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Posts Tagged ‘religion’

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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Great God, I ask thee for no meaner pelf
Than that I may not disappoint myself;
That in my action I may soar as high
As I can now discern with this clear eye.
And next in value, which Thy kindness lends,
That I may greatly disappoint my friends,
Howe’er they think or hope that it may be,
They may not dream how Thou’st distinguished me.

That my weak hand may equal my firm faith,
And my life practise more than my tongue saith;
That my low conduct may not show,
……Nor my relenting lines,
That I Thy purpose did not know,
……Or overrated Thy designs.

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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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For heresy, there are a thousand ways to die
As truth unveils what men love most – the devil’s lie.
But truth stands firm ‘gainst all the salvos foes may give,
And like our God who is its source, will always live.

——————————————

© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2016.

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‘Tis a new life – thoughts move not as they did
With slow uncertain steps across my mind,
In thronging haste fast pressing on they bid
The portals open to the viewless wind;
That comes not, save when in the dust is laid
The crown of pride that gilds each mortal brow,
And from before man’s vision melting fade
The heavens and earth – Their walls are falling now –
Fast crowding on each thought claims utterance strong,
Storm-lifted waves swift rushing to the shore
On from the sea they send their shouts along,
Back through the cave-worn rocks their thunders roar,
And I a child of God by Christ made free
Start from death’s slumbers to eternity.

 

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God is a distant – Stately Lover –
Woos, as He states us – by His Son –
Verily, a Vicarious Courtship –
“Miles”, and “Priscilla”, were such an One – 

But, lest the Soul – like fair “Priscilla”
Choose the Envoy – and spurn the Groom –
Vouches, with hyperbolic archness –
“Miles”, and “John Alden” were Synonym –

 

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Infinity, when all things it beheld,
In nothing, and of nothing all did build,
Upon what base was fixed the lath, wherein
He turned this globe, and riggalled it so trim?
Who blew the bellows of his furnace vast?
Or held the mold wherein the world was cast?
Who laid its cornerstone? Or whose command?
Where stand the pillars upon which it stands?
Who laced and filleted the earth so fine,
With rivers like green ribbons smaragdine?
Who made the seas its selvage, and it locks
Like a quilt ball within a silver box?
Who spread its canopy? Or curtains spun?
Who in this bowling alley bowled the sun?
Who made it always when it rises set:
To go at once both down, and up to get?
Who the curtain rods made for this tapestry?
Who hung the twinkling lanthorns in the sky?
Who? who did this? or who is he? Why, know
It’s only Might Almighty this did do.
His hand hath made this noble work which stands
His glorious handiwork not made by hands.
Who spake all things from nothing; and with ease
Can speak all things to nothing, if he please.
Whose little finger at his pleasure can
Out mete ten thousand worlds with half a span:
Whose might almighty can by half a looks
Root up the rocks and rock the hills by the roots.
Can take this mighty world up in his hand,
And shake it like a squitchen or a wand.
Whose single frown will make the heavens shake.
Like as an aspen leaf the wind makes quake?
Oh! what a might is this! Whose single frown
Doth shake the world as it would shake it down?
Which all from nothing fet, from nothing, all:
Hath all on nothing set, lets nothing fall.
Gave all to nothing man indeed, whereby
Through nothing man all might him glorify,
In nothing is embossed the brightest gem
More precious than all preciousness in them.
But nothing man did throw down all by sin:
And darkened that lightsome gem in him,
That now his brightest diamond is grown
Darker by far than any coalpit stone.

 

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Have, have ye no regard, all ye
Who pass this way, to pity me,
Who am a man of misery! 

A man both bruised, and broke, and one
Who suffers not here for mine own,
But for my friends transgression! 

Ah! Sion’s Daughters, do not fear
The Cross, the Cords, the Nails, the Spear,
The Myrrh, the Gall, the Vinegar: 

For Christ, your loving Savior, hath
Drunk up the wine of God’s fierce wrath;
Only, there’s left a little froth, 

Less for to taste, than for to show,
What bitter cups had been your due,
Had He not drank them up for you.

 

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Philosophers have measured mountains,
Fathomed the depths of seas, of states, and kings,
Walked with a staff to heav’n, and traced fountains;
But there are two vast, spacious things,
The which to measure it doth more behove:
Yet few there are that sound them; Sin and Love. 

Who would know Sin, let him repair
Unto Mount Olivet; there shall he see
A man so wrung with pains, that all his hair,
His skin, his garments bloody be.
Sin is that press and vice, which forceth pain
To hunt his cruel food through ev’ry vein. 

Who knows not Love, kept him assay
And taste that juice, which on the cross a pike
Did set again abroach; then let him say
If ever he did taste the like.
Love is that liquor sweet and most divine,
Which my God feels as blood; but I, as wine.

 

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In calm and cool and silence, once again
I find my old accustomed place among
My brethren, where, perchance, no human tongue
Shall utter words; where never hymn is sung,
Nor deep-toned organ blown, nor censer swung,
Nor dim light falling through the pictured pane!
There, syllabled by silence, let me hear
The still small voice which reached the prophet’s ear;
Read in my heart a still diviner law
Than Israel’s leader on his tables saw!
There, let me strive with each besetting sin,
Recall my wandering fancies, and restrain
The sore disquiet of a restless brain;
And, as the path of duty is made plain,
May grace be given that I may walk therein,
Not like the hireling, for his selfish gain,
With backward glances and reluctant tread,
Making a merit of his coward dread,
But, cheerful, in the light around me thrown,
Walking as one to pleasant service led;
Doing God’s will as if it were my own,
Yet trusting not in mine, but in his strength alone!

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