Sonnet 63 – Back To Nature by Dennis Allen Lange

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In centers of cities, there’s often a park;
And there grow the flowers, and there flies the lark.
Oasis it is in the midst of the bare,
The succor of people o’erladen with care.

And often they flee from the concrete and steel
To mountains or valleys, with skis or a reel,
Pursuing relief from the meaningless grind,
In search of a something that gives peace of mind.

The cells they call home, made by man and machine,
They garland with flowers and garnish with green.
Internally driven, unknowing, they quest
For road to return to their root and its rest.

To nature, away from the things made by man,
Is going to God anyway that we can.

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Photo by Hanspeter Klasser at
https://www.rgbstock.com/photo/ol0Xfew/Park+scene

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© Dennis Allen Lange, 2020.

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Hymn Of Trust by Oliver Wendell Holmes

O Love Divine, that stooped to share
…Our sharpest pang, our bitterest tear,
On Thee we cast each earth-born care,
…We smile at pain while Thou art near!

Though long the weary way we tread,
…And sorrow crown each lingering year,
No path we shun, no darkness dread,
…Our hearts still whispering, Thou art near! 

When drooping pleasure turns to grief,
…And trembling faith is changed to fear,
The murmuring wind, the quivering leaf,
…Shall softly tell us, Thou art near! 

On Thee we fling our burdening woe,
…O Love Divine, forever dear,
Content to suffer while we know,
…Living and dying, Thou art near!

 

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He Cometh Late – anonymous

The strings of camels come in single file,
…Bearing their burdens o’er the desert sands.
Swiftly the boats go plying on the Nile –
…The needs of men are met on every hand,
But still I wait
For the messenger of God who cometh late.

I see a cloud of dust rise on the plain.
…The measured tread of troops falls on my ear.
The soldier comes, the empire to maintain,
…Bringing the pomp of war, the reign of fear,
But still I wait
For the messenger of God who cometh late.

They set me watching o’er the desert drear,
…Where dwells the darkness, as the deepest night;
From many a mosque there comes the call to prayer –
…I hear no voice that calls on God for light.
But still I wait
For the messenger of God who cometh late.

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