The Two Terrors
Two terrors fright my soul by night and day:
The first is Life, and with her come the years;
A weary, winding train of maidens they,
With forward-fronting eyes, too sad for tears;
Upon whose kindred faces, blank and grey,
The shadow of a kindred woe appears.
Death is the second terror; who shall say
What form beneath the shrouding mantle nears?
Which way she turn, my soul finds no relief,
My smitten soul may not be comforted;
Alternately she swings from grief to grief,
And, poised between them, sways from dread to dread.
For there she dreads because she knows; and here,
Because she knows not, only faints with fear.
Related quotes
Psalm 27 part 2
v.8,9,13,14
C. M.
Prayer and hope.
Soon as I heard my Father say,
"Ye children, seek my grace,"
My heart replied without delay,
"I'll seek my Father's face."
Let not thy face be hid from me,
Nor frown my soul away;
God of my life, I fly to thee
In a distressing day.
Should friends and kindred near and dear
Leave me to want or die,
My God would make my life his care,
And all my need supply.
My fainting flesh had died with grief
Had not my soul believed,
To see thy grace provide relief;
Nor was my hope deceived.
Wait on the Lord, ye trembling saints,
And keep your courage up;
He'll raise your spirit when it faints,
And far exceed your hope.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Sonnet: What If Death Comes!
A lot of faces known to me are gone,
Including near and dear ones, friends and foes!
I wonder if I would exist till dawn!
Bereavements add to personal grief and woes.
The list grows bigger as I turn older!
Some faces new become acquainted too;
With time, our earthly life appears colder;
When Death souls steals, what earthlings poor can do?
None know when death takes off another soul;
Our state of grace is always important;
Preparing soul for heaven is our goal;
No earthly job is more significant.
Good Christians never fear their time of death,
With faith in God unshakeable since birth!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 3-19-2006
poem by John Celes
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Ode To Death
FRIEND of the wretched! wherefore should the eye
Of blank Despair, whence tears have ceased to flow,
Be turn'd from thee?--Ah! wherefore fears to die
He, who compell'd each poignant grief to know,
Drains to its lowest dregs the cup of woe?
Would Cowardice postpone thy calm embrace,
To linger out long years in torturing pain?
Or not prefer thee to the ills that chase
Him, who too much impoverish'd to obtain
From British Themis right , implores her aid in vain!
Sharp goading Indigence who would not fly,
That urges toil the exhausted strength above?
Or shun the once fond friend's averted eye?
Or who to thy asylum not remove,
To lose the wasting anguish of ungrateful love?
Can then the wounded wretch, who must deplore
What most she loved, to thy cold arms consign'd,
Who hears the voice that soothed her soul no more,
Fear thee , O Death!--Or hug the chains that bind
To joyless, cheerless life, her sick, reluctant mind?
Oh, Misery's cure! who e'er in pale dismay
Has watch'd the angel form they could not save,
And seen their dearest blessing torn away,
May well the terrors of thy triumph brave,
Nor pause in fearful dread before the opening grave!
poem by Charlotte Smith
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The Valley Of Baca
PSALM LXXXIV.
A brackish lake is there with bitter pools
Anigh its margin, brushed by heavy trees.
A piping wind the narrow valley cools,
Fretting the willows and the cypresses.
Gray skies above, and in the gloomy space
An awful presence hath its dwelling-place.
I saw a youth pass down that vale of tears;
His head was circled with a crown of thorn,
His form was bowed as by the weight of years,
His wayworn feet by stones were cut and torn.
His eyes were such as have beheld the sword
Of terror of the angel of the Lord.
He passed, and clouds and shadows and thick haze
Fell and encompassed him. I might not see
What hand upheld him in those dismal ways,
Wherethrough he staggered with his misery.
The creeping mists that trooped and spread around,
The smitten head and writhing form enwound.
Then slow and gradual but sure they rose,
Those clinging vapors blotting out the sky.
The youth had fallen not, his viewless foes
Discomfited, had left the victory
Unto the heart that fainted not nor failed,
But from the hill-tops its salvation hailed.
I looked at him in dread lest I should see,
The anguish of the struggle in his eyes;
And lo, great peace was there! Triumphantly
The sunshine crowned him from the sacred skies.
'From strength to strength he goes,' he leaves beneath
The valley of the shadow and of death.
'Thrice blest who passing through that vale of Tears,
Makes it a well,'-and draws life-nourishment
From those death-bitter drops. No grief, no fears
Assail him further, he may scorn the event.
For naught hath power to swerve the steadfast soul
Within that valley broken and made whole.
poem by Emma Lazarus
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shadow Of My Soul
I've broken the threads of the crazy past
Running forward in my way never to look back
I wonder when will these days last
The shadow of my soul has turned dark and black
Darkness is all i have seen, all that i have felt
This pain is a subtle killer, into my soul has it crept
'save me, lord', in front of you, countless times i have knelt
This grief has made me numb, has stabbed my heart to its depth
I'm running from the shadow of my soul, in those days what I used to be
Another day, another life, still this shadow's watching over me.
poem by Pooja Ladyluck
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Untamed Grief
What comes out of grief dissected, I ask
When it’s mutualised for its pain to mask
Does it settle down like blown dust?
Or disappear like sun rays at dusk
What transcends from grief suppressed?
Does it fly away like a raven?
Or it stealthily searches for another haven
In the subconscious of the beholder
What proceeds from grief deferred?
Does it abscond like the morning dew?
Or it keeps on gnawing like a tumour
And denying a soul of all humour
What incarnates from grief embellished?
Does it pierce like a sword?
Or it exterminates softly without a word
Grief is the reality of life
But shouldn’t eternally blanket a soul with strife
And though every life is garlanded with petals of grief
The stint of its tears ought to be brief
So the taste of living can always be rife!
poem by Valerian Mwenda
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Soul Scream...
A haunting wind travels across my soul,
Death gains ground with every weary step,
Eyes of grey fill with the tears of the condemned,
My soul screams out in a plea for mercy,
Yet the spectre of death has won this race,
That soul scream has become my final breath,
I sleep entwined forever, heart, mind, body and soul...
Spread the love... The peace will follow...
poem by Cosmic Dreamer
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Hymn 47
Death of kindred improved.
Zech. 1:5.
Must friends and kindred droop and die,
And helpers be withdrawn?
While sorrow with a weeping eye
Counts up our comforts gone?
Be thou our comfort, mighty God!
Our helper and our friend;
Nor leave us in this dangerous road,
Till all our trials end.
O may our feet pursue the way
Our pious fathers led!
With love and holy zeal obey
The counsels of the dead.
Let us be weaned from all below,
Let hope our grief expel,
While death invites our souls to go
Where our best kindred dwell.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Down in the dark
Down in the dark, it’s all in my head,
The pain the sorrow, all of the dread,
I want it to leave, but it wants to stay,
I try and I try, but he won’t go away,
There by day, there at night,
Saying the things, that fills me with fright,
I’m down in the dark, it fills my head,
The pain the sorrow, all of the dread,
He’s always around, lurking inside,
Watching; waiting, my hands are tied,
In my head, always near,
In my thoughts, building the fear,
Down in the dark, filling my head,
The pain the sorrow, all of the dread,
The pain; it grows, bursting within,
The dark; he’s back, with his terror filled grin,
“I’ll help”; he says, talking to me,
“I know what to do, just come and see, ”
Down in the dark, it filled my head,
The pain the sorrow, all of the dread,
My thoughts are violent, with sorrow in my chest,
I just close my eyes, and hope for the best,
He tells me good job, I’ll find the light,
But my life is ending, with the chill of the night.,
Dead in the dark, lost in my head,
No more pain or sorrow, not even dread….,
poem by Jacob Hill
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Hymn 31
Christ's presence makes death easy.
Why should we start, and fear to die
What timorous worms we mortals are!
Death is the gate of endless joy,
And yet we dread to enter there.
The pains, the groans, and dying strife,
Fright our approaching souls away;
Still we shrink back again to life,
Fond of our prison and our clay.
O! if my Lord would come and meet,
My soul should stretch her wings in haste,
Fly fearless through death's iron gate,
Nor feel the terrors as she passed.
Jesus can make a dying bed
Feel soft as downy pillows are,
While on his breast I lean my head,
And breathe my life out sweetly there.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Night Of Horror
Night draw closer
like plague,
leaving me in wonderland
for I know not where I belong.
Night‘re for victorious
Night‘re for victim.
The victim is the man;
the victory is for the witches
every night they haunt
my armedless soul. (I dread to night)
Every night‘re nightmares,
They slain my dream
and murder became the
fate of my sleep
Every night they claim
my peace;
the peace that goes with nightfall
and left me to the luxury
of nothing but fear.
Fearing for the night
fearing for nothing,
yet I'm fearing for everything
fearing, and mere fear;
fearing that tonight
they might wash
them guilty hands in my blood
like they did with Caesar's
Night are filled with everything
Yet nothing come to your aid.
Night are brighten by stars
Yet darkness crown we head
I dread night fall.
The hoots of owl
Flames my disgust
For night fall.
The noise from their vocal piece
Make me mistake my dreams
For illusions;
I dread might fall
For at night my soul
Die a thousand time before
Cockcrow.
poem by Matthias Pantaleon
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Unfortunate
Fold her hands upon her breast,
And let her sweetly sleep.
She has found a perfect rest,
Beneath her winding sheet.
Her weary limbs are now at rest,
And free from toil and pain;
Her weary soul from earth has left,
But in Heaven lives again.
Death has closed her mild blue eyes,
That once was full of mirth,
Her lovely form once full of life,
Will now return to earth.
Touch her gently, let her lie,
This forsaken girl forlorn;
Tears may fall from strangers' eyes,
O'er her silent form.
She was a poor erring girl,
A wanderer alone,
Friends she had none in this world,
Nor a place she could call home.
She's found a home bright and fair
In that world above,
Angels dwell together there,
In perfect peace and love,
Place her gently in her grave,
And let her sweetly sleep.
Judge her not; for he who gave
Her life, her soul will keep.
poem by Julia A Moore
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Rest In Peace
A soul dies ever night
Lost in a wake of dread
That is embedded in your mind
You cannot breathe
In a normal life
You cannot see
What others see
All you see is misery
You are blinded
You no longer see
The colours of life
You no longer see
The ordinary things in life
You live in fear
And constant pain
It just consumes
Your soul, your life
Please I beg of thee
Let this soul
Now rest in peace
poem by Kaila George
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Emotional Scavenger
And now in the cold light of day,
Grief casts her shadows long,
and grey
Draining warmth & blinding me
To the glorious hope
Of day;
Grief would steal my soul and hide it
In blackness,
Whispering reminders
Of pain,
And loss,
And death…
Mocking hope's insistence,
Spurning love's comfort;
Grief watches,
Expectant, she waits…
Grief, scavenger of emotions,
Is ever hopeful.
poem by Jinge Norvall
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Fruit Of The Spirit
Though broken 'neath the weight of grief,
The heart beats on in sorrow.
It seeks to meet some soon relief
But finds none in the morrow.
The heart is crushed; it's bruised to tears
And cannot sense the reason
For life that would but disappear
Before it's own due season.
The child who grew next to my heart,
Transfused such love and laughter;
But soon his young life would depart
Ascending the Hereafter.
Oh, Heart, produce your fruit of grief-
Much sweeter than the vine.
For though you're trampled 'neath the Thief,
You're left to pen these lines.
You must beat on against the foe
For Death must be defeated.
Allow your tears of grief to flow
Until with Christ we're seated.
poem by Jean Mallette
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The Day Of Grief And Sorrow
The day of grief and sorrow was yesterday.
Another friend of ours had passed away.
It’s impossible to express in words how our hearts pain,
But we all swear, the memory about him will remain.
He was reliable and life he loved so passionately,
Up to the end he was faithful and friendly.
He was his family support and our coach
Without fear, without reproach.
He could be friends with dignity,
His death for us all is a big calamity.
They say that sky takes the best.
Goodbye forever and let your soul be blessed,
You have found the eternal rest.
Let your soul rest in peace,
The prayer we say and the last bow is on the knees.
Without you here will be less sun,
No more songs you have sung.
Vale of suffering, grief and separation,
There is no one who could be your cogitation.
But death doesn’t ask our permission.
It stops the fuss and makes its own decision.
It’s not in our power anything to change.
With death we can’t take revenge.
We can now only pray and ask God to forgive his sins.
In another eternal world his soul’s life begins.
God! Bless him on the way to the love undying!
God! Clear the sky for his soul flying!
©Larisa Rzhepishevska
January the 30th,2011
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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O Intelligence Moving The Third Heaven
O Intelligences moving the third heaven,
the reasons heed that from my heart come forth,
so new, it seems, that no one else should know.
The heaven set in motion by your worth,
beings in gentleness created even,
keeps my existence in its present woe,
so that to speak of what I feel and know
means to converse most worthily with you:
I beg you, then, to listen to me well.
Of something in me new I now will tell—
how grief and sadness this my soul subdue,
and how a contradiction from afar
speaks through the rays descending from your star.
A thought of loveliness seems now to be
life to my ailing heart: it used to fly
oft to the very presence of your Sire;
and there a glorious Lady sitting high
it also saw, who spoke so pleasingly,
my soul would say “Up there dwells my desire.”
Now one appears, which I in dread admire
a mighty lord that makes it flee away,
so mighty, terror from my heart outflows.
To me he brings a lady very close,
and “Who salvation seeks,” I hear him say,
“let him but gaze into this lady’s eyes,
if he can suffer agony of sighs.”
Such is the contradiction, it can slay
the humble thought that is still telling me
of a fair angel up in heaven crowned.
My soul bemoans its present misery,
saying, “Unhappy me! How fast away
went he, in whom I had some solace found!”
And of my eyes it says, with mournful sound,
“When was it such a lady pierced their sight?
Why did they fail to see me in her guise?
I said, ‘Oh, surely, in this lady’s eyes
the one must dwell who kills my peers with fright.’
To no avail I warned them (Oh, my dread!),
but look at her they did, and I fell dead.”
“Oh, no, not dead, you are bewildered much,
O my poor soul, so pained and grieving so,”
replies a loving spirit, kind and sweet,
“For the fair woman, that you feel and know,
has changed your life so quickly and so much,
you now are trembling in your vile defeat.
Look how humility and mercy meet
in one so wise and gentle in her height:
so call her Lady, as by now you must.
And you will see, if steadfast is your trust,
such lofty miracles, such full delight,
you’ll say, ‘O Love, true lord, do as you please:
here is your humble handmaid on her knees.’”
My song, I do believe that those are few
who can unravel your most hidden sense,
so intricate and mighty is your wit.
Therefore, if by some fate or circumstance
you stray and venture among people who
seem not completely to have fathomed it,
oh, then, I pray, console yourself a bit,
and say, O lovely latest song, to them,
“Notice, at least, how beautiful I am!”
poem by Dante Alighieri
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The Movement Of The Soul
'All the passions can be reduced to four: joy, hope, fear, and grief.
These four are so closely connected that, when one is controlled,
the others all obey. Consequently they can be reduced to one: joy.
And desire is the movement of the soul seeking joy.'
Thomas Merton, The Ascent to Truth
Fear
is knowing
that the dark cloud
bearing down
on thrashing trees,
sending calling birds
to awkwardly flee,
holds both
life
and death,
but not knowing
which it will be.
Fear
can lead to grief
when tumors increase.
Blood grows
thick
until, together
at last, we stand
coffin-side
and wonder
why.
This is the line that splits heaven from hell.
We comb his hair
and shave his face,
carefully fold a rosary
into his cold hands,
and wonder that
his chest is
so still.
But his eyes are safely
sealed against the
terror of the grave,
so we lay him to rest
and slowly go
our separate ways
Remember
those cold March days
when we stood, our
backs to the rising sun?
Too bright
to see, the sun
strokes us
with a lover's warmth,
and rekindles in us
life's desire.
Thus will it always be.
Death can never win
though his illusion is strong.
The mortal body succumbs
but the soul ascends,
like birds, joyfully rising
to the morning sun.
poem by Steven Federle
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Laugh With The World But Weep Alone!
LAUGH WITH THE WORLD
BUT WEEP ALONE!
I have come to bear my own cross,
And to weep alone and dry my tears!
For this sad old world have troubles
galore,
With no time to spare for me or despair!
When I laugh the world laughs with me,
And is ever ready to share my happy times;
But in my hour of grief they shrug and say, -
' A friend in grief is no friend of mine! '
Yet our tears get attached to our joys
and mirth,
Happy moments always bring tears to
our eyes!
For my tears celebrate those short-lived
hours,
Since only happines can never be mine!
So tears flow in silence without a sound,
Knowing that it can't be the other way round!
For when I weep I must weep alone,
With none to share my grief and despair!
This one way traffic is an erroneous rule,
Which mistakenly many believe and share!
With my tears I try to cleanse my soul,
A soul which truly belongs to me!
And those crystal drops reflects the
rainbow,
A grand view my soul gets to see!
But when I share my tears with other's,
I lessen their grief and give them hope;
In caring and sharing we are twice blessed,
Strengthening the bond between human folks!
But should we only share the good times,
While refraining from sharing other's sorrow
and pain,
Our happiness gets all confined,
And our living becomes all in vain!
With a soul which is never blessed,
An uncleansed soul which is left unclean,
That rainbow remains out of sight!
And salvation a distant dream!
-Raj Nandy
New Delhi
02 May 08
Tears & Sorrow = Denver 2012
TEARS
Tears are the raindrops of the soul
And there's one for all who die.
They are the silent words of grief
As they fall free from the eye.
The shortest verse in the Bible
Is the one where Jesus wept
So, if you hold back tears, shed them
When your pain is too harsh to accept.
Tears are lovelier than a smile
When they come from those you love
As they seek relief from sadness
When you're summoned from above.
Tears are a love-mates humble gift
When it's time to say goodbye
Though the eyes are wet and swollen
With time and patience they dry.
SORROW
Sorrow is better than laughter
For by grieving, we're improved.
Blessed be all who morn
Till from sadness they're removed.
After death our souls shall fly
Perhaps from star to star
Reaching our destination
To find Heaven's gate ajar.
God made us able to cry
Sorrow teaches us to fear
Those days we're selfish and cruel
When life is so short and dear.
Time wipes tears from all faces
Whose hearts are tuned to sorrow.
Those that cry a thousand tears
Shall be blessed by tomorrow.
Every night before sleep I say thank you to Heaven
For the past day I was allowed to love you and serve.
And if I awake I say thank you once more
For God has blessed me far beyond what I deserve.