He that serves at the altar ought to live by the altar.
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I Humble Myself
Lead me to the altar of love.
Let me bend my knees
and supplicate my weakness
and all my frailties.
I humble myself before you
And pray I can be heard.
I offer love and devotion
and kindness in my word.
For I can't live without this one
that you created for me.
And so I ask at this altar
for an answer to my plea.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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The State is the altar of political freedom and, like the religious altar, it is maintained for the purpose of human sacrifice.
quote by Emma Goldman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Two Went up into the Temple to Pray
Two went to pray? O rather say
One went to brag, th' other to pray:
One stands up close and treads on high,
Where th' other dares not send his eye.
One nearer to God's altar trod,
The other to the altar's God.
poem by Richard Crashaw
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Wedding
Together,
we walk hand in hand
from this altar
to our new life
with hopes and dreams
and commitments to share.
I can't promise you heaven
but I can promise
to be with you
in good,
and in bad times.
From this day on,
I will never be alone
from this day on,
you will never be alone
from this day on,
we will be together.
Together,
let's face the world
together,
let's build our home
from this altar...
with our love.
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
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Vox Ecclesiae, Vox Christi
Not 'neath the altar only,—yet, in sooth,
There more than elsewhere,—is the cry, “How long?”
The right sown there hath still borne fruit in wrong—
The wrong waxed fourfold. Thence, (in hate of truth)
O'er weapons blessed for carnage, to fierce youth
From evil age, the word hath hissed along:—
“Ye are the Lord's: go forth, destroy, be strong:
Christ's Church absolves ye from Christ's law of ruth.”
Therefore the wine-cup at the altar is
As Christ's own blood indeed, and as the blood
Of Christ's elect, at divers seasons spilt
On the altar-stone, that to man's church, for this,
Shall prove a stone of stumbling,—whence it stood
To be rent up ere the true Church be built.
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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It is just that the priest should live by the altar.
Enigmatic
Within the woodlands dappled shade.
I came across a block of stone
I had no doubt it was man made
Though when and why cannot be known.
So perfect was the craftsmanship
which had been lavished on this stone
A place of ritual worship
It had to be an altar stone.
Though no one worships here today.
The altar stone still stands alone.
Within the woods hidden away
But sadly there is little known.
There’s no recorded history
To help me solve the mystery.
(09 August 2011)
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Monica’s Last Prayer
'Oh could thy grave at home, at Carthage, be!' —
Care not for that, and lay me where I fall.
Everywhere heard will be the judgment-call.
But at God's altar, oh! remember me.
Thus Monica, and died in Italy.
Yet fervent had her longing been, through all
Her course, for home at last, and burial
With her own husband, by the Libyan sea.
Had been; but at the end, to her pure soul
All tie with all beside seem'd vain and cheap, 10
And union before God the only care.
Creeds pass, rites change, no altar standeth whole;
Yet we her memory, as she pray'd, will keep,
Keep by this: Life in God, and union there!
poem by Matthew Arnold from Sonnets (1867)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Altar
A broken ALTAR, Lord, thy servant rears,
Made of a heart and cemented with tears;
Whose parts are as thy hand did frame;
No workman's tool hath touch'd the same.
A HEART alone
Is such a stone,
As nothing but
Thy pow'r doth cut.
Wherefore each part
Of my hard heart
Meets in this frame
To praise thy name.
That if I chance to hold my peace,
These stones to praise thee may not cease.
Oh, let thy blessed SACRIFICE be mine,
And sanctify this ALTAR to be thine.
poem by George Herbert
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The Nuns And The Lilies
The lilies in the garden walk
Are out today.
The nuns all came to look at them,
To look and say
They wouldn't last to deck the crib
On Christmas day.
They had outstripped the Holy Child.
And yet at least
They should have been for Ursula,
Lucy, Joan, Perpetua,
Have glittered on the altar through some virgin feast.
The lilies in the convent walk
Are fair to see.
They have forgotten baby Christs,
It seems to me.
They laugh and toss their royal heads
In ecstasy.
And still they say I must believe
Like princely churls
For all your lovely purity,
Catherine, Mary, Dorothy,
We will not die as altar flowers for dreaming girls.
poem by Lesbia Harford
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Waiting at the Altar
What am i doing here i could have called it off!
Standing at the alter shedding a tear
Getting married for no other reason than the fear
Of hurting those who supported us and made our day
one of happiness so sincere.
I should have, could have walked away!
The bride arrived and i braced myself.
Hoping and praying. she would falter before reaching the altar
As the wedding march played i stood somewhat dismayed.
Oh god shes going to go through with it
I pleaded within myself, please turn, please walk away from this charade
This farce we have created, this debacle of wasted joy, this sham of a wedding and the two young kids stood shaking at the altar.
James comerford
poem by James Comerford
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The Least Possible
DEAR goddess of the shining shrine
Where all my votive tapers burn,
Where every gold-embroidered thought
And all my flowers of life are brought
--With many, alas! that are not mine--
What will you give me in return?
The bow in Bond Street--in the Park
The smile all worship on your lips,
The courteous word at dinner--dance--
But never a blush--a conscious glance;
At most, at Henley, in the dark,
Your fleet mistaken finger-tips?
Ah, just for once, once only, be
An altar-server--stoop and set me
Upon the altar richly wrought
Of your most secret flower-sweet thought:
One nightlight's flicker burn for me
Before you sleep and quite forget me.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Standing At The Altar
Performed by margie cox
Composed by prince
Why?
I got the news just yesterday
They said u up and ran away
All because of what somebody said
I spent my wedding night alone in bed
Cuz u left me standing at the altar
U left big tears in my eyes (tears in my eyes)
U didnt even stop 2 ask me who, what or where or why
Ever since the day that we first met
Everybody been jealous as they could get (they could get)
People sayin this and sayin that (sayin that)
Struck us, struck us out before we even got 2 bat
Hey, u left me standing at the altar
U left big tears in my eyes (tears in my eyes)
U didnt even stop 2 ask me who, what or where or why
How could u do this, how could u leave?
When u knew how much u meant 2 me (u meant 2 me)
I gave 2 u more than Ive given any friend
Just 2 have u give it all back in the end
U left my poor heart broken
U left my world in a daze (in a daze)
If I could, Id write a letter 2 u
But I dont know what 2 say, I dont know what 2 say
I got the news just yesterday
They said u up and ran away
If theres a God way up above
One day ull have 2 answer 2 him 4 my love
U left me standing at the altar
U left big tears in my eyes
U didnt even stop 2 ask me who, what or where or why
U left my poor heart broken
U left my world in a daze (in a daze)
If I could, Id write a letter 2 u
But I dont know what 2 say, I dont know what 2 say
(u left me standing at the altar)
U better stop doggin me baby, yeah
I cant take it no more
I cant take it no more, baby
(u left my poor heart broken)
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Temple of Artemus
Callimachus wrote:
'Let none disparage Artemis. For Oeneus
dishonoured her altar and no pleasant struggles came upon his city. Nor let any content with her in shooting of stags or in archery. For the son of Atreus vaunted him not that he suffered small requital. Neither let any woo the Maiden; for not Otus, nor Orion wooed her to their own good. Nor let any shun the yearly dance; for not tearless to Hippo
was her refusal to dance around the altar. Hail, great queen, and graciously greet my song.'
So the Great Temple was for the Amazons, who mated with their neighbors
Every 26 years.
The Temple outlasted that,
But not by much:
It was both wooed and raped
By the Earth Herself,
The first Amazon of all.
poem by Stan Petrovich
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The Grooms Still Waiting At The Altar
Prayed in the ghetto with my face in the cement,
Heard the last moan of a boxer, seen the massacre of the innocent
Felt around for the light switch, became nauseated.
She was walking down the hallway while the walls deteriorated.
East of the jordan, hard as the rock of gibraltar,
I see the burning of the page, curtain risin on a new age,
See the groom still waitin at the altar.
Try to be pure at heart, they arrest you for robbery,
Mistake your shyness for aloofness, your shyness for snobbery,
Got the message this morning, the one that was sent to me
About the madness of becomin what one was never meant to be.
West of the jordan, east of the rock of gibraltar,
I see the burning of the stage,
Curtain risin on a new age,
See the groom still waitin at the altar.
Dont know what I can say about claudette that wouldnt come back to haunt me,
Finally had to give her up bout the time she began to want me.
But I know God has mercy on them who are slandered and humiliated.
Id a-done anything for that woman if she didnt make me feel so obligated.
West of the jordan, west of the rock of gibraltar,
I see the burning of the cage,
Curtain risin on a new stage,
See the groom still waitin at the altar.
Put your hand on my head, baby, do I have a temperature?
I see people who are supposed to know better standin around like furniture.
Theres a wall between you and what you want and you got to leap it,
Tonight you got the power to take it, tomorrow you wont have the power to
Keep it.
West of the jordan, east of the rock of gibraltar,
I see the burning of the stage, curtain risin on a new age,
See the groom still waitin at the altar.
Cities on fire, phones out of order,
Theyre killing nuns and soldiers, theres fighting on the border.
What can I say about claudette?
Aint seen her since january,
She could be respectably married or running a whorehouse in buenos aires.
West of the jordan, west of the rock of gibraltar,
I see the burning of the stage,
Curtain risin on a new age,
See the groom still waitin at the altar.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lord’s Feet Vavroovahana Patra
Lord Jagannath’s temple is beautiful;
Lovely devotees are delightful.
Lady devotees chant hymns delightfully;
Love reigns on the shrine, devotees dance gaily.
Light on the shrine illuminate the altar;
Lord Jagannath contents devotee’s desire.
Life is surrendered on the feet of Almighty;
Little guys and girls roam with gaiety.
Luminous face of God attracts the devotee;
Lovely devotees surrender on Lotus feet with delight.
Lily smiles on the altar;
Lake of love tranquilises devotees, contents desire.
Lad prays God for prosperity;
Lady prays for a pure conjugal life gaudily.
Land of love entices all devotees;
Lives enchant with delight.
Leaves, blossoms, flowers endow the altar;
Lord fulfils all devotees’ desire.
Lap of God is cosy forever;
Lazy man becomes dutiful singing songs of Creature.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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The Appeal
ALL summer-time you said:
'Love has no need of shelter nor of kindness,
For all the flowers take pity on his blindness,
And lead him to his scented rose-soft bed.'
'He is a king,' you said.
'That I bow not the knee will never grieve him,
For all the summer-palaces receive him.'
But now Love has not where to lay his head.
'He is a god,' you said.
'His altars are wherever roses blossom.'
And summer made his altar of her bosom,
But now the altar is ungarlanded.
Take back the words you said:
Out in the rain he shivers broken-hearted;
Summer who bore him has with tears departed,
And o'er her grave he weeps uncomforted.
And you, for all you said,
Would weep too, if when dawn stills the wind's riot,
You found him on your threshold, pale and quiet,
Clasped him at last, and found the child was dead.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Niagara
Thou art a giant altar, where the Earth
Must needs send up her thanks to Him above
Who did create her. Nature cometh here
To lay its offerings upon thy shrine.
The morning and the evening shower down
Bright jewels, -- changeful opals, em'ralds fair.
The burning noon sends floods of molten gold,
The calm night crowns thee with its host of stars,
The moon enfolds thee with her silver veil,
And o'er thee e'er is arched the rainbow's span, --
The gorgeous marriage-ring of Earth and Heaven.
While ever from the holy altar grand
Ascends the incense of the mist and spray,
That mounts to God with thy wild roar of praise
poem by Emma Lazarus
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Good Enough
When footsteps from that Sunday march faded out into the dark
The melody blows in to ease the pain
Two thousand years and we're still here fighting over the same old fear
The muddy steps of hate can't stand this rain
I'll stand up on this stage as if it was my altar
I'll face down all the rage and no, I will not falter
Say I'm good enough to play but not good enough to stay
In your heart
The mat on the floor says welcome, the sign on the door says no
Says 'No coloreds allowed unless you're playing in the show'
Well I've never seen a color except the ones up in the sky
When I see this kind of hatred I die a little inside
I'll stand up on this stage as if it was altar
I'll face down all this rage and no, I will not falter
Say I'm good enough to play but not good enough to stay
And when you finish your song boy you've got to be on your way
But if I'm good enough to play then I'm good enough to stay
In your heart
This one's for the Godfather, Duke, Ella, and the Count
And for all those who fought their way here no matter the amount
For all of God's children walking through dumpsters in the back
Had to finish their show and leave just because their skin was black
They stood up on the stage as if it was their altar
They faced down all the rage and no, they did not falter
They were good enough to play but not good enough to stay
And when they finished their songs boy they had to be on their way
They were good enough to play and somehow they've always stayed
In our hearts
And if I'm good enough to play then we've got to find the space
In our hearts
song performed by by Edwin McCain
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In The Cathedral
THE altar-lights burn low, the incense-fume
Sickens: O listen, how the priestly prayer
Runs as a fenland stream; a dim despair
Hails through their chaunt of praise, who here inhume
A clay-cold Faith within its carven tomb.
But come thou forth into the vital air
Keen, dark, and pure! grave Night is no betrayer,
And if perchance some faint cold star illume
Her brow of mystery, shall we walk forlorn?
An altar of the natural rock may rise
Somewhere for men who seek; there may be borne
On the night-wind authentic prophecies:
If not, let this--to breathe sane breath--suffice,
Till in yon East, mayhap, the dark be worn.
poem by Edward Dowden
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