Song Of The Furies
Up and lead the dance of Fate!
Lift the song that mortals hate!
Tell what rights are ours on earth,
Over all of human birth.
Swift of foot to avenge are we!
He whose hands are clean and pure,
Naught our wrath to dread hath he;
Calm his cloudless days endure.
But the man that seeks to hide
Like him (1), his gore-bedewèd hands,
Witnesses to them that died,
The blood avengers at his side,
The Furies' troop forever stands.
O'er our victim come begin!
Come, the incantation sing,
Frantic all and maddening,
To the heart a brand of fire,
The Furies' hymn,
That which claims the senses dim,
Tuneless to the gentle lyre,
Withering the soul within.
The pride of all of human birth,
All glorious in the eye of day,
Dishonored slowly melts away,
Trod down and trampled to the earth,
Whene'er our dark-stoled troop advances,
Whene'er our feet lead on the dismal dances.
For light our footsteps are,
And perfect is our might,
Awful remembrances of guilt and crime,
Implacable to mortal prayer,
Far from the gods, unhonored, and heaven's light,
We hold our voiceless dwellings dread,
All unapproached by living or by dead.
What mortal feels not awe,
Nor trembles at our name,
Hearing our fate-appointed power sublime,
Fixed by the eternal law.
For old our office, and our fame,
Might never yet of its due honors fail,
Though 'neath the earth our realm in unsunned regions pale.
Related quotes
The Silence in the Church
“The congregation shall be desired, secretly in their prayers, to make their humble
supplications to God . . . .
for the which prayers there shall be silence kept for a
space.”
(No. 1.)
O Holy spirit, we entreat,
Send down Thy quickening fire;
Let Thine own presence, dread and sweet,
These waiting hearts inspire.
In every thought and word and deed,
Breathe Thou the breath of life—
The fulness of the grace they need
For their appointed strife.
Help them to hold, in clasp of prayer,
The rod and staff of God;
And lead them safely, surely, where
The Christ Himself hath trod.
Give power to speak Thy message, Lord,
To every feeble voice;
May they the true seed cast abroad
Till desert wastes rejoice.
Make strong the toiling hearts and hands,
Keep watching eyes from sleep,
That golden harvests crown the lands
When angels come to reap.
* * * * *
(No. 2.)
POUR now, O Lord, all gifts of grace
From Thy most holy dwelling-place;
And let the living flame be shed
On each disciple's bended head.
Light up his soul with light divine,—
A star of heaven on earth to shine,
A beacon on life's stormy sea,
To guide the wandering bark to Thee.
Lord, clothe him now in white complete,
In Thine own spirit, pure and sweet;
Let him go forth to labour well,
In truth and strength invincible.
May his calm lips, that whisper now
The yearning prayer, the solemn vow,
Be ready, in the judgment-day,
The faithful servant's words to say—
“Lord, I have tried, in faithful strife,
To win Thy lambs to light and life;
Lord, I have truly kept for Thee
The awful charge Thou gavest me.”
poem by Ada Cambridge
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Funeral Song
Who will sing the funeral songs of mine?
O my dear heart
Think and observe all the elements
Than answers the question truly
Who will sing the songs of funeral for you?
Who will congratulate you on your ultimate success.
I sing the song of love,
The songs of my heart,
The ultimate pronounce for the sake of love.
Then who will sing the songs of my innocence heart
When all the songs of mine will stop for ever.
Lives comes, lives goes,
Death gives birth of new souls.
Behold the history of the love
The heart which processes the love
Acquire the immortality of heart.
Behold the history of love,
The heart which can love like those
Achieves the immortality of soul.
Only for the ability to worship the heart of love
Those can’t attain by any eternal senses.
Only the nominated, elected and selected souls
By the mercy of Heaven
Can have the power to love.
Love, earnestly love thy souls
And in return you will have the love.
The love will as sanctified as the love of you,
The love will concern with heart
As much as concern with your heart.
The heart will sing the funeral song for you,
The love will sing the love song for you,
The love will make you alive
In the mortal days of lives,
Worship your heart,
Remember your songs,
Nothing else nor the others
But only love, only love.
Only the love can survive you
After the thousands years of your death.
Though died, possesses a newer mortal life
I perceive the fact, I do perceive of fact.
The love will sing for you
I do confidently declare by the Lord’s name
The love will congratulate at your conquer
The love will sing the joyous song of your joy.
O love,
O the love,
I know, I hear and I behold.
The love,
The eco of love,
The alliteration of love.
I heed the echoes of love
From the origin of soul
To the present day of the life
From Adam to the computer.
I hear the echo,
I do hear the echo.
O the loving soul
Hold your ear in the air,
You also have the sound of the echo,
The sacred echo – love, love and love.
The love will sing the song for my funeral,
The love will congratulate me
With heartiest affection of love,
The love will remember me in the earth,
The love will give a newer birth of mine
After the death of my earthen form.
I do proud in this sense
I have the heart
And I have the potency,
The mighty Lord’s mercy
To love, to love earnestly.
The love, the ability to love,
This love will sing my funeral song
And alive me in this earth
Until the last day of the light of the sun.
I sing for this love,
I do sing for this love.
poem by Md. Moniruzzaman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Praise Unto The Lord
Lord Jesus is worthy to be praised, for by God's Power, He was raised,
Jesus died for sinners like you and me, to give mortal man life eternally,
He was buried, rose from the grave; with that power, men God will save,
All those who believe in Jesus Christ, God shall raise up unto a new life.
Our praise, belongs to only Him, Who came to save this world from sin,
Sent from Heaven to the sinful earth, to offer mortal man a second birth,
The Eternal Son, sent by God, to be man's Savior upon this earthly sod,
He came to serve, not to be served, so all our praise to Him is deserved.
All man’s praise He's deserving of, for all His unmerited Grace and Love,
He bestows on undeserving men, whose praise returned will have no end.
We deserved only His Righteous Wrath, for we were on a darkened path,
And yet He sent Grace to all men, in a dark world that stood condemned.
Deserving all praise and much more, for not only is He God's open Door,
To God’s Salvation as our Savior, but, Christ is also our Lord and Creator,
Eternal Creator of every single soul, Who came to us to make men whole,
Coming to earth as God’s Sacrifice, willing to pay for us, sin’s awful price.
All nations will praise The Lamb of God, Who shall return with an Iron Rod;
From the stones our Lord could raise, children who would give Him praise,
Even if no one on earth understands, the trees alone shall clap their hands,
This, when Christ Jesus returns again, as Creator God and Lord of all men.
(Copyright ©01/2009)
Halo Dies
hebrew lyrics
"Father thou art in heaven
Thy kingdom cries hallow lives
The sacred halo dies
You defied and turned your back
Upon our lord of Wrath
All faith you lack
You walk (upon) this beaten path"
All man shall fall as Abel fell to Cain
By fire, by storm, by hail & by rain
The sacred triad, the three that are one
Shall serve the word, thy will shall be done
Hell hath no fury as a God scorned
Unleash his wrath
he will let death be adorned
"I will cleanse the world with fire
Scorched earth forevermore
Purple tongues that burn,
shall climb higher
Seas of flame will crush ashore
Shed the blood of mortal man
The pains of birth are felt again
Reduce to none, thou art unborn
The end of man, human dethroned
All light is gone..."
The rage of the lord is ever true
You have been lead by the eternal deceiver
He is the life taker, and pain giver
(Who) dwells into the depths of darkened fever
There, as always, he lies, waiting - silent forever at the door
The wrath of God that has befell you
The servant of God - Jobe, the faithful beleiver
He turned into a shadow, all fear and shiver
Eve he drove astray and Adam to believe her
The serpent coils inside its lair
As if picking at an open sore
Forever man's sins shall
survive his earthly demise
Wallow in hateful ways & his life of lies
Eternal redemption they do not want nor seek
Short are their days & feeble
Naught but pleasure they adore...
Hebrew lyrics
song performed by by Orphaned Land
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Cranes Of Ibycus
Once to the song and chariot-fight,
Where all the tribes of Greece unite
On Corinth's isthmus joyously,
The god-loved Ibycus drew nigh.
On him Apollo had bestowed
The gift of song and strains inspired;
So, with light staff, he took his road
From Rhegium, by the godhead fired.
Acrocorinth, on mountain high,
Now burns upon the wanderer's eye,
And he begins, with pious dread,
Poseidon's grove of firs to tread.
Naught moves around him, save a swarm
Of cranes, who guide him on his way;
Who from far southern regions warm
Have hither come in squadron gray.
"Thou friendly band, all hail to thee!
Who led'st me safely o'er the sea!
I deem thee as a favoring sign,--
My destiny resembles thine.
Both come from a far distant coast,
Both pray for some kind sheltering place;--
Propitious toward us be the host
Who from the stranger wards disgrace!"
And on he hastes, in joyous wood,
And reaches soon the middle wood
When, on a narrow bridge, by force
Two murderers sudden bar his course.
He must prepare him for the fray,
But soon his wearied hand sinks low;
Inured the gentle lyre to play,
It ne'er has strung the deadly bow.
On gods and men for aid he cries,--
No savior to his prayer replies;
However far his voice he sends,
Naught living to his cry attends.
"And must I in a foreign land,
Unwept, deserted, perish here,
Falling beneath a murderous hand,
Where no avenger can appear?"
Deep-wounded, down he sinks at last,
When, lo! the cranes' wings rustle past.
He hears,--though he no more can see,--
Their voices screaming fearfully.
"By you, ye cranes, that soar on high,
If not another voice is heard,
Be borne to heaven my murder-cry!"
He speaks, and dies, too, with the word.
The naked corpse, ere long, is found,
And, though defaced by many a wound,
His host in Corinth soon could tell
The features that he loved so well.
"And is it thus I find thee now,
Who hoped the pine's victorious crown
To place upon the singer's brow,
Illumined by his bright renown?"
The news is heard with grief by all
Met at Poseidon's festival;
All Greece is conscious of the smart,
He leaves a void in every heart;
And to the Prytanis [33] swift hie
The people, and they urge him on
The dead man's manes to pacify
And with the murderer's blood atone.
But where's the trace that from the throng
The people's streaming crowds among,
Allured there by the sports so bright,
Can bring the villain back to light?
By craven robbers was he slain?
Or by some envious hidden foe?
That Helios only can explain,
Whose rays illume all things below.
Perchance, with shameless step and proud,
He threads e'en now the Grecian crowd--
Whilst vengeance follows in pursuit,
Gloats over his transgression's fruit.
The very gods perchance he braves
Upon the threshold of their fane,--
Joins boldly in the human waves
That haste yon theatre to gain.
For there the Grecian tribes appear,
Fast pouring in from far and near;
On close-packed benches sit they there,--
The stage the weight can scarcely bear.
Like ocean-billows' hollow roar,
The teaming crowds of living man
Toward the cerulean heavens upsoar,
In bow of ever-widening span.
Who knows the nation, who the name,
Of all who there together came?
From Theseus' town, from Aulis' strand
From Phocis, from the Spartan land,
From Asia's distant coast, they wend,
From every island of the sea,
And from the stage they hear ascend
The chorus's dread melody.
Who, sad and solemn, as of old,
With footsteps measured and controlled,
Advancing from the far background,
Circle the theatre's wide round.
Thus, mortal women never move!
No mortal home to them gave birth!
Their giant-bodies tower above,
High o'er the puny sons of earth.
With loins in mantle black concealed,
Within their fleshless bands they wield
The torch, that with a dull red glows,--
While in their cheek no life-blood flows;
And where the hair is floating wide
And loving, round a mortal brow,
Here snakes and adders are descried,
Whose bellies swell with poison now.
And, standing in a fearful ring,
The dread and solemn chant they sing,
That through the bosom thrilling goes,
And round the sinner fetters throws.
Sense-robbing, of heart-maddening power,
The furies' strains resound through air
The listener's marrow they devour,--
The lyre can yield such numbers ne'er.
"Happy the man who, blemish-free,
Preserves a soul of purity!
Near him we ne'er avenging come,
He freely o'er life's path may roam.
But woe to him who, hid from view,
Hath done the deed of murder base!
Upon his heels we close pursue,--
We, who belong to night's dark race!"
"And if he thinks to 'scape by flight,
Winged we appear, our snare of might
Around his flying feet to cast,
So that he needs must fall at last.
Thus we pursue him, tiring ne'er,--
Our wrath repentance cannot quell,--
On to the shadows, and e'en there
We leave him not in peace to dwell!"
Thus singing, they the dance resume,
And silence, like that of the tomb,
O'er the whole house lies heavily,
As if the deity were nigh.
And staid and solemn, as of old,
Circling the theatre's wide round,
With footsteps measured and controlled,
They vanish in the far background.
Between deceit and truth each breast.
Now doubting hangs, by awe possessed,
And homage pays to that dread might,
That judges what is hid from sight,--
That, fathomless, inscrutable,
The gloomy skein of fate entwines,
That reads the bosom's depths full well,
Yet flies away where sunlight shines.
When sudden, from the tier most high,
A voice is heard by all to cry:
"See there, see there, Timotheus!
Behold the cranes of Ibycus!"
The heavens become as black as night,
And o'er the theatre they see,
Far over-head, a dusky flight
Of cranes, approaching hastily.
"Of Ibycus!"--That name so blest
With new-born sorrow fills each breast.
As waves on waves in ocean rise,
From mouth to mouth it swiftly flies:
"Of Ibycus, whom we lament?
Who fell beneath the murderer's hand?
What mean those words that from him went?
What means this cranes' advancing band?"
And louder still become the cries,
And soon this thought foreboding flies
Through every heart, with speed of light--
"Observe in this the furies' might!
The poets manes are now appeased
The murderer seeks his own arrest!
Let him who spoke the word be seized,
And him to whom it was addressed!"
That word he had no sooner spoke,
Than he its sound would fain invoke;
In vain! his mouth, with terror pale,
Tells of his guilt the fearful tale.
Before the judge they drag them now
The scene becomes the tribunal;
Their crimes the villains both avow,
When neath the vengeance-stroke they fall.
poem by Friedrich Schiller
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Raised Up By God
Friend, I was raised up by God, to walk with Him upon earth’s sod,
He raised me up from the dust, when He breathed life into all of us.
But, because of man’s sinful fall, I did not walk with The Lord at all,
I simply went about my sinful way, living only for myself day to day.
Although I did not walk with Him, He came to save me from my sin,
While upon that cross at Calvary, where Christ died for you and me.
That sin that lead my heart astray, had taken me down a darker way,
But it was God’s love, not His wrath, that lead me to a brighter path.
I simply lived a life of emptiness, as I lived in my own righteousness,
A life far removed from God above, and void of His Grace and Love.
And it took me to an empty plight, all shaded by the darkened night,
But He put me on a path that’s right, one filled with my Savior’s Light.
God then raised me up to New Life, one that is found in Jesus Christ,
The Lord, who had truly died for me, has now given me Life Eternally.
Christ who raised me from the dust, is the One in whom I put my trust,
And through the power of New Birth, will soon raise me from the earth.
I shall be raised by Christ my Lord, to then live with God forevermore,
Until then, God fills these earthly days, with His Power and His Praise,
To lead others on earth to new life, through the Power of Jesus Christ,
And when together we are raised, in Glory God will be forever praised.
Genius
Woe unto him! the child of this sad earth,
Who, in a troubled world, unjust and blind,
Bears Genius--treasure of celestial birth,
Within his solitary soul enshrined.
Woe unto him! for Envy's pangs impure,
Like the undying vultures', will be driven
Into his noble heart, that must endure
Pangs for each triumph; and, still unforgiven,
Suffer Prometheus' doom, who ravished fire from Heaven.
Still though his destiny on earth may be
Grief and injustice; who would not endure
With joyful calm, each proffered agony;
Could he the prize of Genius thus ensure?
What mortal feeling kindled in his soul
That clear celestial flame, so pure and high,
O'er which nor time nor death can have control,
Would in inglorious pleasures basely fly
From sufferings whose reward is Immortality?
No! though the clamors of the envious crowd
Pursue the son of Genius, he will rise
From the dull clod, borne by an effort proud
Beyond the reach of vulgar enmities.
'Tis thus the eagle, with his pinions spread,
Reposing o'er the tempest, from that height
Sees the clouds reel and roll above our head,
While he, rejoicing in his tranquil flight,
More upward soars sublime in heaven's eternal light.
poem by Victor Hugo
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Black Snow
Winter has come
He'll show us
What will come upon
The forever lasting signs
Flowers shall wilt
And never grow again
Trees and us have died in Winter's wrath
He have only hallowness
Filled with dread
Does he have darkness in his heart?
Is pain all he seeks?
Yet he have sadness in his eyes
Is pain all he seeks?
We shall wilt
And never grow again
We died upon Winter's wrath
We shall filled his hallowness
Filled with only dread
But, Winter's tears fallen upon us
Expecting ice to stab thee
Cold as his heart we have expected
For coming at us
Is the cold snow of his sadness
His sadness is greater than his hate
His loss is greater than our pain
He murdered us for a reason
Probably he knows that Spring will never revive us
Spring have died with the Earth and tribe
Sadness in his heart?
The pain is what he has left
Yet there is greif in his blackened heart
Is salvation all he seeks?
His pain will finally fall apart
His heart is broken
And forever more, he will never have love again
Spring have died in human's wrath
For his heart is hallow
His tears shall bury us
In black snow
(12-6-09)
poem by Elisha De La Rosa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Judgment Day
Judgment Day will soon be here, what do Christians have to fear?
Nothing, for they know The Truth, we shall not see God's Reproof,
The judgment that shall be poured, down on the earth by The Lord,
Christians are upon another path, and will not see the Lord's Wrath.
Believers, will be judged in His Love, at Christ's Bema Seat above,
We too will be judged, for our works, which will have eternal perks,
For all the things done for our Lord, we may receive eternal reward,
But, for all done by selfish desire, those works, will be burnt in fire,
If we do above face any trouble, it shall be hay, wood and stubble,
As all our works, Christ shall define, through the Fire of His design,
All that makes it through the fire, were our works of His pure desire,
As on earth we served Jesus Christ, during our temporal earthly life.
After this, a Supper with The Lamb, up above with The Great "I AM."
Dining with Jesus Christ, our Lord, Who, down here, we've adored,
During that time upon the earth, now in Heaven, through New Birth,
For at the time that we believed, Eternal Life from Him we received.
Through Wrath we need not to cope, as His Judgment is our Hope,
For we'll be taken from this earth, up into Heaven, in our New Birth,
Now perfect, with Christ for all time, all through God's pure design,
To return to former ways, never, but, to reign with The Lord forever.
(Copyright ©09/2012)
The Complaint Of Prometheus
PROMETHEUS (alone)
O holy Aether, and swift-winged Winds,
And River-wells, and laughter innumerous
Of yon Sea-waves! Earth, mother of us all,
And all-viewing cyclic Sun, I cry on you,--
Behold me a god, what I endure from gods!
Behold, with throe on throe,
How, wasted by this woe,
I wrestle down the myriad years of Time!
Behold, how fast around me
The new King of the happy ones sublime
Has flung the chain he forged, has shamed and bound me!
Woe, woe! to-day's woe and the coming morrow's
I cover with one groan. And where is found me
A limit to these sorrows?
And yet what word do I say? I have foreknown
Clearly all things that should be; nothing done
Comes sudden to my soul--and I must bear
What is ordained with patience, being aware
Necessity doth front the universe
With an invincible gesture. Yet this curse
Which strikes me now, I find it hard to brave
In silence or in speech. Because I gave
Honor to mortals, I have yoked my soul
To this compelling fate. Because I stole
The secret fount of fire, whose bubbles went
Over the ferrule's brim, and manward sent
Art's mighty means and perfect rudiment,
That sin I expiate in this agony,
Hung here in fetters, 'neath the blanching sky.
Ah, ah me! what a sound,
What a fragrance sweeps up from a pinion unseen
Of a god, or a mortal, or nature between,
Sweeping up to this rock where the earth has her bound,
To have sight of my pangs, or some guerdon obtain--
Lo, a god in the anguish, a god in the chain!
The god Zeus hateth sore,
And his gods hate again,
As many as tread on his glorified floor,
Because I loved mortals too much evermore.
Alas me! what a murmur and motion I hear,
As of birds flying near!
And the air undersings
The light stroke of their wings--
And all life that approaches I wait for in fear.
The Robes Which Bind
the ropes which bind the human soul
to the mortal earth are frayed and old
the are made filthy and washed by rain
the storms of times passing
the knots like fists cling tightly
while cracks and holes do nothing
the ropes which bind the human soul
to the mortal earth are frayed
weathered, worn, abused and cut
still, still they hold on regardless
like an indomitable spirit
those fist knots, those woven strands
anchor the soul to the earth
as though life itself depends
the day, the night the heavens above
names of faultless graces written
upon the fabricated strands
perhaps those of the fates themselves
the ropes which bind the human soul
to the mortal earth are frayed and old
but still, still they hold
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Esplumoir
Before birth we lay as nothing, alas sweet nothing at all,
We are as the one, dedicated to naught but our Love of unison.
How are our souls ever to learn if we are forever earning
Our dues through celestial favours?
How are our souls ever to grow if all we ever know are the
Tastes of terrestrial flavours?
Through the gift of mortal tenancy we are thrown
Into the chaos that surrounds us throughout the day realm.
How are we ever to remain steady at the helm
If we are never given a vessel within which we may sail?
How are we to succeed in our Endeavour if we are never given
The ability to fail?
How are we ever to learn if we are never given the chance
To earn the respect of fellow earthen dancers?
Do not wish away your time upon this earth but know
That your birth was a blessing, a dressing of the soul.
Know that we can never be anything more than a whole
Complete if we are given no separation from unity.
Within our hearts lay a throne for the queen of appreciation.
She knows her place, she knows her face and she is proud
She proclaims her love aloud for every cloud that graces
Her skyline. She’s doing fine without transcendence for she knows
That one day the soul of the world will embrace her once more.
Her awareness of herself she sees a gift with which she may lift spirit
For it is only when we are taken from our existence eternal and given
The gift of mortality that we realise it is the Gods who envy we,
Those adrift amongst a sea of souls. Some practice non thought
Denying there existence as an illusion, yet are they not confused towards
The fact that it is an appreciation of life that they are lacking.
For we hath been born without good warning of the world that tears
Itself apart outside, yet we are not to hide and wish away the clouds of
Grey, we are to love our existence and know that death is our only assurance.
Each will one day become one with the whole, each will loose sense of their
Soul, so embrace the day whist you may and know the search for truth is the
Most honourable of all, yet no truth is there to be found in hiding away
From the world outside your window blurring. Ground. Center. Earth yourself
And know that even though you may perceive all we hath received as nothing
More than an illusion, you will do naught but confuse yourself in trying to attain
A state of un-being before death, for we hath an eternity to enjoy the void.
poem by David Lacey
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I Am A New Word
i am a new word
to the vocabulary of the flesh
and the soul
they all live in me for this moment
and slowly i must define myself
gently i must touch the beauty of my soul
with the mortal hands of my body
there must be a way
to harmonize light and darkness
living in twilight
in the land where light and darkness meet
where love and hate embrace
where heaven and earth kiss
i am a new word
and in my heart and mind i must define myself
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Grave Digger
I am a quite, humble, honest and very generous man
who likes to aid people around as much as I can
And I should not be utterly despised for my vocation
Just because I am a grave digger by profession
Indeed, I do not desire or wish the dead
People should live long and loved side by side
Pure life with no baseness, shame or sin to hide
But if no one dies how shall I pay my debts I dread
I pray and mourn any human that rests below
And as the grasses in the cemetery wave
I passionately take care of every stone grave
In passing the dirt and dust I blow
I never wrong a grave with fears and tears untrue
Nor can I be blamed for carrying on my job with no faith
There must be wisdom and sense in death
Life cannot continue forever, once all must be thru
And yet people find but faults in my case
I have never been saluted in friendly grace
They pass me by without leaving any embrace
In a sublime whisper: Here come the funeral face
For I am near you when your light is in halt
when the blood creeps, and the nerves tingle and prick
And the heart heavily throbs; it is tattered and sick
And all the world comes to a close; the wheels of being thwart
Come at night within the cemetery walls
When the moon light shines on time wracked stones
Those who lie with legacies and dreams dead unborn
As the lunar splendor stretches shadows as it falls
Those who lie beneath their fancies and fears
when alive sorrow and grief dug deepening down
And with muffled motions blindly drown
The agony and anguish of their life in tears.
People hate me with deep rancor and loath
Because I am a grave digger in truthful oath
And I am upset full of anguish and misery
Impossible to get a friend, were it not better not to be
Cant they understand all human things are subject to decay
Life do not go forever upon the land
For every beginning there is an end
When fate summons, even monarchs must obey
We all as humans of any color or faith
Hold common scorn and defame to eternal death
The creaking sound of cords lowering us down
As earth returns back to earth with no rising dawn
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Walking Through Fields Of Fire
I walk through fields of fire
With coals of fire beneath my feet
I sail through stormy waters
Guided by the mercy seat
The brimstones shortly coming
You must flee now from the wrath
For fire falls down from heaven
Yet I am guided by His staff
The narrow path through valleys dark
Leads onward to the hill
And all around the mountains fall
But our Lord says ' be still.'
Come higher now ascend the hill
My God atop He stands
And looks to see the pure in heart
To see those with clean hands
Who is this King lift up your head
And sing with all your might
The King of Glory is His name
His light defeats the night
He is God's Son, the Holy One
He puts and end to death and sin
Fall to your knees, lift up your hands
And the King of Glory shall come in!
poem by Frank McEleny
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Sacrifice Of Iphigenia
Now long and long from wintry Strymon blew
The weary, hungry, anchor-straining blasts,
The winds that wandering seamen dearly rue,
Nor spared the cables worn and groaning masts;
And, lingering on, in indolent delay,
Slow wasted all the strength of Greece away.
But when the shrill-voiced prophet 'gan proclaim
That remedy more dismal and more dread
Than the drear weather blackening overhead,
And spoke in Artemis' most awful name,
The sons of Atreus, 'mid their armed peers,
Their sceptres dashed to earth, and each broke out in tears,
And thus the elder king began to say:
"Dire doom! to disobey the gods' commands!
More dire, my child, mine house's pride, to slay,
Dabbling in virgin blood a father's hands.
Alas! alas! which way to fly?
As base deserter quit the host,
The pride and strength of our great league all lost?
Should I the storm-appeasing rite deny,
Will not their wrathfullest wrath rage up and swell?
Exact the virgin's blood?--oh, would 't were o'er and well!"
So, 'neath Necessity's stern yoke he passed,
And his lost soul, with impious impulse veering,
Surrendered to the accursed unholy blast,
Warped to the dire extreme of human daring.
The frenzy of affliction still
Maddens, dire counselor, man's soul to ill.
So he endured to be the priest
In that child-slaughtering rite unblest,
The first full offering of that host
In fatal war for a bad woman lost.
The prayers, the mute appeal to her hard sire,
Her youth, her virgin beauty,
Naught heeded they, the chiefs for war on fire.
So to the ministers of that dire duty
(First having prayed) the father gave the sign,
Like some soft kid, to lift her to the shrine.
There lay she prone,
Her graceful garments round her thrown;
But first her beauteous mouth around
Their violent bonds they wound,
With their rude inarticulate might,
Lest her dread curse the fatal house should smite.
But she her saffron robe to earth let fall:
The shaft of pity from her eye
Transpierced that awful priesthood--one and all.
Lovely as in a picture stood she by
As she would speak. Thus at her father's feasts
The virgin, 'mid the reveling guests,
Was wont with her chaste voice to supplicate
For her dear father an auspicious fate.
I saw no more! to speak more is not mine;
Not unfulfilled was Calchas' lore divine.
Eternal justice still will bring
Wisdom out of suffering.
So to the fond desire farewell,
The inevitable future to foretell;
'Tis but our woe to antedate;
Joint knit with joint, expands the full-formed fate.
Yet at the end of these dark days
May prospering weal return at length;
Thus in his spirit prays
He of the Apian land the sole remaining strength.
The Female Martyr
'BRING out your dead!' The midnight street
Heard and gave back the hoarse, low call;
Harsh fell the tread of hasty feet,
Glanced through the dark the coarse white sheet,
Her coffin and her pall.
'What--only one!' the brutal hack-man said,
As, with an oath, he spurned away the dead.
How sunk the inmost hearts of all,
As rolled that dead-cart slowly by,
With creaking wheel and harsh hoof-fall!
The dying turned him to the wall,
To hear it and to die!
Onward it rolled; while oft its driver stayed,
And hoarsely clamored, 'Ho! bring out your dead.'
It paused beside the burial-place;
'Toss in your load!' and it was done.
With quick hand and averted face,
Hastily to the grave's embrace
They cast them, one by one,
Stranger and friend, the evil and the just,
Together trodden in the churchyard dust.
And thou, young martyr! thou wast there;
No white-robed sisters round thee trod,
Nor holy hymn, nor funeral prayer
Rose through the damp and noisome air,
Giving thee to thy God;
Nor flower, nor cross, nor hallowed taper gave
Grace to the dead, and beauty to the grave!
Yet, gentle sufferer! there shall be,
In every heart of kindly feeling,
A rite as holy paid to thee
As if beneath the convent-tree
Thy sisterhood were kneeling,
At vesper hours, like sorrowing angels, keeping
Their tearful watch around thy place of sleeping.
For thou wast one in whom the light
Of Heaven's own love was kindled well;
Enduring with a martyr's might,
Through weary day and wakeful night,
Far more than words may tell
Gentle, and meek, and lowly, and unknown,
Thy mercies measured by thy God alone!
Where manly hearts were failing, where
The throngful street grew foul with death,
O high-souled martyr! thou wast there,
Inhaling, from the loathsome air,
Poison with every breath.
Yet shrinking not from offices of dread
For the wrung dying, and the unconscious dead.
And, where the sickly taper shed
Its light through vapors, damp, confined,
Hushed as a seraph's fell thy tread,
A new Electra by the bed
Of suffering human-kind!
Pointing the spirit, in its dark dismay,
To that pure hope which fadeth not away.
Innocent teacher of the high
And holy mysteries of Heaven!
How turned to thee each glazing eye,
In mute and awful sympathy,
As thy low prayers were given;
And the o'er-hovering Spoiler wore, the while,
An angel's features, a deliverer's smile!
A blessed task! and worthy one
Who, turning from the world, as thou,
Before life's pathway had begun
To leave its spring-time flower and sun,
Had sealed her early vow;
Giving to God her beauty and her youth,
Her pure affections and her guileless truth.
Earth may not claim thee. Nothing here
Could be for thee a meet reward;
Thine is a treasure far more dear
Eye hath not seen it, nor the ear
Of living mortal heard
The joys prepared, the promised bliss above,
The holy presence of Eternal Love!
Sleep on in peace. The earth has not
A nobler name than thine shall be.
The deeds by martial manhood wrought,
The lofty energies of thought,
The fire of poesy,
These have but frail and fading honors; thine
Shall Time unto Eternity consign.
Yea, and when thrones shall crumble down,
And human pride and grandeur fall,
The herald's line of long renown,
The mitre and the kingly crown,--
Perishing glories all!
The pure devotion of thy generous heart
Shall live in Heaven, of which it was a part.
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Heaven And Earth
when heaven and earth i can no longer see
my GOD will be in front of me.
and when my GOD says it's time to die
i know that he'll be by my side.
and when the sun ceases to shine
i know that i will feel his love divine.
and when this earth no longer exists
i will feel his heavenly bliss.
heaven and earth is just a step away
either we do it right, or we come back to pay.
they say that heaven is here on earth
and mankind takes it for all its worth.
when i look to the heavens and see the beauty
of the sky, then i know the reason why.
why i was put on this earth
and why to me, my mother gave birth.
she gave me birth so that i can see
all the beauties that GOD put here for me.
heaven and earth are in unison as one
just like the sky is to the sun.
just like the crops are to the soil
through mans sacrifice and toil.
here on earth the LORD had said
is where you'll come to rest your head.
but in my kingdom of heaven
what you thought was impossibilities
you now will see living in immortality.
you will no longer have the human frailities
and emotions such as hate, envy, sadness, bitterness
sickness and desires, they will all go away
but other things will stay
such as love, joy and happiness
and a desire to help the ones we leave behind
and in hopes that they could find
the meanings of the words that GOD has spoken
and pull out all these inner emotions.
heaven and earth is here and now
in your heart, it will be found.
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lead Me, Humble Prince
Take my hands.
Lead me by your side.
Walk me through every path,
i have always dread.
Take away this flame
and cover my shame.
Aid me of these pains.
Aid me for my heart aches.
Remember...
On thy cross i cling.
For thy blood i plead.
Filthy, wash me clean.
Remember...
My sin is ever before me.
Lead me across this raging guilt.
Say a word, and
raise my bended kneel.
Remember...
Darkness beguile me.
Blind, i cannot see.
Revive me.
Lead me humble Prince.
Remember...
Remember how gave up your pride.
Remember how you were tried.
Remember how you cried.
Remember,
it was all for me.
Heal me.
Unto victory,
Lead me, Humble Prince
poem by Enebeli Ifyprada
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Sing out my soul His anthem raise
Sovereign Lord Whom angels worship
may this mortal sing Your praise?
For my Glorious God You are worth it.
Sing out my soul His anthem raise!
Sing, of salvations wondrous story
and of the way He came to earth.
For our Awesome God of glory
was born to us by virgin birth.
Sing of Him Who came to save you.
How He upon the cross forgave you.
Died as though all the blame was His
No greater love has man than this.
He is the Lord of every nation,
The Ancient of Eternal Days.
He is the Author of our Salvation
to Him we bring to our songs of praise