[OPEN]Christian Poetry

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karen freeinchristman

More of You and less of me, Lord!
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Hey guys, I thought it would be nice to share some of our favourites. I'll start. :)



The Bright Field

I have seen the sun break through
to illuminate a small field
for a while, and gone my way
and forgotten it. But that was the pearl
of great price, the one field that had
the treasure in it. I realise now
that I must give all that I have
to possess it. Life is not hurrying
on to a receding future, nor hankering after
an imagined past. It is the turning
aside like Moses to the miracle
of the lit bush, to a brightness
that seemed as transitory as your youth
once, but is the eternity that awaits you.


(R.S. Thomas, from Laboratories of the Spirit, 1975)​
 

gtsecc

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Written by St. Thomas Aquinas (1225-1274) for the Solemnity of Corpus Christi, this hymn is considered the most beautiful of Aquinas' hymns and one of the great seven hymns of the Church. The rhythm of the Pange Lingua is said to have come down from a marching song of Caesar's Legions: "Ecce, Caesar nunc triumphat qui subegit Gallias." Besides the Solemnity of Corpus Christi, this hymn is also used on Holy Thursday. The last two stanzas make up the Tantum Ergo (Down in Adoration Falling) that is used at Benediction of the Blessed Sacrament.


Pange, lingua, gloriosi

Sing, my tongue, the Saviour's glory,
Of His Flesh the mystery sing;
Of the Blood, all price exceeding,
Shed by our immortal King,
Destined, for the world's redemption,
From a noble womb to spring.
Of a pure and spotless Virgin
Born for us on earth below,
He, as Man with man conversing,
Stay'd, the seeds of truth to sow;
Then He closed in solemn order
Wondrously His life of woe.
On the night of that Last Supper,
Seated with His chosen band,
He the Paschal victim eating,
First fulfils the Law's command;
Then, as Food to His Apostles Gives
Himself with His own hand.
Word made Flesh, the bread of nature
By His word to Flesh He turns;
Wine into His Blood He changes:-
What though sense no change discerns?
Only be the heart in earnest,
Faith her lesson quickly learns.
Therefore, we, before It bending,
This great Sacrament adore;
Types and shadows have their ending
In the new rite evermore:
Faith, our outward sense amending,
Maketh good defects before.
Honor, laud, and praise addressing
To the Father and the Son,
Might ascribe we, virtue, blessing,
And eternal benison:
Holy Ghost, from both progressing, E
qual laud to Thee be done.

Amen.


Or, in the original Latin:

Pange lingua gloriosi
Corporis mysterium,
Sanguinisque pretiosi,
Quem in mundi pretium
Fructus ventris generosi,
Rex effudit gentium.
Nobis datus, nobis natus
Ex intacta Virgine
Et in mundo conversatus,
Sparso verbi semine,
Sui moras incolatus
Miro clausit ordine.
In supremae nocte cenae
Recum bens cum fratribus,
Observata lege plene
Cibis in legalibus,
Cibum turbae duodenae
Se dat suis manibus
Verbum caro, panem verum
Verbo carnem efficit:
Fitque sanguis Christi merum,
Et si sensus deficit,
Ad firmandum cor sincerum
Sola fides sufficit.
Tantum ergo Sacramentum
Veneremur cernui:
Et antiquum documentum
Novo cedat ritui:
Praestet fides supplementum
Sensuum defectui.
Genitori, Genitoque
Laus et iubilatio,
Salus, honor, virtus quoque
Sit et benedictio:
Procedenti ab utroque
Compar sit laudatio.
Amen.

Or

Sing, my tongue, the glorious battle,
sing the last, the dread affray;
o'er the cross, the victor's trophy,
sound the high triumphal lay,
how, the pains of death enduring,
earth's Redeemer won the day.

When at length the appointed fulness
of the sacred time was come,
he was sent, the world's Creator,
from the Father's heavenly home,
and was found in human fashion,
offspring of the virgin's womb.

Now the thirty years are ended
which on earth he willed to see,
willingly he meets his passion,
born to set his people free;
on the cross the Lamb is lifted,
there the sacrifice to be.

There the nails and spear He suffers,
vinegar and gall and reed;
from His sacred body piercèd
blood and water both proceed:
precious flood, which all creation
from the stain of sin hath freed.

Part II:
Faithful Cross, above all other,
one and only noble Tree,
none in foliage, none in blossom,
none in fruit thy peer may be;
sweet the wood, and sweet the iron,
and thy load, most sweet is he.

Bend, O lofty Tree, thy branches,
thy too rigid sinews bend;
and awhile the stubborn hardness,
which thy birth bestowed, suspend;
and the limbs of heaven's high Monarch
gently on thine arms extend.

Thou alone wast counted worthy
this world's Ransom to sustain,
that a shipwrecked race for ever
might a port of refuge gain,
with the sacred Blood anointed
of the Lamb for sinners slain.

May be sung at end of either part:
Praise and honor to the Father,
praise and honor to the Son,
praise and honor to the Spirit,
ever Three and ever One:
one in might, and One in glory,
while eternal ages run.
 
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Fish and Bread

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Hey Glenn, I think one thing you and I can probably agree on is that the feast of Corpus Christi ought to be celebrated more widely in the Episcopal Church. Do you know what can be done about getting it on the lectionary calendar? I really miss the fact that this ancient feast is so rarely celebrated.
 
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Fish and Bread

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A Fish and Bread original, inspired by Lent:

On the rocky steps of calvary,
A thief will find his savior.

On the rocky steps of calvary,
three men will meet their maker.

On the rocky steps of calvary,
Will not one try to save her?

On the rocky steps of calvary.
Mary, undefiled,

On the rocky steps of calvary,
Her many children, convicted as one.

On the rocky steps of calvary,
Their only chance, her only son.

Without her tears, could the victory be won?

On the rocky steps of calvary,
Yeshua nailed up high.
Nails through his hands,
Tears in her eye.

On the rocky steps of calvary,
God is killed by man.

On the rocky steps of calvary,
All goes according to plan.

On the rocky steps of calvary,
victory and loss are as one.

On the rocky steps of calvary,
the clouds hide behind the son.

On the rocky steps of calvary,
destiny is calling sweetly.

On the rocky steps of calvary,
the savior is sighly weakly.

On the rocky steps of calvary.
 
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AngCath

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The Annunciation of the Blessed Virgin (From The Christian Year) by John Keble

OH Thou who deign'st to sympathize
With all our frail and fleshly ties,
Maker yet Brother dear,
Forgive the too presumptuous thought,
If, calming wayward grief, I sought
To gaze on Thee too near.
Yet sure twas not presumption, Lord,
Twas thine own comfortable word
That made the lesson known:
Of all the dearest bonds we prove,
Thou countest sons' and mothers' love
Most sacred, most thine own.
When wandering here a little span,
Thou took'st on Thee to rescue man,
Thou hadst no earthly sire:
That wedded love we prize so dear,
As if our heaven and home were here,
It lit in Thee no fire.
On no sweet sister's faithful breast
Wouldst thou thine aching forehead rest,
On no kind brother lean:
But who, O perfect filial heart,
E'er did like Thee a true son's part,
Endearing, firm, serene?
Thou wept'st, meek maiden, mother mild,
Thou wept'st upon thy sinless child,
Thy very heart was riven:
And yet, what mourning matron here
Would deem thy sorrows bought too dear
By all on this side Heaven?
A son that never did amiss,
That never sham'd his mother's kiss,
Nor cross'd her fondest prayer:
Even from the three he deign'd to bow
For her his agonized brow,
Her, his sole earthly care.
Ave Maria! blessed Maid!
Lily of Eden's fragrant shade,
Who can express the love
That nurtur'd thee so pure and sweet,
Making thy heart a shelter meet
For Jesus' holy Dove?
Ave Maria! Mother blest,
To whom caressing and caress'd
Clings the Eternal Child;
FavourÅd beyond Archangels' dream,
When first on thee with tenderest gleam
Thy new-born Saviour smil'd:
Ave Maria! Thou whose name
All but adoring love may claim,
Yet may we reach thy shrine;
For He, thy Son and Saviour, vows
To crown all lowly lofty brows
With love and joy like thine.
Bless'd is the womb that bare Him bless'd
The bosom where his lips were press'd,
But rather bless'd are they
Who hear his word and keep it well,
The living homes where Christ shall dwell,
And never pass away.
 
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artrx

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Three of my favorites from Gerard Manley Hopkins;​
God's Grandeur

The world is charged with the grandeur of God.
It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;
It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil
Crushed. Why do men now reck his rod?
Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;
And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;
And wears man's smudge and shares man's smell:the soil
Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.​

And for all this, nature is never spent;
There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;
And though the last lights off the black West went
Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs-
Because the Holy ghost over the bent
World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.​



The WindHover
To Christ our Lord

I caught this morning morning's minion, king-
dom of daylight's dauphin, dapple-dawn-drawn Falcon,
in his riding
Of the rolling level underneath him steady air, and striding
High there, how he rung upon the rein of a wimpling wing
In his ecstasy! then off, off forth in swing,
As a skate's heel sweeps smooth on a bow-bend: the
hurl and gliding
Rebuffed the big wind. My heart in hiding
Stirred for a bird,- the achieve of, the mastery of the thing.​

Brute beauty and valour and act, oh, air, pride, plume,
here
Buckle! AND the fire that breaks from thee then, a billion
Times told lovelier, more dangerous. O my chevalier!​

No wonder of it: sheer plod makes plough down sillion
Shine, and blue-bleak embers, ah my dear,
Fall, gall themselves, and gash gold-vermillion.​

Pied Beauty

Glory be to God for dappled things-
For skies of couple-color as a brinded cow;
For rose-moles in all stipple upon trout that swim;
Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches' wings;
Landscape plotted and pieced - fold, fallow, and plough;
And all trades, thier gear and tackle and trim.
All things counter, original, spare, strange;
Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)
With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, adim;
He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change;
Praise him.

(For some reason they did not print in the form I wrote them in- there are indents in various places and spaces that were removed?)​
 
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Tomoz

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I love 'Pied Beauty' as well Artrx!!

Here is one from John Donne:

D[SIZE=-1]EATH[/SIZE] be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not so,
For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee,[SIZE=-2][/SIZE]
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee doe goe,
Rest of their bones, and soules deliverie.
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poyson, warre, and sicknesse dwell,[SIZE=-2][/SIZE]
And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well,
And better then thy stroake; why swell'st thou then;
One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.

And from George Herbert:

Love bade me welcome, yet my soul drew back,
Guilty of dust and sin.
But quick-ey'd Love, observing me grow slack
From my first entrance in,
Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning
If I lack'd anything.

"A guest," I answer'd, "worthy to be here";
Love said, "You shall be he."
"I, the unkind, the ungrateful? ah my dear,
I cannot look on thee."
Love took my hand and smiling did reply,
"Who made the eyes but I?"

"Truth, Lord, but I have marr'd them; let my shame
Go where it doth deserve."
"And know you not," says Love, "who bore the blame?"
"My dear, then I will serve."
"You must sit down," says Love, "and taste my meat."
So I did sit and eat.
 
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Colabomb

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These are technically lyrics, not poetry. And fair warning, they are a bit off the wall

MewithoutYou "A glass can only spill what it contains"
a cat came drifting onto my porch from the outside cold
and with eyes closed, drinking warm milk from my bowl,
thought:

"nobody hears me!(nobody hears me)
I crept in so soft!
and nobody sees me!(nobody sees me)
as I watched six steps off."

like the peacocks wandering the walkways of the zoo
who have twice the autonomy the giraffes and the tigers do,
saying:

"no one can stop me,(no one can stop me)
no one clips my claws!
now everyone watch me(everyone watch me)
scale these outside walls!"
you took the puous and profane,
turned around the praise and blame,
said "a glass can only spill what it contains"
To the perpetually plain and the incurably inane
a glass can only spill what it contains

what new mystery is this?
what blessed backwardness??
the Immeasurable One is held and does not resist!
struck by wicked words and foolish fists of senseless men
the Almighty One does not defend!

I was halfway listening to what she thinks she knows
We're like children dressing in our parents' clothes, saying:

"Nobody knows me,(nobody knows me)
no one knows my name,
No, nobody knows me,(nobody knows me)
nobody knows me..."
I half-heartedly explained
but gave up peacefully ashamed
as a glass can only spill what it contains
we went to Portugal and Spain
and in her mind the entire time it rained!
a glass can only spill what it contains

what new mystery is this? in overflowing emptiness
the Invisible is seen among the shadows and the mist,
before my doubting eyes the Infinite appears in time-
the Unquestionable is questioned but makes no reply!

what new mystery is this(x5)?!
"my Rabbi!"
my lips betray with a kiss

what new mystery is this?
 
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