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Posts Tagged ‘Christian Poetry’

Last Lines

Posted in Poem, tagged , on June 28, 2020|

By Emily Bronte (1818-1848)

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 wert 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.

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Solitary

Posted in Poem, tagged , , on June 24, 2020| 3 Comments »

Solitary
I sat
baking in the sun
strong winds force shards of sand into my flesh

sunburned
I waited to die
abandoned
unloved
unkept
tossed aside like garbage

I hurt
every cell ached with sorrow

But Jesus found me
with cool water
He washed my face

He poured cool water on my parched tongue
He gently laid a blanket over me
He held me
He promised to stay
He called me beloved
my sobs met no resistance
I curled into His chest–hidden

my eyes are red and swollen
sorrow is my close companion
waves of sadness roll over me,
threatening violence

The storm will end
Peace will prevail
But til then
as circumstances and emotions buffet me,
Jesus holds me close.

Copyright MaryBeth Mullin

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Mock on, Mock on, Voltaire, Rousseau

Posted in Poem, tagged , on June 21, 2020|

by William Blake (1757-1827)

Mock on, Mock on, Voltaire, Rousseau,
Mock on, Mock on! tis all in vain!
You throw the sand against the wind
And the wind blows it back again

And every sand becomes a Gem
Reflected in the beams divine
Blown back they blind the mocking Eye
But still in Israel’s paths they shine

The Atoms of Democritus
And Newton’s Particles of light
Are sands upon the Red Sea shore
Where Israel’s tents do shine so bright

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The Darkness Living with Us

Posted in Poem, Uncategorized, tagged , on June 10, 2020|

I saw the darkness near the start
glimpsed the
damage to the heart
but despite my pause
I wanted to receive
apologies and
other words that please

but missing
in my training
was the wisdom to heed
the warning
darkness unattended
will grow untended
and extended

hidden in unexplored corners
places kept secret
in pretends
in little lies
and tries to please
in every lack of integrity

darkness waited for its collaborator
an open door
for lack of transparency
to yield up dishonesty
and concealed iniquity

to slowly grow and seep
from the corners to the deep
recesses of the darkened mind
the one hiding behind
a disintegrating mask

pretend
became disinterest
became anger
became un-forgiveness

the avalanche of
deceit
betrayal
destruction
total darkness
threatened total black out

I didn’t truly know
but darkness has a foe
its weapons have no defense
its power lost against
the littlest ray of light

Light came for me
Light set me free
Light carried me
on to find my destiny

I’ll forever be a child of Light
and every darkness must take flight
when HaShem becomes my sole delight

Copyright M.E. Mullin

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Comfort

Posted in Poem, tagged , on May 31, 2020|

by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
(1806-1861)

Speak low to me, my Savior, low and sweet
From out the hallelujahs, sweet and low,
Lest I should fear and fall, and miss thee so,
Who art not missed by any that entreat.

Speak to me as to Mary at they feet!
And if no precious gums my hands bestow,
Let my tears drop like amber, while I go
In reach of thy divinest voice complete
In humanest affection – thus, in sooth,
To lose the sense of losing.

As a child, whose song-bird seeks the wood for evermore,
Is sung to in its stead by mother’s mouth,
Till, sinking on her breast, love-reconciled,
He sleeps the faster that he wept before.

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Rock of My Heart

Posted in Poem, tagged , on May 24, 2020| 1 Comment »

by Amy Carmichael

Rock of my heart and my Fortress Tower,
dear are Thy thoughts to me;
Like the unfolding of leaf and flower
opening silently.
And on the edge of these Thy ways,
standing in awe as heretofore,
Thee do I worship, Thee do I praise
and adore.

Rock of my heart and my Fortress Tower,
dear is Thy love to me;
Search I the world for a word of power,
find it at Calvary.
O deeps of love that rise and flow
round about me and all things mine,
Love of all loves, in Thee I know
Love Divine

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Leave me, O love, which reachest but to dust

Posted in Poem, tagged , on May 17, 2020|

Leave me, O Love, which reaches but to dust;
and thou, my mind, aspire to higher things;
grow rich in that which never taketh rust;
whatever fades, but fading pleasure brings.

Draw in thy beams, and humble all thy might
to that sweet yoke where lasting freedoms be,
which breaks the clouds, and opens forth the light,
that doth both shine and give us sight to see.

Oh, take fast hold; let that light be they guide
in this small course which birth draws out to death,
and think how evil become him to slide,
who seeketh heaven, and comes of heavenly breath.

Then farewell, world; thy uttermost I see:
Eternal Love, maintain thy life in me.

–Philip Sidney (1554-1586)

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Doing All to Stand

Posted in Poem, tagged , , on October 28, 2019|

The dark cloud of trial
looms large overhead
again

I know the signs
I want to circle my wagons
okay–my wagon

my heart says it’ll be hard
my enemy whispers, “He’s left you”
everything in me
wants to circle the drain of my past
shouting, “alone! I’m alone!”

But God–
Your patient hand steering me,
through perilous forests of loss and
seemingly endless quagmire of sorrow,
has taught me:
I am not alone
I am never alone
I was never alone
I will never be alone
this young lion remembers

But the winds of adversity still blow
there’s still more in my heart
You’d have me know
my adversary whispers in my questions
“this will be hard,
you will suffer loss”

everything in broken me wants to cut bait
jump ship
throw out the baby with the bath water
move into crisis mode
find a solution

on come my plans
contingency plans
plans for protection
plans for the future
plans to stay busy
but not Your plans

You say, “Lift your head, sweet child
I have plans for you
good plans
future plans
hope-filled plans”

I don’t need more of my plans
I need faith
to believe Your plans

I must stand
doing all to stand
just stand
just wait
just be

He’s coming
He’s watching
He sees
He knows

It’s Him willing and doing
for His good pleasure

I am His
I am accepted
I am beloved
I am adopted
I am under the blood

this young lion rests

 

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Emily Dickinson – Poem

Posted in Poem, tagged , on August 1, 2019|

I never saw a moor;

I never saw a sea;

Yet know I how the heather looks,

and what a wave must be.

I never spoke with God,

nor visited in heaven,

Yet certain am I of the spot

As if the chart were given.

                  Emily Dickinson

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Hymn

Posted in Poem, tagged , on May 31, 2019| 

 When storms arise
And dark'ning skies 
  About me threat'ning lower,
To thee, O Lord, I raise mine eyes;
To thee my tortured spirit flies
   For solace in that hour.

The mighty arm
Will let no harm
    Come near me nor befall me;

Thy voice shall quiet my alarm,
When life's great battle waxeth warm--
    No foeman shall apall me.

Upon thy breast
Secure I rest,
    From sorrow and vexation;
No more my sinful cares oppressed,
But in thy presence ever blest,
   O God of my salvation
   
Paul Laurence Dunbar
Paul Laurence Dunbar, Poet

Paul Laurence Dunbar (June 27, 1872 – February 9, 1906) was an American poet, novelist, and playwright of the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Born in Dayton, Ohio, to parents who had been enslaved in Kentucky before the American Civil War, Dunbar began to write stories and verse when still a child; he was president of his high school’s literary society. He published his first poems at the age of 16 in a Dayton newspaper. 

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