Related quotes
Life of a Roman Catholic Priest
A priest is nearest Christ;
A priest is Christ at times;
A priest is almost Christ;
A priest is most divine.
A priest is God’s shepherd;
A priest must tend to flock;
A priest must be like ‘rock’;
A priest should ne’er defrock.
A priest communes with God;
A priest draws hope from Lord;
A priest shows love of Christ;
A priest carries His Cross!
A priest is tempted too;
A priest has falls in life;
A priest falters also;
A priest has strength from Christ.
A priestly job is tough;
A priest’s life can turn rough;
A priest has strife enough,
But has to smile and laugh!
A priest helps harvest souls;
A priest has many roles;
A priest has but one goal –
To drink from Christ’s own bowl!
Pray that more priests should come;
May priests curb their freedom;
May priest usher Kingdom;
A life for Christ’s welcome.
Fondly dedicated to Rev. Fr. Xavier Claudius,
Beloved Parish priest, ‘Holy Family Church, Perundurai
Copyright by Dr John Celes 25-7-2010
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
It is just that the priest should live by the altar.
Their kitchen is their shrine, the cook their priest, the table their altar, and their belly their god.
quote by Charles Buck
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Epigram - On Players And Ballad-Singers
They're like the Priest and Clerk at Belial's altar;
One makes the Sermon; t'other tunes the Psalter.
poem by Francis Quarles
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Who is my God?
At a new moon in the jungle
Was brought to an altar
A roaring goat, fully black,
By an awesome peasant
To the fearsome Kali,
Made of granite, red in cloak,
Under arbour of a peepul,
Who before stood
At dawn of death, the poor goat
Like a bull in a fight,
Arresting the attention
Of everyone, unknown of his fate.
The beast was put to rites,
Smeared with sandal paste
And fully drenched in water
Till he shivered a jerk,
Which was taken as token of nod
By grace of Goddess for her feast.
The peasant was pleased;
The priest was pleased;
So were all, as though they’re blest.
One held his hind-legs,
Stretching them well behind,
The other bending up his front one,
The third locking his head
Hard onto the altar
For the priest to accomplish.
The act was done at a stroke
By the learned priest, merciless,
For the Goddess, all merciful.
Many-wards squirted the blood
Like a carpet, red,
Before the Goddess, her tongue dripping.
All felt that they had met
The thirst of Ma, full
As did a mother her child, ere asking.
The agony that was undergone,
Murder they committed,
And pathos that prevailed, who noticed?
The beheaded beast went straight,
To the feet of the Goddess,
“Ma, am I not your child?
If not, who is my Mother? ”
Her lids dripped,
She cursed for having been chiseled
25.07.97
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Human Temple
The Temple in Darkness
Darkness broods upon the temple,
Glooms along the lonely aisles,
Fills up all the orient window,
Whence, like little children’s wiles,
Shadows—purple, azure, golden—
Broke upon the floor in smiles.
From the great heart of the organ
Bursts no voice of chant or psalm;
All the air, by music-pulses
Stirred no more, is deathly calm;
And no precious incense rising,
Falls, like good men’s prayer, in balm.
Not a sound of living footstep
Echoes on the marble floor;
Not a sigh of stranger passing
Pierces through the closèd door;
Quenched the light upon the altar:
Where the priest stood, none stands more.
Lord, why hast Thou left Thy temple
Scorned of man, disowned by Thee!
Rather let Thy right hand crush it,
None its desolation see!
List—‘He who the temple builded
Doth His will there. Let it be!’
A Light in the Temple
Lo, a light within the temple!
Whence it cometh no man knows;
Barred the doors: the night-black windows
Stand apart in solemn rows,
All without seems gloom eternal,
Yet the glimmer comes and goes—
As if silent-footed angels
Through the dim aisles wandered fair,
Only traced amid the darkness,
By the glory in their hair,
Till at the forsaken altar
They all met, and praised God there.
Now the light grows—fuller, clearer;
Hark, the organ ’gins to sound.
Faint, like broken spirit crying
Unto Heaven from the ground;
While the chorus of the angels
Mingles everywhere around.
See, the altar shines all radiant,
Though no mortal priest there stands,
And no earthly congregation
Worships with uplifted hands:
Yet they gather, slow and saintly,
In innumerable bands.
And the chant celestial rises
Where the human prayers have ceased:
No tear-sacrifice is offered,
For all anguish is appeased,
Through its night of desolation,
To His temple comes the Priest.
poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Realization
A pleasing fragrance from an altar
the mountain top temple.
The old priest incense is burned in worship.
His chant of Sutra floating in the wind
like an old mother's lullaby.
The saffron robe waves over the thatched house
and the bell tolls with the moon set.
I thought the time has come
and I take his place when he leaves.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
In The Fulness Of Time Story Poem
The high priest cleansed the altar stone.
Prepared it for the sacrifice,
this task was his and his alone.
No lesser person would suffice.
The voice of God spoke through his priest
and no man dared to disobey
from the greatest to the least.
The high priest held the power to slay.
The sacrifice a comely youth
was not coerced he volunteered.
He had no doubt it was the truth
that for his life all debts be cleared.
Then suddenly a blinding light.
White fire consumed the altar stone,
the high priest fled in mortal fright.
The voice of “God” was but his own.
The Goddess made her wishes known.
A demonstration of her power,
she had destroyed the altar stone.
No longer need her people cower
beneath the high priests cruel rule
The could return to the old ways,
he high priest was power mad fool.
Who had perverted ways to praise
The Goddess for all that she supplied.
To keep her children clothed and fed
Her laws to everyone applied
from their birth ‘til they were dead.
There would be no more sacrifice
of pretty maid or comely youth.
Their honest worship would suffice
The Goddess re -proclaimed the truth.
That men should live in amity
obey her laws and they would thrive.
That they had strayed so foolishly.
The Goddess could and would forgive.
Beware of self appointed priests.
They do not, cannot speak for me.
But treat them as you would wild beasts
which threaten your security.
My yoke is not too hard to bear.
Just listen to your inner voice
and heed the quiet words you hear.
Be glad my children and rejoice.
I watch and ward and will protect
my children who obey my rules
The disobedient can expect
the punishment reserved for fools.
For they will surely come to grief.
No false priest can usurp my place
and propagate his false belief.
I am the guardian of your race.
Though fierce invaders seize control.
Forbidding you to worship me.
They will never achieve their goal
believers worship secretly.
In sacred groves and forest glades
as I have always bid them to.
The loyal youths and faithful maids
to my commands will remain true.
Religions come, religions go
as new religions take their place.
But as my true believers know.
Only the goddess rules by grace.
The old religion ever new
although sometimes its underground
or camouflaged but in full view.
In all religions I am found.
Still worshipped under different names.
Regarded as a saint sometimes.
Like children’s silly party games
I will endure through trying times.
My faithful daughters know its me
but let the priests think otherwise.
Their stiff necked pride won’t let them see.
What’s happening before their eyes.
In time I’ll take my rightful place
be worshipped universally.
Return men to a state of grace
where everyone lives peacefully..
15-Apr-08
Http: //blog.myspace.com. /poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Haunting The Chapel
The holy cross
Symbol of life
Anticipate the lives of Christians born
Speak of death
The words of hate
Anticipate the rules among the dead
Hell has seen
Priests condemned
To bring forth the lord of the cross
Strike twelve
Raise the dead
The chapel comes under attack
The ghosts of dead
Torment the priest
Their altar will soon be destroyed
Heaven's mass
Turning black
The church will belong to the dead
Blackened magic
And thus we're lost
Lucifer will supreme
The crystal ball
Children of faith
Their lasting eternal scream
Those who never make the people scream
Have no task for all of time
Satan's form of soldiers stand in lust
Destruction charged upon the cross
Attacking there's seven ways to go
Tormenting the priest
song performed by by Slayer from Haunting The Chapel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Dashing and Halting
Dashing past the altar, a priest halts
To cast his spell of rage, the demonic particles
That in those atoms dwell, and in those fancies
Are sown me and you, they hit us hard!
Charming of you now that you’re gone,
What defilement has happened to deviltry!
My dashing personality messes with messages
That charm me and you, the straightforward ones.
My chunky tales need understanding, in that
They need me as a requirement.
Defeat me now that you’re done!
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Vote! | Copy!
He who thinks little, errs much.
quote by Leonardo da Vinci
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!
He that serves at the altar ought to live by the altar.