Sunday, November 28, 2010
His Grace
"In Him we have redemption through His blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of His grace which He lavished on us. In all wisdom and insight He made known to us the mystery of His will, according to His kind intention which He purposed in Him with a view to an administration suitable to the fullness of the times, that is, the summing up of all things in Christ, things in the heavens and things on the earth. In Him also we have obtained an inheritance, having been predestined according to His purpose who works all things after the counsel of His will, to the end that we who were the first to hope in Christ would be to the praise of His glory." Ephesians 1:7-12
Saturday, November 27, 2010
The sickness of the soul
A sweet love which bloomed in Spring,
grew strong in Summer's radiance,
but weakened in Autumn's grievance,
withered and faded with winter's sting.
Thoughts that spread like cancer,
Bombards my feelings with vile ulcers.
My soul is weary, sick and beaten.
I stand asunder, sad and broken.
grew strong in Summer's radiance,
but weakened in Autumn's grievance,
withered and faded with winter's sting.
Thoughts that spread like cancer,
Bombards my feelings with vile ulcers.
My soul is weary, sick and beaten.
I stand asunder, sad and broken.
I Wake and Feel the Fell of Dark
I wake and feel the fell of dark, not day ,
What hours, O what black hours we have spent
This night! what sights you, heart, saw; ways you went!
And more must, in yet longer light's delay.
With witness I speak this. But where I say
Hours I mean years, mean life. And my lament
Is cries countless, cries like dead letters sent
To dearest him that lives alas! away.
I am gall, I am heartburn. God's most deep decree
Bitter would have me taste: my taste was me;
Bones built in me, flesh filled, blood brimmed the curse.
Selfyeast of spirit a dull dough sours. I see
The lost are like this, and their scourge to be
As I am mine, their sweating selves; but worse.
Gerard Manley Hopkins (1844-1889)
What hours, O what black hours we have spent
This night! what sights you, heart, saw; ways you went!
And more must, in yet longer light's delay.
With witness I speak this. But where I say
Hours I mean years, mean life. And my lament
Is cries countless, cries like dead letters sent
To dearest him that lives alas! away.
I am gall, I am heartburn. God's most deep decree
Bitter would have me taste: my taste was me;
Bones built in me, flesh filled, blood brimmed the curse.
Selfyeast of spirit a dull dough sours. I see
The lost are like this, and their scourge to be
As I am mine, their sweating selves; but worse.
Gerard Manley Hopkins (1844-1889)
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Victory
My love,
Where is your strength?
Where is your armour and sword?
Where is your joy and peace?
Do not slack, or sleep
or pause a moment,
for the enemy is fierce.
He is most threatened when you are doing the will of God.
Be alert and do your first works.
Draw near to Me,
Fill your spirit with the daily bread
and follow the footsteps of the flock.
I desire that you conquer all things
with overwhelming victory!
Where is your strength?
Where is your armour and sword?
Where is your joy and peace?
Do not slack, or sleep
or pause a moment,
for the enemy is fierce.
He is most threatened when you are doing the will of God.
Be alert and do your first works.
Draw near to Me,
Fill your spirit with the daily bread
and follow the footsteps of the flock.
I desire that you conquer all things
with overwhelming victory!