Followers – author unknown

They followed Him by thousands when he took some fish and bread
And a banquet in the desert by His miracle was spread.
They sang aloud, “Hosanna!” and they shouted, “Praise His name!”
When in an hour of glory to Jerusalem He came.
They followed when He told them of a kingdom and a throne,
But when He went to Calvary, He went there all alone.

It seems that many people still would follow Him today
If He only went to places where everything was gay.
For the kingdom that they’re seeking isn’t one the world scorns.
And the crown of which they’re singing isn’t one that’s made of thorns.
Oh, they’ll follow for the fishes over land and over sea,
And they’ll join the church at Zion, but not at Calvary.

It’s so easy, friends, to follow when the nets are full of fish,
When the loaves are spread before you and you’re eating all you wish.
When no lands, nor lots, nor houses and no friendships are at stake,
When there’s no mob to mock you and you have no cross to take.
But you’ll need some faith to follow down through Gethsemane,
And you’ll need some love to follow up to Calvary!

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The Passionate Man’s Pilgrimage by Sir Walter Raleigh

Supposed to be written by one at the point of death.

 

Give me my scallop shell of quiet,
My staff of faith to walk upon,
My scrip of joy, immortal diet,
My bottle of salvation:
My gown of glory, hope’s true gage,
And thus I’ll make my pilgrimage.

Blood must be my body’s balmer,
No other balm will there be given
Whilst my soul like a white palmer
Travels to the land of heaven,
Over the silver mountains,
Where spring the nectar fountains;
And there I’ll kiss
The bowl of bliss,
And drink my eternal fill
On every milken hill.
My soul will be a-dry before,
But after it, will ne’er thirst more.

And by the happy blissful way
More peaceful pilgrims I shall see,
That have shook off their gowns of clay,
And go apparelled fresh like me.
I’ll bring them  first
To slake their thirst,
And then to taste those nectar suckets
At the clear wells
Where sweetness dwells,
Drawn up by saints in crystal buckets.

And when our bottles and all we
Are filled with immortality;
Then the holy paths we’ll travel
Strewed with rubies thick as gravel,
Ceilings of diamonds, sapphire floors,
High walls of coral and pearl bowers.

From thence to heaven’s bribeless hall
Where no corrupted voices brawl,
No conscience molten into gold,
Nor forg’d accusers bought and sold,
No cause deferred, nor vain-spent journey,
For there Christ is the King’s Attorney:
Who pleads for all without degrees,
And he hath angels, but no fees.

When the grand twelve million jury
Of our sins with sinful fury,
Gainst our souls black verdicts give,
Christ pleads his death, and then we live.
Be thou my speaker, taintless pleader,
Unblotted lawyer, true proceeder,
Thou movest salvation even for alms,
Nor with a bribéd lawyer’s palms.

And this is my eternal plea,
To him that made heaven, earth and sea,
Seeing my flesh must die so soon,
And want a head to dine next noon,
Just at the stroke when my veins start and spread
Set on my soul and everlasting head.
Then am I ready like a palmer fit,
To tread those blest paths which before I writ.

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Crucifying by John Donne

By miracles exceeding power of man,
He faith in some, envy in some begat,
For, what weak spirits admire, ambitions, hate,
In both affections many to him ran,
But Oh! the worst are most, they will and can,
Alas, and do, unto the immaculate,
Whose creature fate is, now prescribe a fate,
Measuring self-life’s infinity to a span
Nay to an inch. Lo, where condemned he
Bears his own cross, with pain, yet by and by
When it bears him, he must bear more and die.
Now thou art lifted up, draw me to thee,
And at thy death giving such liberal dole,
Moist, with one drop of thy blood, my dry soul.

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Redemption by George Herbert

…………………..Redemption

Having been tenant long to a rich lord,
Not thriving, I resolved to be bold,
And make a suit unto him, to afford
A new small-rented lease, and cancel th’ old. 

In heaven at his manor I him sought:
They told me there that he was lately gone
About some land which he had dearly bought
Long since on earth, to take possession. 

I straight returned, and knowing his great birth,
Sought him accordingly in great resorts –
In cities, theaters, gardens, parks, and courts:
At length I heard a ragged noise and mirth 

Of thieves and murders; there I him espied,
Who straight, “Your suit is granted,” said, and died.

 

 

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Three Miscellaneous Haiku by Dennis Lange

This One Did

 

Can houses

Back up to a hill

And sit down?

——————–

 

 

Bad Memory

 

Nasty bike:

I look at it and think

Of Nazis.

——————–

 

 

Tic-Tac-Heart

 

Game, or life –

Love always wins o’er

Being cross.

 

——————–

This One – photo by Michael and Christa Richert at

http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/nZdIyMo/old+house+on+the+hillside

Bad – photo by Michal Zacharzewski at

http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mFLefBQ/Motorcycle+with+sidecar

Tic Tac – photo by Marja Flick-Buijs at

http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/n0Xg2cy/tic+tac+toe

——————–

* The haiku I write are lines of 3-5-3 syllables instead of 5-7-5.

See Haiku article here for explanation, if needed: https://thebardonthehill.wordpress.com/2011/08/08/haiku/

——————–

© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2014.

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Three Miscellaneous Haiku by Dennis Lange

And In Many Seasons

In the spring,
Two flowers in bloom –
Daffodils.

——————–

 

The Bright, The Black

Rare picture
Both sun’s light, night’s dark.
Two beauties.

——————–

 

Who Sees?

Does the sea
See love hanging there?
Do we see?

———————

Seasons – photo by Maciej Lewandowski at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mfPRQA2/Two+vintage+cars

Bright – photo by Manu Mohan at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mgF4kDo/Butterfly

Sees – photo by Miguel Saavedra at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/1mQUBx/Cruceiro+form+Galicia+1

———————-

* The haiku I write are lines of 3-5-3 syllables instead of 5-7-5.

See Haiku article here for explanation, if needed: https://thebardonthehill.wordpress.com/2011/08/08/haiku/

——————–

© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2014.

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The Broken-Hearted by Dennis Lange

A small cross by the busy road, above a tiny mound –
It seems an extra daisy to the travelers homeward bound
Who speed their ways to destinies without a second thought,
Of just another cup of sorrow that the journey brought –
…….Just a mother’s broken heart.

—

It lies beneath the ocean like a corpse beneath the sheets –
A sunken, sullen hull that not a sailor ever greets.
Its captain was not called by either king or queen to court;
Just another ship that sailed that did not reach its port –
…….Just a dreamer’s broken heart.

—

We miss the mark of moodiness within his distant look,
And in the sigh that wishes for the time two lovers took
To hold each other tenderly within a blissful swoon.
But now he’s just a darkened sky that never holds a moon –
…….Just another broken heart.

—

The love that has been offered like a hand stretched out to shake
On a hill that’s not remembered in daily trips we take,
Was fastened by the nails of Rome amid the quaking gloom.
He’s just another casualty for which we’ve scarcely room –
…….Just the Father’s broken heart.

—

If at the end of life, or even at the close of day,
I find, reflecting, that my time was simply passed in play,
Or small pursuits, or habits harmful in their thoughtlessness,
Then I become, in selling my life’s universe for less –
…….Just another broken heart.

—

-------------------------------------------------------

© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2011.

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