Posted in O-R, Poems of Other Poets, ReligiousInspirational, tagged bard on the hill, echoes, faith, gloom and solitude, heavenly port, hope, James Whitcomb Riley, life after death, Other Side, placid waves and heaven meet, poems, poetry, religious, sea was breaking at my fee, wastes of sands, wrecks on June 2, 2020| 1 Comment »
The sea was breaking at my feet,
And looking out across the tide,
Where placid waves and heaven meet,
I thought me of the Other Side.
For on the beach on which I stood
Were wastes of sands, and wash, and roar,
Low clouds, and gloom, and solitude,
And wrecks, and ruins – nothing more.
“O, tell me if beyond the sea
A heavenly port there is!” I cried,
And back the echoes laughingly
“There is! there is!” replied.
Posted in C-D, Poems of Other Poets, ReligiousInspirational, tagged bard on the hill, celestial women, Emily Dickinson, fagot, faith, faithful witness, kingdomhymn, martyrs, passed out of record into renown, poems, poetry, Read Sweet on January 5, 2019| Leave a Comment »
Read – Sweet – how others – strove –
Till we – are stouter –
What they -renounced –
Till we – are less afraid –
How many times they – bore the faithful witness –
Till we – are helped –
As if a Kingdom – cared!
Read then – of faith –
That shone above the fagot –
Clear strains of Hymn
The River could not drown –
Brave names of Men –
And Celestial Women –
Passed out – of Record
Into – Renown!
Posted in A-B (by poet name), Poems of Other Poets, ReligiousInspirational, tagged anonymous, bard on the hill, Calvary" >, cross, crown of thorns, faith, fed the thousands fish and bread, Followers, Hosanna, Jerusalem, Jesus, kingdom, loaves, love, nets are full of fish, poems, poetry, praise, Zion on October 24, 2017| 1 Comment »
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!
Posted in Poems of Other Poets, ReligiousInspirational, tagged Almighty, bard on the hill, creeds, death, Deity, Emily Bronte, eternal, ever-present, existence, faith, God, immortality, infinity, Last Lines, no coward soul of mine, poems, poetry, Spirit, universe, vain, vanity on June 25, 2017| 1 Comment »
No coward soul is mine,
No trembler in the world’s storm-troubled sphere:
I see Heaven’s glories shine,
And faith shines equal, arming me from fear.
O God, within my breast,
Almighty, ever-present Deity!
Life – that in me has rest,
As I -undying Life – have power in Thee!
Vain are the thousand creeds
That move men’s hearts: unutterably vain;
Worthless as withered weeds,
Or idlest froth amid the boundless main,
To waken doubt in one
Holding so fast by thine infinity;
So surely anchored on
The steadfast rock of immortality,
With wide-embracing love
Thy Spirit animates eternal years,
Pervades and broods above,
Changes, sustains, dissolves, creates, and rears.
Though earth and man were gone,
And suns and universes ceased to be,
And Thou were left alone,
Every existence would exist in Thee.
There is not room for Death,
Nor atom that his might could render void:
Thou – Thou art Being and Breath,
And what Thou art may never be destroyed.
Posted in E-H, Poems of Other Poets, ReligiousInspirational, tagged anchored safe, bard on the hill, breakers talked with Death, captain, crowded in the cabin, faith, icy hand, Isn't God upon the ocean just the same as on the land, James T. Fields, poems, poetry, rattling trumpet, religious, The Tempest on June 23, 2017| Leave a Comment »
We were crowded in the cabin,
…Not a soul would dare to sleep, –
It was midnight on the waters
…And a storm was on the deep.
‘Tis a fearful thing in winter
…To be shattered by the blast,
And to hear the rattling trumpet
…Thunder, “Cut away the mast!”
So we shuddered there in silence, –
…For the stoutest held his breath,
While the hungry sea was roaring,
…And the breakers talked with Death.
As thus we sat in darkness,
…Each one busy in his prayers,
“We are lost!” the captain shouted
…As he staggered down the stairs.
But his little daughter whispered,
…As she took his icy hand,
“Isn’t God upon the ocean
…Just the same as on the land?”
Then we kissed the little maiden,
…And we spoke in better cheer,
And we anchored safe in harbor
…When the morn was shining clear.
Posted in E-H, Poems of Other Poets, ReligiousInspirational, tagged bard on the hill, faith, if I lay waste and wither up with doubt, poems, poetry, religion, religious, what do I gain by what I have undone, William Dean Howells on March 14, 2015| Leave a Comment »
……………………..Faith
If I lay waste and wither up with doubt
The blessed fields of heaven where once my Faith
Possessed itself serenely safe from death;
If I deny things past finding out;
Or if I orphan my own soul from One
That seemed a Father, and make void the place
Within me where He dwelt in Power and Grace,
What do I gain by what I have undone?
Posted in My Poems, Religious, tagged bard on the hill, Buy The Truth And Sell It Not, Dennis Lange, fairer, faith, God, godless, line in sand, line lies twixt truth and error, poems, poetry, Proverbs 23:23, rarer, sabers rattle, shall set you free, Snow White, stands alone, terror, uniquely, value, witch on November 19, 2014| 1 Comment »
Buy The Truth And Sell It Not
I’ve often asked, “Is there a line
…That lies twixt truth and error?”
My answer – is it only mine? –
…It’s strife, and often, terror.
It cannot be a line that’s mixed
…With truth and error halving;
Right’s right, and wrong is wrong – both fixed.
…There is no sheep that’s calving.
The line is like a battle drawn –
…There is no co-existence.
Colliding, cold and hot air spawn
…A front at both’s insistence.
There is no mix with water, oil.
…They’re kept from e’er eliding
As if the hand of practiced mohel
…Was there, with knife, dividing.
As truth, two faiths can never stand –
…Between them: fire and battle.
With God or godless – line in sand,
…And down it sabers rattle.
In truth, it’s truth when once defined
…Which makes all else an error.
Truth’s one, but error’s not confined –
…Truth always is the rarer.
That truth means truth is valued more
…It stands alone, uniquely.
And error (Witch) is jealous, sore,
…Of truth (Snow White) completely.
And error, erring, true to kind,
…Is cause of strife and terror.
It seeks to take the place assigned
…To truth – the valued, fairer.
So buy the truth, and sell it not;
…No error is its double.
One sends the sailor through the slot,
…The other is his trouble.
——————————————-
Proverbs 23:23 Buy truth, and do not sell it;
Get wisdom and instruction and understanding.
——————————————-
© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2014.
Posted in Poems of Other Poets, W-Z, tagged discontent, disease, doubt, faith, God, happiness, health, hope, malady, optimism, poem, poetry, thoughts on May 24, 2011| 1 Comment »
Talk happiness. The world is sad enough
Without your woes. No path is wholly rough;
Look for the places that are smooth and clear,
And speak of those, to rest the weary ear
Of Earth, so hurt by one continuous strain
Of human discontent and grief and pain.
Talk faith. The world is better off without
Your uttered ignorance and morbid doubt.
If you have faith in God, or man, or self,
Say so. If not, push back upon the shelf
Of silence all your thoughts, till faith shall come;
No one will grieve because your lips are dumb.
Talk health. The dreary, never-changing tale
Of mortal maladies is worn and stale.
You cannot charm, or interest, or please
By harping on that minor chord, disease.
Say you are well, or all is well with you,
And God shall hear your words and make them true.
The Bard on the Hill