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All-Saints' Day (1868)

Never to weary more, nor suffer sorrow,—
Their strife all over, and their work all done:
At peace—and only waiting for the morrow;
Heaven's rest and rapture even now begun.

So tired once! long fetter'd, sorely burden'd,
Ye struggled hard and well for your release;
Ye fought in faith and love—and ye are guerdon'd,
O happy souls! for now ye are at peace.

No more of pain, no more of bitter weeping!
For us a darkness and an empty place,
Somewhere a little dust—in angels' keeping—
A blessèd memory of a vanish'd face.

For us the lonely path, the daily toiling,
The din and strife of battle, never still'd;
For us the wounds, the hunger, and the soiling,—
The utter, speechless longing, unfulfill'd.

For us the army camp'd upon the mountains,
Unseen, yet fighting with our Syrian foes,—
The heaven-sent manna and the wayside fountains,
The hope and promise, sweetening our woes.

For them the joyous spirit, freely ranging
Green hills and fields where never mortal trod;
For them the light unfading and unchanging,
The perfect quietness—the peace of God.

For both, a dim, mysterious, distant greeting;
For both, at Jesus' cross, a drawing near;
At Eucharistic gate a blessed meeting,
When angels and archangels worship here.

For both, God grant, an everlasting union,
When sin shall pass away and tears shall cease;
For both the deep and full and true communion,
For both the happy life that is “at peace.”

poem by Ada Cambridge
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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All-Saints' Day (1867)

Blessed are they whose baby-souls are bright,
Whose brows are sealèd with the cross of light,
Whom God Himself has deign'd to robe in white—
Blessed are they!

Blessed are they who follow through the wild
His sacred footprints, as a little child;
Who strive to keep their garments undefiled—
Blessed are they!

Blessed are they who commune with the Christ,
Midst holy angels, at the Eucharist—
Who aye seek sunlight through the rain and mist—
Blessed are they!

Blessed are they—the strong in faith and grace—
Who humbly fill their own appointed place;
They who with steadfast patience run the race—
Blessed are they!

Blessed are they who suffer and endure—
They who through thorns and briars walk safe and sure;
Gold in the fire made beautiful and pure!—
Blessed are they!

Blessed are they on whom the angels wait,
To keep them facing the celestial gate,
To help them keep their vows inviolate—
Blessed are they!

Blessed are they to whom, at dead of night,—
In work, in prayer—though veiled from mortal sight,
The great King's messengers bring love and light—
Blessed are they!

Blessed are they whose labours only cease
When God decrees the quiet, sweet release;
Who lie down calmly in the sleep of peace—
Blessed are they!
Whose dust is angel-guarded, where the flowers
And soft moss cover it, in this earth of ours;
Whose souls are roaming in celestial bowers—
Blessed are they!

Blessed are they—our precious ones—who trod
A pathway for us o'er the rock-strewn sod.
How are they number'd with the saints of God!
Blessed are they!

Blessed are they, elected to sit down
With Christ, in that day of supreme renown,
When His own Bride shall wear her bridal crown—
Blessed are they!

poem by Ada Cambridge
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The Resting-Place

“Because I live, ye shall live also.”

Calmly the Paschal moonlight now is sleeping
On mossy hillock and on headstone grey,
Where still our Mother holds in faithful keeping
Such as, while living, in her dear arms lay.
Ah! loving and beloved, we know ye rest,
E'en in the grave, upon her hallow'd breast.

Where is the cumbrous robe—the flesh—the matter
Which held the spirit in such painful thrall?
A little dust that scarce a breath would scatter,
Darkness, and void, and silence—this seems all.
Yet somewhere, safe, the waiting body lies,
While the freed spirit is in Paradise.

Ah! in that day, when earth is all refinèd
From death and sin, the darkness and the stain;
When Eden's perfect beauty is enshrinèd
In unmarred purity and light again;
Transfigured, and “exceeding white as snow”—
But still that body—it will rise, we know.

The self-same lips that hymn'd the Easter story
With heart of Easter gladness, here, may sing
The song of angels, in the angels' glory,
Around the throne of our Almighty King.
The same feet, which this ancient pavement trod,
May walk for aye the temple-courts of God.

O blessed day, which saw the Saviour risen!
Which told to trembling man that wondrous news—
“The grave is not thy body's endless prison,
Thy soul no more in vain for pardon sues.
From Adam's curse, by Christ's death, thou art free—
The Lord accepts this sacrifice for thee.”

“Peace be with you”—by Him those words were spoken
After the glorious victory was won—
After the angel gave that blessed token
To her whose favour'd lips had called him “Son.”
Ah! where were peace, if every trembling breath
Strengthen'd the fetters of an endless death?

Where were the peace, if that dark cloud of mourning
From Calvary's hill had never pass'd away?
If our deep night had never known the dawning
Of that mysterious Resurrection-day?
O Christ our Lord! Thou didst indeed release
Thy sinful children, and didst give them peace.

And now we know that Thou art throned for ever,
True God, and yet true man, in heaven above;
That now no power our life from Thine can sever,
That naught shall rob us of Thy gift of love;
That Thou, within the veil, dost intercede
For all who suffer and for all in need.

That Thou art with us here, too, in our sorrow—
With us to help in every time of strife,
Dost give to each dark day its joyous morrow,
Dost make us strong with Thine own love and life.
And we may love, and we may come to Thee
In heaven, and share Thy great felicity!

Ay, when the grass upon our grave is sighing
In the cool wind and Easter moonlight fair,
The mortal dust, beneath the violets lying,
Shall rest in hope and rest in safety there,
Till Thou shalt come with Thy celestial train,
And our bright spirit take its own again.

“After Thy likeness,” in its sweet perfection,
Shall we awake in that eternal day;
All—save the sin—shall have its resurrection,
Clothed in Thy glorious immortality.
And we shall stand Thy radiant throne beside,
Blessed for evermore, and—satisfied!

poem by Ada Cambridge
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God’s Peace

There is a peace available, in troubled times, but not to all,
A peace available all the time, greater than peace of mind,
And this peace goes everywhere, to handle every tiny care,
But it has no limits to, the problems it can see you through.

The peace that I’m speaking of, will only come from above,
Peace God gives to His own, flowing down from His throne,
The peace of God all receive, when by faith they do believe,
The Gospel Truth of His Son, Christ, who died for everyone.

Though He died, now He lives, as this peace to us He gives,
Sent to believers in this life, to shelter them from daily strife,
The Holy Spirit is God’s agent, in whom God’s peace is sent,
The Spirit is our true comforter, giving us peace in trials sore.

This peace for us is secured, by the work done by The Lord,
And the only part left for us, is to place in The Lord our trust,
Then with a loving nod, Christ sends to us the peace of God,
A peace into a believer’s heart, that from God will not depart.

Peace always there for those, keeping eyes on He who rose,
Who gave to them a new life, centered in the peace of Christ,
This as that believer lives, through the Spirit that Christ gives,
Providing them God’s peace, in their heart that will not cease.

poem by Bob Gotti
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Life At Its Best

Jesus came as Prince of Peace, offering a life that will not cease.
There’s a peace He came to give, to all on earth who chose to live,
Life on this earth at its very best, until this weary body’s laid to rest.
Helping us to live this earthly life, while dealing with the daily strife.

For this peace we must lay on Him, every burden and anxious whim.
Satan may place a trial in our way, to fill our heart with utter dismay,
But with the presence of The Lord, help and grace can be implored,
If as Believer’s we would only dare, cast to Christ every single care.

God The Father calls upon all of us, to in His Son place all our trust.
All cares and burdens of this life, are to be cast to the feet of Christ.
The Lord Jesus Christ is over all, and knows all needs, big and small,
When we trust Him with all our days, God fills life with joy and praise.

It’s not an option as some suggest, or from Christ a passing request,
For it is a command to cast to Him, all our burden lest to turns to sin,
As the sins of worry and of unbelief, is what the enemy tries to seed.
To take our mind off Jesus Christ; and fill our heart with undue strife.

God’s inner peace is the essence, of living daily in Christ’s presence,
For when a trial causes one grief, His omnipresence brings him relief.
All that I need, I have through Grace, that helps me any time or place,
Grace from God that will not cease, that gives me Everlasting Peace.

(04/2007)

poem by Bob Gotti
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sabbath Queen

The sun has already disappeared beyond the treetops,
Come let us go and welcome the Sabbath Queen,
She is already descending among us, holy and blessed,
And with her are angels, a host of peace and rest,
Come, O Queen,
Come, O Queen,
Peace be unto you, O Angels of Peace.'

We have welcomed the Shabbat with song and prayer,
Let us return home our hearts full of joy.
There, the table is set, the lights are lit,
Every corner of the house is shining with a divine spark.
A good and blessed Shabbat.
A good and blessed Shabbat.
Come in peace, O Angels of Peace.

Sit among us, O pure Shabbat Queen, and enlighten us with your splendor.
Tonight and tomorrow–then you may pass on.
And we for our part will honor you by wearing beautiful clothing,
By singing zemirot, by praying, and by eating three meals.
And with complete rest.
And with pleasant rest.
Bless me with peace, O Angels of Peace.

The sun has already disappeared beyond the treetops.
Come let us accompany the Sabbath Queen’s departure.
Go in peace, holy and blessed.
Know that for six day we will await your return.
Yes, till next Shabbat.
Yes, till next Shabbat.
Go in peace, O Angels of Peace.

poem by Hayyim Nahman Bialik
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Life's Standing Law

Law to arrogance void of sight
To prideful souls astray
Blessed is the heart with Truth &Light
Revealing Heaven’s Way

Blessed is the child humble at heart
The meek on bended knee
Surely The Lord will peace impart
And set bound spirits free

Blessed is the man woman and child
Who seek Salvation’s Dawn
Who’ve quit their wayward running wild
To find their souls reborn

Blessed is the child with Godly fear
Who seeks but righteous gain
Love’s grace will dry each bitter tear
And vanquish every pain

Blessed is the child who mourns today
Who’s spirit’s mild and poor
Who trusts in God, who Christ obey
And through true faith endure

Blessed is the child suffering now
The gracious who forgive
Who’s knees to Jesus humbly bow
That other souls may live

Blessed are the ones who truly thirst
Who hunger night and day
Who place God’s Son and neighbours first
Along The Narrow Way

Blessed is the heart of selflessness
The soul that walks in peace
The child who’s aim is righteousness
The God! Who gives increase

poem by Michael P. Johnson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Life’s Standing Law