His Power & Love, My Love & Trust=One Place Everywhere

The Temper

How should I praise thee, Lord! how should my rhymes
Gladly engrave thy love in steel,
If what my soul doth feel sometimes,
My soul might ever feel!

Although there were some forty heavens, or more,
Sometimes I peer above them all;
Sometimes I hardly reach a score,
Sometimes to hell I fall.

O rack me not to such a vast extent;
Those distances belong to thee:
The world’s too little for thy tent,
A grave too big for me.

Wilt thou meet arms with man, that thou dost stretch
A crumb of dust from heav’n to hell?
Will great God measure with a wretch?
Shall he thy stature spell?
O let me, when thy roof my soul hath hid,
O let me roost and nestle there:
Then of a sinner thou art rid,
And I, of hope and fear.

Yet take thy way; for sure thy way is best:
Stretch or contract me, thy poor debtor:
This is but tuning of my breast,
To make the music better.

Whether I fly with angels, fall with dust,
Thy hands made both, and I am there:
Thy power and love, my love and trust
Make one place ev’ry where.

• by George Herbert

A Thought - мысль - un pensamiento - wazo - ein Gedanke

What if this present were the world's last night
Mark in my heart, O soul, where thou dost dwell...

Что если сегодня было вчера мира?

имейте внимание к моему сердцу, душу, чему вы ...

¿Qué si el hoy era el ayer por la noche del mundo?

tenga atención a mi corazón, alma, qué usted cree...

Nini kama sasa huyu wa mwisho wa dunia usiku?
Katika moyo wangu, Ee nafsi, ambapo wewe makao
Picha ya Kristo aliyesulubiwa…

Was, wenn heutiger Tag das gestern Abend der Welt waren?

haben Sie Aufmerksamkeit zu meinem Herzen, Seele, was Sie glauben...

• John Donne, from Holy Sonnet XIII

Christmas Poem of Early Christian Era

Corde natus ex Parentis (Of the Father's love begotten)


Of the Father's love begotten
Ere the worlds began to be,
He is the Alpha and Omega,
He the Source, the Ending He,
Of things that are, that have been,
And that future years shall see.
Evermore and evermore.


O, that birth forever blessed!
When the virgin, full of grace,
By the Holy Ghost conceiving,
Bore the Saviour of our race;
And the Babe, the world's Redeemer,
First revealed His sacred face,
Evermore and evermore.


O, ye heights of heaven, adore Him;
Angel hosts, His praises sing;
Powers, dominions bow before Him,
And extol our God and King;
Let no tongue on earth be silent,
Every voice in concert ring,
Evermore and evermore.

• Aurelius Clemens Prudentis, written before 413 AD

(Latin poet of Christian antiquity, a one-time Roman official, turned monk)

Gentle Yet Powerful

[Will return to more 'Reflections' after the weekend. For now, I am posting a language-and-spelling adjusted poem by George Herbert, from his work The Temple printed in 1633.]

The God of love, my Shepherd is,
And he that doth me feed:
While he is mine, and I am his,
What can I want or need?

He leads me to the tender grass,
Where I both feed and rest;
Then, to the streams that gently pass:
In both I have the best.

Or if I stray, he doth convert
And bring my mind in frame:
And all this not for my dessert,
But for his holy name.

Yea, in death’s shads black abode
Well may I walk, not fear:
For thou art with me; and thy rod
To guide, thy staff to bear.

Nay, thou dost make me sit and dine,
Ev’n in my enemies sight:
My head with oil, my cup with wine
Runs over day and night.

Surely thy sweet and wondrous love
Shall measure all my days;
And as it never shall remove,
So neither shall my praise.

• George Herbert

Christmas Calm...

Peace

My Soul, there is a country
Far beyond the stars,
Where stands a winged sentry
All skillful in the wars,
There above noise, and danger
Sweet peace sits with crown’d smiles,
And one born in a Manger
Commands the beauteous files,

He is thy gracious friend,
And (O my soul awake!)
Did in pure love descend
To die here for thy sake,
If thou canst get but thither,
There grows the flower of Peace,
The Rose that cannot wither,
Thy fortress, and thy ease;

Leave then thy foolish ranges;
For none can thee secure,
But one, who never changes,
Thy God, thy Life, thy Cure.

• Henry Vaughan

Consolation of Christ

How do you distill in words the power and touch of the consolation of the living, resurrected Christ in the human heart?
It's difficult to distill in words. George Herbert makes an attempt:
----------------------------------
Jesu

Jesu is in my heart, His sacred name
Is deeply carved there.
But the other week a great affliction
Broke the little frame,
Even all to pieces.


{So} I went to seek.
And first found the corner where was the J
After, where the ES, and next where the U was graved.
When I got these pieces,
Instantly, I sat me down to spell them, and perceived
To my broken heart He was I ease you
        But to my whole (heart), Jesu.

•  George Herbert

"A Litanie" Part 1

A Litanie
Father


Father of Heaven, and him, by whom
It, and us for it, and all else, for us
Thou madest, and govern'st ever, come
And re-create me, now grown ruinous:
My heart is by dejection, clay,
And by self-murder, red.
From this red earth, O Father, purge away
All vicious tinctures, that new fashioned
I may rise from death, before I'm dead.

• John Donne

The Son (from A Litanie)

The Son



O Son of God, who seeing two things,
Sin, and death crept in, which were never made,
By bearing one, tried'st with what stings
The other could thy heritage invade;
O be thou nail'd unto my heart,
And crucified again,
Part not from it, though it from thee would part,
But let it be, by applying so thy pain,
Drown'd in thy blood, and in thy passion slain.

• John Donne, Part II, from A Litanie

Beloved of God

My beloved is mine and I am His…

from: "Canticles II. 16" (partial) 

If all those glitt’ring Monarchs that command
The servile quarters of this earthly ball,
Should tender, in exchange, their shares of land,
I would not change my fortunes for them all:
Their wealth is but a counter to my coin:
The world’s but theirs; but my Beloved’s mine.
Nay more; if the fair thespian ladies all
Should heap together their diviner treasure:
That treasure should be deem’d a price too small
To buy a minute’s lease of half my pleasure.
`Tis not the sacred wealth of all the Nine
Can buy my heart from Him, or His, from being mine.
Nor Time, nor Place, nor Chance, nor Death can bow
My least desires unto the least remove;
He’s firmly mine by oath; I, His, by vow;
He’s mine by faith; and I am His by love;
He’s mine by water; I am His by wine;
Thus I my Best-beloved’s am, thus He is mine.
He is my Altar; I, his Holy Place;
I am His guest; and he, my living food;
I’m his by penitance; He, mine by Grace;
I’m his, by purchase; He is mine, by blood;
He’s my supporting elme, and I, his vine:
Thus I am my Best-beloved’s am, thus He is mine.
He gives me wealth, I give him all my vows:
I give Him songs; He gives me length of days:
With wreaths of grace he crownes my conqu’ring brow
And I, his Temples, with a crown of praise,
Which he accepts as an ev’rlasting signe,
That I my Best-beloved’s am; that He is mine.
(Emblemes 1635)

• By Francis Quarles

It's Never Too Late

Late have I loved Thee, O Lord; and behold,
Thou wast within and I without, and there I sought Thee.
Thou was with me when I was not with Thee.
Thou didst call, and cry, and burst my deafness.
Thou didst gleam, and glow, and dispell my blindness.
Thou didst touch me, and I burned for Thy peace.
For Thyself Thou hast made us,
And restless our hearts
until in Thee they find their ease.
Late have I loved Thee,
Thou Beauty ever old and ever new.
Thou hast burst my bonds asunder;
Unto Thee will I offer up an offering of praise.

•  Prayer taken from writings of Augustine of Hippo

Monday's Holy Poetry

My beloved is mine and I am His; He feedeth among the Lillies...

Canticles II. 16 (partial);
By Francis Quarles


If all those glitt'ring Monarchs that command
The servile quarters of this earthly ball,
Should tender, in exchange, their shares of land,
I would not change my fortunes for them all:

Their wealth is but a counter to my coin:
The world's but theirs; but my Beloved's mine.
Nay more; if the fair thespian ladies all
Should heap together their diviner treasure:
That treasure should be deem'd a price too small
To buy a minute's lease of half my pleasure.

'Tis not the sacred wealth of all the Nine
Can buy my heart from Him, or His, from being mine.

Nor Time, nor Place, nor Chance, nor Death can bow
My least desires unto the least remove;
He's firmly mine by oath; I, His, by vow;
He's mine by faith; and I am His by love;

He's mine by water; I am His by wine;
Thus I my Best-beloved's am, thus He is mine.

He is my Altar; I, his Holy Place;
I am His guest; and he, my living food;
I'm his by penitance; He, mine by Grace;
I'm his, by purchase; He is mine, by blood;

He's my supporting elme, and I, his vine:
Thus I am my Best-beloved's am, thus He is mine.
He gives me wealth, I give him all my vows:
I give Him songs; He gives me length of days:

With wreaths of grace he crownes my conqu'ring brow
And I, his Temples, with a crown of praise,
Which he accepts as an ev'rlasting signe,
That I my Best-beloved's am; that He is mine.

(Emblemes 1635)