The Little Church Round the Corner
'Bring him not here, where our sainted feet
Are treading the path to glory;
Bring him not here, where our Saviour sweet
Repeats for
us
his story.
Go, take him where such things are done
(For he sat in the seat of the scorner),
To where they have room, for we have none,--
To the little church down the corner.'
So spake the holy man of God,
Of another man, his brother,
Whose cold remains, ere they sought the sod,
Had only asked that a Christian rite
Might be read above them by one whose light
Was, 'Brethren, love one another:'
Had only asked that a prayer be read
Ere his flesh went down to join the dead,
While his spirit looked with suppliant eyes,
Searching for God throughout the skies.
But the priest frowned 'No,' and his brow was bare
Of love in the sight of the mourner,
And they looked for Christ and found him--where?
In that little church round the corner.
Ah! well, God grant when, with aching feet,
We tread life's last few paces,
That we may hear some accents sweet,
And kiss, to the end, fond faces.
God grant that this tired flesh may rest
('Mid many a musing mourner),
While the sermon is preached and the rites are read
In no church where the heart of love is dead,
And the pastor's a pious prig at best,
But in some small nook where God's confessed,--
Some little church round the corner.
poem by Anonymous Americas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Sex & The Church
Though the idea of compassion
Is said to be
The union of christ
And his bride, the christian
Its all very puzzling
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
And the church
And the church
All the great mystic religions
Put strong emphasis, on
Redeame this spiritual qualities
Of sex of sex
Chrstianity
Has been pretty modern
About sex
Of sex of sex of sex of sex
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex sex
I think there is a union
Between the flesh and the spirit
Its sex and the church
Sex and the church
All religions mother
Give me youre freedom of spirit
And the joys of the flesh
Of sex sex sex and the church
Give me youre freedom of spirit
And the joys of the flesh
Of sex sex sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
And the church
And the church
Sex sex
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex sex
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
And the church
And the church
Sex sex
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex sex
Sex
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex sex
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lines on Corner Stone
Impromptu lines delivered at the laying of the corner store
of the church on Culloden road, with Masonic honors.
In this quiet spot, this day of June,
Which will not be forgotten soon,
For when your little church on hill
You overflowingly did fill,
You then resolved there should arise
Church worthy of your enterprise.
You've laid foundation broad and deep,
And showers of blessing may you reap.
Craft of King Hiram and St. John
Have come to lay the corner stone,
At the call of our Grand Master, *
Who, was invited by your pastor.
With Silver trowel all so fair
He laid foundation on the square.
May you be blessed with christian love,
And we all meet in Lodge above.
poem by James McIntyre
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The next to last pew
An old man was at church last Sunday
He sat in the next to last pew
I slid into the seat right next to him
And gave a him a friendly “hi-dee-do”
He gave me a nod with his time worn brow
Then swiveled his head all around
While his gaze sized up the parishioners
His ears seemed to soak up their sound
His sad gaze seemed to pick out each person
One by one, as he seemed to stare into their soul
To some he nodded, in an approving way
While to others his look was ice cold
I asked if he was a member of this church
I said I wasn’t familiar with him, was he new?
He smiled a soft smile and shook his head no
Said “I’m here most of the time…
here in this next to last pew”
I said “what do you think of our little church”
He rubbed his hands through his hair of silver grey
Looked deep in my eyes and gave a soft, sad sigh
And said “you may not like what I have to say”
He said “ Son, I can see into the soul of these people
And to you, what I say is on the level”
That Most are fools in the eyes of the Lord
The rest are pawns in the hands of the devil
I looked all around at my fellow church-goers
Of whom he spoke, I knew of more than a few
And when I turned back to allow “that could be so”
I was all alone in the next to last pew!
poem by David Whalen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Answered Prayer
i said a love prayer, but no one was there to hear
so i climbed into my bed
just so that i could rest my aching head.
i fell asleep right away
and flashes of love in my mind did play.
i saw a figure floating down to me
my eyes strained hard so that i could see.
the most beautiful sight i had ever saw
was knocking at my hearts door.
she said: you have asked for love in prayer
and you will get it- this i swear.
this love that you seek
you will see in a week.
i responded: are you an angel?
she smiled and said: how did you know!
she touched her back and
out sprouted her wings.
my eyes began to flutter
my heart began to sing.
for i had finally found
the perfect everything.
i awoke that morning wide eyed and refreshed.
and feeling at my very best.
it was sunday so to church i would go.
the church bell rang and we started inside
when i felt someone bump me on my side.
as i turned- there she was
the angel that came from above.
'i'm sorry' she said and gave me a smile.
now you can guess how this story ends.
she became my lover, confidant, wife and friend.
poem by Louis Rams
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His Church Can Rise Up
Today The Church can rise above, through God’s power and His Love.
She can rise up to the task at hand, and for The Lord can take a stand.
My friend, even in the darkest nights, we can rise up to greater heights.
For we can rise up in Christ’s Victory, as we march forward to Eternity.
Jesus Christ will build His Church, and build it upon The Savior’s worth.
She’s not built upon an earthly frame, but built upon Her Savior’s Name.
Jesus Christ the very Cornerstone, guides His Church from His Throne.
For His Church, Jesus Christ alone, is her foundation and the capstone.
He’s the Groom and we’re the Bride, and His Church will not be denied.
He’s creating a Holy Priesthood friend, of whose service will never end.
We my friends are the living stones, bought and placed by Christ alone,
We’re being built into a spiritual house, by the Church’s Eternal Spouse.
Even though darkened forces rail, the gates of Hades shall not prevail.
Christ’s Victory we can proclaim, through the power of His Holy Name.
We need to rise up above the night, and lift up high Christ’s Holy Light.
We can rise above every situation, and point the world to His salvation.
Very soon The Church will surly rise, to meet The Savior up in the skies,
Dear friend Satan is the defeated foe, and this we need to let men know.
So we need to rise up and tell all men, that Satan is the one condemned,
And when they join The Church of Christ, they too shall gain Eternal Life.
(Copyright ©04/2006)
Church
The Church is Church my brother, a place to meet with one another,
A place to meet with our Lord, where grace and mercy are implored,
That place for worship and praise, lifted up to The Ancient of Days,
Men gathering, to bring glory to, The One Who created me and you.
Church is a body of those, who know, The Lord and desire to grow,
In the knowledge of Christ our Lord, as Christ's Body in one accord,
A place to encourage others in Christ, while living in this present life,
Support, that we can only receive, from men in life who also believe.
Church is more than a gathering, of men together to praise and sing,
As it's a place to seek The Lord, who, by love makes us one accord,
As believers are in the presence of, Jesus Christ, Who reigns above,
As Christ builds us together in unity, through the power from Calvary.
The local Church is the very heart, of The Savior's mission, to impart,
The very Truth of God's Salvation, in reaching each and every nation,
The Lord scattered His early Church, for His mission of greater worth,
So that as His Church, we could herald, God's Truth into all the world.
Today's Mission, is still the same, when Believers gather in His Name,
To focus upon our Lord God first, while The Savior builds His Church,
As The Lord grants direction to, His Living Stones, that's me and you,
To finish God's purpose, through us, all, for the glory of Christ Jesus.
(Copyright ©11/2012)
Church Of Women
A lie for a lie, but a truth for the truth
Church of women is made out of milk
Which their love turns to butter -er -er
Church of women will have you give praise
With a laugh, bark and stutter -er -er
Like us men like us men they are nothing like us men
Men have gargoyles round their hearts
Im on my knees but dancing
Want to worship at the church of women
Breathe em in until my head goes spinning around
Want to worship at the church
Let me worship at the church of women
Church of women is making donations of loving and giving -ing -ing
Church of women performing that miracle raising the living -ing -ing
Like us men like us men will they ever like us men?
Men have thorns around their minds
Im on my mountain preaching
Want to worship at the church of women
Breathe em in until my head goes spinning around
Want to worship at the church
Let me worship at the church of women
Lie for a lie, but a truth for the truth
Give em back their house: the walls, the doors, the floors and roof
And stop tryin to diet on the wafers and wine and submit were in control
Now lets put things right
Lets multiply the loves and kisses
til we have enough to love and eat forever
Want to worship at the church of women
I want to worship at the church of women now
Breathe em in until my head goes spinning around
Ill breathe em in until my head goes spinning round
Want to worship at the church
Let me worship at the church of women
Want to worship at the church of women
(repeat x3 and fade)
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Searching For a Church?
After your long and weary search, have you found the perfect church?
A simple church ruled by men; the perfect church you can’t condemn.
Or do they all appear the same, just another building with His Name?
And once inside you’re not sure, if you feel the presence of The Lord.
There’s only one true Church of God, upon this earth that all men trod.
That is The Church of Jesus Christ, and bought by Jesus, with His life.
God’s Church has no denomination, for in Christ is only one Salvation.
His Church has no walls my friend; it has a beginning but has no end.
Christ’s Church began at Pentecost, not for the righteous, but the lost.
His Church is made of sinful men, whom by God were all condemned.
But redeemed with a special price, when His Son became a sacrifice.
Then dipped into a cleansing flood; sinners purified by Christ’s Blood.
Are you looking to men to find, God’s forgiveness and peace of mind?
My friend, are you truly not that sure, where you can go to be secure?
Christ’s first Church had no steeple, and was filled with humble people.
Humble people who gave their life, to reach the world for Jesus Christ.
If you’re still searching for a church, you should end your weary search.
The Church is men like you and me, saved by Christ’s work on Calvary.
Nothing’s been added to the cross, except sinners who once were lost,
Since, they’ve entered in The Door, and now belong to Christ The Lord.
(Copyright ©04/2006)
Doppelganger or Such Like.
You remind me
of my brother
the woman said
after mass
meeting you
at the back
of the church
poor guy you thought
to look like me
and then the other day
while sipping a latte
at a Nero coffee house
you saw her again
sitting in the corner
with her husband
who was reading a paper
she looked up
saw you and smiled
some essence of her youth
held in there
at least in spirit
who is that?
your son asked
a woman from church
who says I look like her brother
you said
and what does her brother
look like?
he said
me I guess
you replied
taking in the Mozart music
in the back ground
some minuet
that Judy liked
some decades ago
whom you almost
made it with
until her parents
came home
before the time
they said
and she jumping up
altering her clothes
face bright and red
the woman's husband
put down the newspaper
and sipped his espresso
giving you a nod of recognition
you the guy
whom his wife said
looked like her brother
though he saw
little likeness
save for the beard
and moustache
and that look
about the eyes
you think
taking in his expression
imagining his thought process
he taking no notice
of the Mozart minuet
or knowing Judy's
white underwear
or red dress.
poem by Terry Collett
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Ballad
Round youthful Henry's restless bed
His weeping friends and parents pressed;
But she who raised his languid head
He loved far more than all the rest.
Fond mutual love their bosoms fired;
And nearly dawned their bridal day,
When every hope at once expired,
For Henry on his death-bed lay.
The fatal truth the sufferer read
In weeping Lucy's downcast eye:
"And must I, must I, then," he said,
"Ere thou art mine, my Lucy, die!
"No,...deign to grant my last, last prayer;
'T would soothe thy lover's parting breath,
Wouldst thou with me to church repair,
Ere yet I feel the stroke of death.
"For trust me, love, I shall my life
With something like to joy resign,
If I but once may call thee wife,
And, dying, claim and hail thee mine."
He ceased: and Lucy checked the thought
That he might at the altar die,....
The prayer with such true love was fraught,
How could she such a prayer deny?
They reached the church....her cheek was wan
With chilling fears of coming woe....
But triumph when the rites began
Lent Henry's cheek a flattering glow.
The nuptial knot was scarcely tied,
When Henry's eye strange lustre fired,
"She's mine! she's mine!" he faltering cried,
And in that throb of joy expired.
poem by Amelia Opie
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Church Of Your Heart
Cant we leave the world outside
Just for a while? just for a while?
Spend some time, you and i
Under this bright glorious sky
Its been so long since I first saw you
But I still love that smile in your eyes
Yes its true, right from the start
I believed in the church of your heart
Yes its you, that make me part of
And I believe in the church of your heart
Step inside, lay yourself down
Just for a while, rest for a while
I can hear a thundering sound
Beating inside when youre around
Its been so long since I first met you
Since we made love, you know how time flies
Yes its true, right from the start
I believed in the church of your heart
Yes its you that make me be part of
And I believe in the church of your heart
In the church of your heart
Yes its true, right from the start
I believed in the church of your heart
Yes its you that make me be part of
And I believe in the church of your heart
Pretty baby its true, right from the start
I believed in the church of your heart
Yes its you that make me be part of
And I believe in the church of your heart
In the church of your heart
song performed by by Roxette
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There At The Cave Door Of The Old Church
there at the cave door of the old church
you shall enter
move farther. move some more until you reach
the dead end corner
where the windows are little squares
lighted by the small fingers of the sun
shining all day
find our some truths of squares
lights and shadows of the past of this old church
on its window and door
have you gone to the old church in Baclayon?
have you seen this old door and window?
tell me if it is true that there are no more choices
in your life.
what they are saying is not really true.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ultima Thule: Old St. David's At Radnor
What an image of peace and rest
Is this little church among its graves!
All is so quiet; the troubled breast,
The wounded spirit, the heart oppressed,
Here may find the repose it craves.
See, how the ivy climbs and expands
Over this humble hermitage,
And seems to caress with its little hands
The rough, gray stones, as a child that stands
Caressing the wrinkled cheeks of age!
You cross the threshold; and dim and small
Is the space that serves for the Shepherd's Fold;
The narrow aisle, the bare, white wall,
The pews, and the pulpit quaint and tall,
Whisper and say: 'Alas! we are old.'
Herbert's chapel at Bemerton
Hardly more spacious is than this;
But poet and pastor, blent in one,
Clothed with a splendor, as of the sun,
That lowly and holy edifice.
It is not the wall of stone without
That makes the building small or great,
But the soul's light shining round about,
And the faith that overcometh doubt,
And the love that stronger is than hate.
Were I a pilgrim in search of peace,
Were I a pastor of Holy Church,
More than a Bishop's diocese
Should I prize this place of rest and release
From further longing and further search.
Here would I stay, and let the world
With its distant thunder roar and roll;
Storms do not rend the sail that is furled;
Nor like a dead leaf, tossed and whirled
In an eddy of wind, is the anchored soul.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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We are Seven
--------A Simple Child,
That lightly draws its breath,
And feels its life in every limb,
What should it know of death?
I met a little cottage Girl:
She was eight years old, she said;
Her hair was thick with many a curl
That clustered round her head.
She had a rustic, woodland air,
And she was wildly clad:
Her eyes were fair, and very fair;
--Her beauty made me glad.
"Sisters and brothers, little Maid,
How many may you be?"
"How many? Seven in all," she said
And wondering looked at me.
"And where are they? I pray you tell."
She answered, "Seven are we;
And two of us at Conway dwell,
And two are gone to sea.
"Two of us in the church-yard lie,
My sister and my brother;
And, in the church-yard cottage, I
Dwell near them with my mother."
"You say that two at Conway dwell,
And two are gone to sea,
Yet ye are seven!--I pray you tell,
Sweet Maid, how this may be."
Then did the little Maid reply,
"Seven boys and girls are we;
Two of us in the church-yard lie,
Beneath the church-yard tree."
"You run about, my little Maid,
Your limbs they are alive;
If two are in the church-yard laid,
Then ye are only five."
"Their graves are green, they may be seen,"
The little Maid replied,
"Twelve steps or more from my mother's door,
And they are side by side.
"My stockings there I often knit,
My kerchief there I hem;
And there upon the ground I sit,
And sing a song to them.
"And often after sunset, Sir,
When it is light and fair,
I take my little porringer,
And eat my supper there.
"The first that died was sister Jane;
In bed she moaning lay,
Till God released her of her pain;
And then she went away.
"So in the church-yard she was laid;
And, when the grass was dry,
Together round her grave we played,
My brother John and I.
"And when the ground was white with snow,
And I could run and slide,
My brother John was forced to go,
And he lies by her side."
"How many are you, then," said I,
"If they two are in heaven?"
Quick was the little Maid's reply,
"O Master! we are seven."
"But they are dead; those two are dead!
Their spirits are in heaven!"
'Twas throwing words away; for still
The little Maid would have her will,
And said, "Nay, we are seven!"
poem by William Wordsworth
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Things Are Looking Up
George and ira gershwin
Things are looking up
Ive been looking the landscape over
And its covered with four leaf clover
Oh things are looking up
Since love looked up at me
Bitter was my cup
But no more will I be the mourner
For Ive certainly turned the corner
Oh things are looking up
Since love looked up at me
song performed by by Billie Holiday
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Every true prayer is a prayer of the Church; by means of that prayer the Church prays, since it is the Holy Spirit living in the Church, Who in every single soul 'prays in us with unspeakable groanings'.
quote by Edith Stein
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Old St David's at Radnor
What an image of peace and rest
Is this little church among its graves!
All is so quiet; the troubled breast,
The wounded spirit, the heart oppressed,
Here may find the repose it craves.
See, how the ivy climbs and expands
Over this humble hermitage,
And seems to caress with its little hands
The rough, gray stones, as a child that stands
Caressing the wrinkled cheeks of age!
You cross the threshold; and dim and small
Is the space that serves for the Shepherd's Fold;
The narrow aisle, the bare, white wall,
The pews, and the pulpit quaint and tall,
Whisper and say: "Alas! we are old."
Herbert's chapel at Bemerton
Hardly more spacious is than this;
But Poet and Pastor, blent in one,
Clothed with a splendor, as of the sun,
That lowly and holy edifice.
It is not the wall of stone without
That makes the building small or great
But the soul's light shining round about,
And the faith that overcometh doubt,
And the love that stronger is than hate.
Were I a pilgrim in search of peace,
Were I a pastor of Holy Church,
More than a Bishop's diocese
Should I prize this place of rest, and release
From farther longing and farther search.
Here would I stay, and let the world
With its distant thunder roar and roll;
Storms do not rend the sail that is furled;
Nor like a dead leaf, tossed and whirled
In an eddy of wind, is the anchored soul.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Judith and her Thoughts on Death
That Sunday
after singing
in the choir
and changing
from the blue
and white gowns
and out
of the dim lit vestry
into the sunlight
at the back
of the church
Judith was standing
by a gravestone
reading the almost
indecipherable words
chiselled there
sad isn't it
she said
that these people died
and are buried
and then the time comes
when you can't read
who died or when?
you walked over
to where she was standing
and rubbed off
some of the green moss
with your hand
comes to us all
I guess
you said
when those whom we loved
or cared about die
and after we and those
who knew them are gone
there is no one left to care
who's buried there
she looked at you
and you saw
her eyes water
and her lower lip tremble
you won't forget me
will you? she asked
course not
you said
anyway
why are we getting
so darn morbid?
we're alive
let's live while we can
she walked away
from the gravestone
and stood looking
around the graves
behind the church
the sunlight
warming the stone
and her head
and you walked
next to her
and put your hand
on hers and said
I'll never forget you
if you go before me
she smiled
and looked at you
I'll always remember you
she said
other choir members
came out of the vestry door
and there was talk
and laughter
and Roger chased Shirley
along the path
and she looked back at him
giggling and making faces
and Judith said
some have no respect
for the dead
even in this
their resting place
human all too human
you said
and kissed her
sun blessed face.
poem by Terry Collett
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Psalm 118
v.22-27
S. M.
An hosanna for the Lord's day; or, A new song of salvation by Christ.
See what a living stone
The builders did refuse;
Yet God hath built his church thereon,
In spite of envious Jews.
The scribe and angry priest
Reject thine only Son;
Yet on this Rock shall Zion rest,
As the chief corner-stone.
The work, O Lord, is thine,
And wondrous in our eyes;
This day declares it all divine,
This day did Jesus rise.
This is the glorious day
That our Redeemer made;
Let us rejoice, and sing, and pray,
Let all the church be glad.
Hosanna to the King
Of David's royal blood;
Bless him, ye saints, he comes to bring
Salvation from your God.
We bless thine holy word,
Which all this grace displays;
And offer on thine altar, Lord,
Our sacrifice of praise.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Little Nell
GLEAMING through the silent church-yard,
Winter sunlight seemed to shed
Golden shadows like soft blessings
O'er a quiet little bed,
Where a pale face lay unheeding
Tender tears that o'er it fell;
No sorrow now could touch the heart
Of gentle little Nell.
Ah, with what silent patient strength
The frail form lying there
Had borne its heavy load of grief,
Of loneliness and care.
Now, earthly burdens were laid down,
And on the meek young face
There shone a holier loveliness
Than childhood's simple grace.
Beset with sorrow, pain and fear,
Tempted by want and sin,
With none to guide or counsel her
But the brave child-heart within.
Strong in her fearless, faithful love,
Devoted to the last,
Unfaltering through gloom and gleam
The little wanderer passed.
Hand in hand they journeyed on
Through pathways strange and wild,
The gray-haired, feeble, sin-bowed man
Led by the noble child.
So through the world's dark ways she passed,
Till o'er the church-yard sod,
To the quiet spot where they found rest,
Those little feet had trod.
To that last resting-place on earth
Kind voices bid her come,
There her long wanderings found an end,
And weary Nell a home.
A home whose light and joy she was,
Though on her spirit lay
A solemn sense of coming change,
That deepened day by day.
There in the church-yard, tenderly,
Through quiet summer hours,
Above the poor neglected graves
She planted fragrant flowers.
The dim aisles of the ruined church
Echoed the child's light tread,
And flickering sunbeams thro' the leaves
Shone on her as she read.
And here where a holy silence dwelt,
And golden shadows fell,
When Death's mild face had looked on her,
They laid dear happy Nell.
Long had she wandered o'er the earth,
One hand to the old man given,
By the other angels led her on
Up a sunlit path to Heaven.
Oh! 'patient, loving, noble Nell,'
Like light from sunset skies,
The beauty of thy sinless life
Upon the dark world lies.
On thy sad story, gentle child,
Dim eyes will often dwell,
And loving hearts will cherish long
The memory of Nell.
poem by Louisa May Alcott
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