
(14 comments)
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