Posted in My Haiku, My Poems, Religious, Uncategorized, tagged bard on the hill, Dennis Allen Lange, Forgiveness, God, haiku, hope, peace that passes understanding, poems, poetry, rejoice always, The Sweet Life on July 1, 2019| Leave a Comment »
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Peace, hope, joy –
The grand fruit of God’s
Forgiveness
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* 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/
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© Dennis Allen Lange, 2019.
Posted in Poems of Other Poets, ReligiousInspirational, S, tagged A Fool's Prayer, bard on the hill, be merciful to me, bitter mile, doffed his cap, Edward Rowland Sill, follies, Forgiveness, guilt, jester, king, mocking court, monarch, poems, poetry, religious, royal on November 3, 2018| Leave a Comment »
The royal feast was done; the King
Sought some new sport to banish care,
And to his jester cried: ‘Sir Fool,
Kneel now, and make for us a prayer!’
The jester doffed his cap and bells,
And stood the mocking court before;
They could not see the bitter smile
Behind the painted grin he wore.
He bowed his head, and bent his knee
Upon the monarch’s silken stool;
His pleading voice arose: ‘O Lord,
Be merciful to me, a fool!
‘No pity, Lord, could change the heart
From red with wrong to white as wool;
The rod must heal the sin; but Lord,
Be merciful to me, a fool!
‘ ‘Tis not by guilt the onward sweep
Of truth and right, O Lord, we stay;
‘Tis by our follies that so long
We hold the earth from heaven away.
‘These clumsy feet, still in the mire,
Go crushing blossoms without end;
These hard, well-meaning hands we thrust
Among the heart-strings of a friend.
‘The ill-timed truth we might have kept-
Who knows how sharp it pierced and stung?
The word we had not sense to say-
Who knows how grandly it had rung?
‘Our faults no tenderness should ask,
The chastening stripes must cleanse them all;
But for our blunders-oh, in shame
Before the eyes of heaven we fall.
‘Earth bears no balsam for mistakes;
Men crown the knave, and scourge the tool
That did his will; but Thou, O Lord,
Be merciful to me, a fool!’
The room was hushed; in silence rose
The King, and sought his gardens cool,
And walked apart, and murmured low,
‘Be merciful to me, a fool!’
Posted in E-H, Poems of Other Poets, ReligiousInspirational, tagged bard on the hill, Charles H. Gabriel, cold, Forgiveness, God, hard hearted, idle words, lead someone astray, Lord, My Evening Prayer, perverse, poems, poetry, prayer, religion, religious song, secret, sin, soul, vain, vanity, willful on August 2, 2017| Leave a Comment »
If I have wounded any soul today,
If I have caused one foot to go astray,
If I have walked in my own willful way –
…….Good Lord, forgive!
If I have uttered idle words or vain,
If I have turned aside from want or pain,
Lest I myself should suffer through the strain –
…….Good Lord, forgive!
If I have craved for joys that are not mine,
If I have let my wayward heart repine,
Dwelling on things of earth, not things divine –
…….Good Lord, forgive!
If I have been perverse, or hard, or cold,
If I have longed for shelter in Thy fold,
When Thou hast given me some part to hold –
…….Good Lord, forgive!
Forgive the sins I have confessed to Thee,
Forgive the secret sins I do not see,
That which I know not, Father, teach Thou me –
…….Help me to live.
Posted in My Poems, Religious, tagged bard on the hill, burdens they can't bear, damnation, Dennis Lange, does not care, everlasting punishment, Forgiveness, God, grace, hell, poems, poetry, Repentance Rejected on July 14, 2016| Leave a Comment »
“You’ll have to take me just the way I am”;
Says he won’t change and that he does not care.
Such causes God, in spite of grace, to damn,
And gives to others burdens they can’t bear.
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© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2016.
Posted in Poems of Other Poets, W-Z, tagged bard on the hill, common sorrow grave, Forgiveness, John Greenleaf Whittier, like a mighty wave, poems, poetry, Sabbath day, swept my pride away on April 11, 2013| 1 Comment »
Forgiveness
My heart was heavy, for its trust had been
Abused, its kindness answered with foul wrong;
So, turning gloomily from my fellow-men
One summer Sabbath day I strolled among
The green mounds of the village burial-place;
Where, pondering how all human love and hate
Find one sad level; and how, soon or late,
Wronged and wrongdoer, each with meekened face,
And cold hands folded over a still heart,
Pass the green threshold of our common grave,
Wither all footsteps tend, whence none depart,
Awed for myself, and pitying my race,
Our common sorrow, like a mighty wave,
Swept all my pride away, and trembling I forgave!
The Bard on the Hill