Posts Tagged ‘prayer’

Matthew, Mark, Luke and John
Bless the bed that I lie on!
Four corners to my bed,
Four angels round my head,
One at head and one at feet,
And two to guard my soul asleep.


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…..(from The Merchant of Venice)

The quality of mercy is not strain’d,
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath: it is twice blest;
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes:
‘Tis mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes
The throned monarch better than his crown;
His sceptre shows the force of temporal power,
The attribute to awe and majesty,
Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings;
But mercy is above this sceptred sway;
It is enthroned in the hearts of kings.
It is an attribute in God himself,
And earthly power doth then show likest God’s
When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew,
Though justice be thy plea, consider this,
That, in the course of justice, none of us
Should see salvation: we do pray for mercy;
And that same prayer doth teach us all to render
The deeds of mercy. I have spoke thus much
To mitigate the justice of thy plea;
Which if thou follow, this strict court of Venice
Musts needs give sentence ‘gainst the merchant there.


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I thank you, God: You heard Your servant’s prayer,
My earnest plea that You hold back Your wrath
Upon the wicked city You will tear
To pieces by the seam that makes its path

Across its rotten flesh and wicked heart,
Whose mouth declares that You approve its sin,
That You approve the unborn ripped apart,
That You approve that men would lie with men.

And when Your fury shakes their darkest day,
I’m praying now that sinful men will know
That hea’en above and trembling earth below
Agreed upon the devastating blow.

I am no longer praying for delay;
Perhaps their cup of wrath is full today.


© Dennis Allen Lange, 2019.

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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.


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A saturated meadow,
Sun-shaped and jewel-small,
A circle scarcely wider
Than the trees around were tall;
Where winds were quite excluded,
And the air was stifling sweet
With the breath of many flowers –
A temple of the heat. 

There we bowed us in the burning,
As the sun’s right worship is,
To pick where none could miss them
A thousand orchises;
For though the grass was scattered,
Yet every second spear
Seemed tipped with wings of color
That tinged the atmosphere. 

We raised a simple prayer
Before we left the spot,
That in the general mowing
That place might be forgot;
Or if not all so favored
Obtain such grace of hours
That none would mow the grass there
While so confused with flowers.


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Thou who didst hang upon a barren tree,
My God, for me;
Tho’ I till now be barren, now at length,
Lord, give me strength
To bring forth fruit to Thee. 

Thou who didst bear for me the crown of thorn,
Spitting and scorn;
Tho’ I till now have put forth thorns, yet now
Strengthen me Thou
That better fruit be borne. 

Thou Rose of Sharon, Cedar of broad roots,
Vine of sweet fruits,
Thou Lily of the vale with fadeless leaf,
Of thousands Chief,
Feed Thou my feeble shoots.


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Prayer is the little implement
Through which Men reach
Where Presence – is denied them.
They fling their Speech 

By means of it – in God’s ear –
If then He hear –
This sums the Apparatus
Comprised in Prayer –


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…………………..A Rainstorm

I smell the sweet smell that the rain is a’coming,
And soon it will sound like God’s fingers are drumming,
And tapping a message to answer my pleading:
I’m here and I hear and your prayer I am heeding.

The gray clouds grow darker, then black while advancing;
The cedars below are excited and dancing.
They sway in the rush of the wind from the storming
As though for a lover a courtship performing.

The shower draws nearer and blots out the valley.
Then, lightning, and rumble, like pins in an alley.
I hear on the leaves of the trees a soft patter
And pitter of raindrops that climbs to a clatter.

And even while standing ‘neath deck’s roof for shelter,
So many sensations leave senses a welter:
The gusting, the pouring, the lightning, the thunder –
I’m damp and I’m cold as the wind shares the wonder.

I watch as the grayness grows darker around me;
I marvel that drought or dread doubt had once bound me.
While off of my roof rolls the rain like a river,
I stand and give thanks to my God the life-giver.

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Valued When Empty

Our treasure
Is not found inside
Treasured chest.



Ruined result
Of purposeless float;
Aimless man.


The Guiding Light

Perfect peace:
Pray to begin, end
With one’s God.


Valued – photo by Michal Zacharzewski at http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mhiHNoc/Chest

Driftwood – photo by Dez Pain at http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/2dyVO3C/Driftwood

Light – photo by Photonut at http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/2dQNa0N/Silence


* 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, 2013.

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                In The Garden

Men go to their garden for pleasure;
   Go thou, to thy garden for prayer;
The Lord walks in the cool of the evening
   With those who seek sanctuary there.


Inscription on a plaque in an old garden
wall in England.


The picture is mine,  of the Tyler, Texas Rose Garden, the nation’s largest rose garden.

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