Mary Magdalene II
People clean their homes before the feast.
Stepping from the bustle of the street
I go down before Thee on my knees
And anoint with myrrh Thy holy feet.
Groping round, I cannot find the shoes
For the tears that well up with my sighs.
My impatient tresses, breaking loose,
Like a pall hang thick before my eyes.
I take up Thy feet onto my lap,
Wash them clean with hot tears from my eyes,
In my hair Thy precious feet I wrap,
And my string of pearls around them tie.
I now see the future in detail,
As if it were stopped in flight by Thee.
Like a raving sibyl, I could tell
What will happen, how it will all be.
In the temple, veils will fall tomorrow,
We shall form a frightened group apart,
And the earth will shake-perhaps from sorrow
And from pity for my tortured heart.
Troops will then reform and march away
To the thud of hoofs and heavy tread,
And the cross will reach towards the sky
Like a water-spout above our heads.
By the cross, I'll fall down on the ground,
I shall bite my lips till I draw blood.
On the cross, your arms will be spread out-
Wide enough to hug the whole wide world.
Who's this for, this glory and this strife?
Who's this for, this torment and this might?
Are there enough souls on earth, and lives?
Are there enough cities, dales and heights?
But three days-such days and nights will pass-
They will fill me with such crushing dread
That I'll see the joyous truth, at last:
I shall know Christ will rise from the dead.
poem by Boris Pasternak
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Poem: Song to the Holy Cross
The cross of love:
The cross I love:
The cross I'd loved all life;
The wooden cross:
The holy cross:
The cross that bore man's strife.
The oaken cross:
The heavy cross:
The cross Jesus carried;
The cross on which
Christ Lord was nailed:
And bore man's sins indeed.
The cross of death:
The blood-stained cross:
The Savior, man, redeemed;
The cross of life's
Victory o'er death:
That souls on earth must heed.
poem by John Celes
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The Holy Cross
O Holy Cross of Jesus Christ!
How must I come to Calvary?
– By giving up world’s pleasures first,
Carrying my own and follow Thee!
O Holy Cross that Christ had borne!
Take me to Heaven’s narrow gate;
Much strife my body does adorn,
My sufferings never abate!
O Holy Cross on which Christ died!
At times, in life I grow weary,
Although in God, I do abide;
With charm all lost, life seems dreary.
O Holy Cross that satan fears;
Then guide me in the way of light;
My stay on earth almost well nears;
Let Truth be always in my sight!
O Holy Cross: eternal sign;
In Jesus Christ, I trust my soul;
In Maker’s Feast, I wish to dine:
My only aim and earthly goal!
O Holy Cross that saves mankind;
Show me the dress of grace to don;
For only pure a heart and mind
Can see the face of God’s one Son!
poem by John Celes
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The Resurection
the resurection of JESUS has come into my life.
yet! what i see is different from what you might see.
he made the ultimate sacrifice for his GOD up above.
but while on this earth, he showed us his love.
look upon his face while on the cross
he was crying for humanity.
his arms outstretched to tell us the LORDS word
must be spread from one corner of the earth
to the other.
HIS feet nailed together to tell us
that we must unite as one.
the holes in his hands and feet
is the depth of his love for us.
HE showed us to believe in something
that we could not see.
that belief has come with our baptism.
and when i see CHRIST on the cross
my love deepens even more.
to see the sacrifice that he made for you and me
and through his love, he set us free.
as he was taken down from the cross
and put into the tomb.
GOD began to heal his wounds.
just as GOD took seven days to make the earth
he took three days to bring CHRIST back to us.
so we could see the love he has for you and me.
he showed the apostles and the people
who did'nt believe
that his son would live through eternity.
poem by Louis Rams
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The Iron Cross
THEY pass, with heavy eyes and hair,
Before the Christ upon the Cross,
The Nations, stricken with their loss,
And lifting faces of despair.
What is the prayer they pray to Him,
Christ Jesus on the Iron Cross?
The Christ, neglected, dark with moss,
Whose hands are pierced, whose face is grim.
Is it forgiveness for great sin
They plead before the Iron Cross?
Or for some gift of gold or dross?
Or battle lost, that they would win?
With eyes where hate and horror meet,
They pass before the Iron Cross,
The Cross, that ancient words emboss,
Where hangs the Christ with nail-pierced feet.
His hair is fallen on his face.
His head hangs sidewise from the Cross —
The Crucified, who knows all loss,
And had on Earth no resting place.
'O world of men,' he seems to say,
'Behold me on your Iron Cross!
To me why kneel and tell your loss?
Why kneel to me and weep and pray?
'Have I not taught you to forgive?
And bade you from my Iron Cross
Believe, and bear your grief and loss,
That after death you too may live?
'You have not followed at my call!
You keep me on this Iron Cross,
And pray me keep you from all loss,
And save and comfort you withal.—
'You ask for love, and hate the more! —
You keep me on this Iron Cross!—
Restore to me my greater loss,
The brotherhood of rich and poor.'
They pass, with weary eyes and hair,
Before the Christ upon the Cross —
The Nations, wailing of their loss,
And lifting faces of despair.
poem by Madison Julius Cawein
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Never Further Than Thy Cross
Never further than Thy cross,
Never higher than Thy feet;
Here earth’s precious things seem dross,
Here earth’s bitter things grow sweet.
Gazing thus our sin we see,
Learn Thy love while gazing thus,
Sin, which laid the cross on Thee,
Love, which bore the cross for us.
Here we learn to serve and give,
And, rejoicing, self deny;
Here we gather love to live,
Here we gather faith to die.
Pressing onward as we can,
Still to this our hearts must tend;
Where our earliest hopes began,
There our last aspirings end.
Till amid the hosts of light,
We in Thee redeemed, complete,
Through Thy cross made pure and white,
Cast our crowns before Thy feet.
poem by Elizabeth Rundle Charles from The Family Treasury (1860)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Easter Eve
At length the worst is o'er, and Thou art laid
Deep in Thy darksome bed;
All still and cold beneath yon dreary stone
Thy sacred form is gone;
Around those lips where power and mercy hung,
The dews of deaths have clung;
The dull earth o'er Thee, and Thy foes around,
Thou sleep'st a silent corse, in funeral fetters wound.
Sleep'st Thou indeed? or is Thy spirit fled,
At large among the dead?
Whether in Eden bowers Thy welcome voice
Wake Abraham to rejoice,
Or in some drearier scene Thine eye controls
The thronging band of souls;
That, as Thy blood won earth, Thine agony
Might set the shadowy realm from sin and sorrow free.
Where'er Thou roam'st, one happy soul, we know,
Seen at Thy side in woe,
Waits on Thy triumphs--even as all the blest
With him and Thee shall rest.
Each on his cross; by Thee we hang a while,
Watching Thy patient smile,
Till we have learned to say, "'Tis justly done,
Only in glory, LORD, Thy sinful servant own."
Soon wilt Thou take us to Thy tranquil bower
To rest one little hour,
Till Thine elect are numbered, and the grave
Call Thee to come and save:
Then on Thy bosom borne shall we descend
Again with earth to blend,
Earth all refined with bright supernal fires,
Tinctured with holy blood, and winged with pure desires.
Meanwhile with every son and saint of Thine
Along the glorious line,
Sitting by turns beneath Thy sacred feet
We'll hold communion sweet,
Know them by look and voice, and thank them all
For helping us in thrall,
For words of hope, and bright examples given
To show through moonless skies that there is light in Heaven.
O come that day, when in this restless heart
Earth shall resign her part,
When in the grave with Thee my limbs shall rest,
My soul with Thee be blest!
But stay, presumptuous--CHRIST with Thee abides
In the rock's dreary sides:
He from this stone will wring Celestial dew
If but this prisoner's heart he faithful found and true.
When tears are spent, and then art left alone
With ghosts of blessings gone,
Think thou art taken from the cross, and laid
In JESUS' burial shade;
Take Moses' rod, the rod of prayer, and call
Out of the rocky wall
The fount of holy blood; and lift on high
Thy grovelling soul that feels so desolate and dry.
Prisoner of Hope thou art--look up and sing
In hope of promised spring.
As in the pit his father's darling lay
Beside the desert way,
And knew not how, but knew his GOD would save
E'en from that living grave,
So, buried with our LORD, we'll chose our eyes
To the decaying world, till Angels bid us rise.
poem by John Keble
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Make Me Clean
To survive from day to day
I have to find a way
To put away my selfish heart
Ineglected my cross
I focused on my loss
I need a brand new start
May my timidness and shame
Become lost in your name
Make me clean, make me new
Take my cross up like you
Make me blind to all animosity around
Grant me joy with no shame
To dance at your name
With my eyes on your throne and my knees on the ground
Make me clean
You have been in my shoes
People saying you'll lose
But with joy you kept on walking
I want people to see
Your endurance in me
And a faith that's not just talking
May my timidness and shame
Become lost in your name
Make me clean, make me new
Take my cross up like you
Make me blind to all animosity around
Grant me joy with no shame
To dance at your name
With my eyes on your throne and my knees on the ground
Make me clean
Though i try and try i fail
But your joy helps me prevail
Though this tempting world distracts me
Help me refocus honestly
(And then the chorus twice)
-an original by Tabby Stott
poem by Tabby Stott
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Decreed
Into all lives some rain must fall,
Into all eyes some tear-drops start,
Whether they fall as gentle shower,
Or fall like fire from an aching heart.
Into all hearts some sorrow must creep,
Into all souls some doubtings come,
Lashing the waves of life's great deep
From dimpling waters to seething foam.
Over all paths some clouds must lower,
Under all feet some sharp thorns spring,
Tearing the flesh to bitter wounds,
Or entering the heart with their bitter sting.
Upon all brows rough winds must blow,
Over all shoulders a cross be lain,
Bowing the form in its lofty height
Down to the dust in bitter pain.
Into all hands some duty's thrust;
Unto all arms some burden's given,
Crushing the heart with its weary weight,
Or lifting the soul from earth to heaven.
Into all hearts and homes and lives
God's dear sunlight comes streaming down,
Gilding the ruins of life's great plain--
Weaving for all a golden crown.
poem by Anonymous Americas
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Mary Magdalene
While the dark night folds around me
I wait on Thee,
who could speak
and sent the storm
back into the sea.
At times I wonder where my love
for Thee started,
or was I made with it,
that Though dark brown eyes
could know the dark depths of my heart
and could touch like no other
and could heal me
and make me completely free from all sin
and I was happy.
With every stroke that the hammer makes
against the cross of wood
and every nail that tears
right through Thy body,
I knew pain
like never before
and in my soul
the dark depths died
with Thy death
At a time even my pomegranate red lips
and round full breasts
made no impression on Thee
and Thy holiness
and unconditional love
touched deep into my heart,
so that I washed Thy feet
with ointment of nard
and in humility used my hair
to dry the feet
of the Son of God.
While the morning sun
rises red on the horizon
I wait on Thee,
to come back to this earth
as king and supreme Lord.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Sonnet: God, Imprint Thy Holy Cross
Imprint Thy Holy Cross on my forehead!
And let my face look ugly to the world;
And let my life become a thorny-bed;
And let me pass my days thus God, till old.
Imprint Thy Holy Cross onto my heart!
And let my thoughts be free of sinful shade;
And let their earthly tones from them depart;
And let me spend my life thus God and fade!
Imprint Thy holy Cross onto my soul!
And let its sanctity fill up its space;
And let Thy grace guide me onto my goal;
And let me have always a Heav’nly gaze!
Imprint Thy Holy Cross all through my life!
And let me not forget it ev’n in strife.
poem by John Celes
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Pass Away
Watch the world pass away,
As time does, day to day.
Nothing changing as lives move on.
Listen to the sounds the tears make,
As they fall because of everything at stake,
Keep in mind the pain that raises those tears from sorrows eye.
Remember the voices of the people past,
The things they did, the things they said, will always last.
Broken prescripts laying against the backdropp of damp Earth.
Wrap your arms around their ghost,
For to their spirit and memory we toast,
From goblets of their sweet, sour blood we drink.
Embrace their once unreal visions,
As they are now what form our own decisions,
For their dreamed fantasies have now become the future's reality.
Drape yourself in the blanket woven by those preceding,
Lay your head upon the bed, lay, your body bleeding,
Blood of your own deception, your blank and hidden naivety.
Let your silent cries flow like water in a river of truth,
Spread the knowledge of the pasts grief and strife's to the youth,
Teach them how the lives of people have been shaped, molded by tears.
Walk through life with your head held high,
Til one day you too will fade into history and ride to the sky,
Live through what others have provided, teach, learn, and live!
Kneel before the feet of fate,
Begin the future you will create,
Becoming one who came before, another soul of time.
Carry on the weight of people gone,
Move their sight from night to dawn,
Keep them alive with the strength you hold.
Watch the world pass away,
As time does, day to day,
And slowly watch, them fade to gray.
By: Bethany Jane Maxwell
April 5th,2011
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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Jesus’ Cross
The Holy Cross beckons
To follow Jesus Christ;
The source of strength and joy
To souls, for Lord athirst!
The Holy Cross guides us
To walk upon His steps;
The Son of God had died
To save mankind from sins.
The Holy Cross reminds
To place our trust in God;
Jesus resurrected
To annul man from rod.
The Holy Cross signals
That life has crosses, woes;
Yet, we must tread fearless;
Engages God, our foes!
The Holy Cross goads us
To carry each one’s cross;
Our war with satan’s won,
By Jesus, without loss!
The Holy Cross renews
Our ties with Jesus Lord;
He will come in glory
To judge mankind by Word!
poem by John Celes
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To One in Grief
SIMON the Cyrenean bore
The Cross of Christ up Calvary Hill.
Blessed be Simon's lot before
Honour and ease and world's good-will
You,--you would choose his lot above
All gifts and glories, yea, all love!
Now when for your two glorious men
Your heart is broken, and your joy
On earth shall not be built again,--
Oh, what a lover, what a boy !--
Dear heart, look up! Who helps you on
The way that you must walk alone ?
For when the Cross that you must bear
Galls your poor shoulders till they bleed,
And when the thorns are on your hair,
And Love-lies-bleeding: then indeed
One will come stepping light and take
The tears the burden, the heart-break.
Happy is she who to Thine ears
Pours all her lamentations! Yea,
When Thou dost wipe away her tears
And healing words of comfort say.
Thou makest Thy Cross both sweet and light
For souls like hers that walk in white.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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In Joy & Sorrow
Oh girl we are the same
We are young and lost and so afraid
There? s no cure for the pain
No shelter from the rain
All our prayers seem to fail
In joy and sorrow my homes in your arms
In world so hollow
It is breaking my heart
In joy and sorrow my homes in your amrs
In world so hollow
It is breaking my heart
Oh girl we are the same
We are strong and blessed and so brave
With souls to be saved
And faith regained
All our tears wipe away
In joy and sorrow my homes in your arms
In world so hollow
It is breaking my heart
In joy and sorrow my homes in your arms
In world so hollow
It is breaking my heart
In joy and sorrow my homes in your arms
In world so hollow
It is breaking my heart
In joy and sorrow my homes in your arms
In world so hollow
It is breaking my heart
And my homes in your arms
And it is breaking my heart
My homes in your arms
And it is breaking my heart
song performed by by H.i.m. (his Infernal Majesty)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Call
1.
COME, my heart ! come, my head,
In sighs, and tears !
'Tis now, since you have lain thus dead,
Some twenty years ;
Awake, awake,
Some pity take
Upon yourselves !
Who never wake to groan, nor weep,
Shall be sentenc'd for their sleep.
2.
Do but see your sad estate,
How many sands
Have left us, while we careless sate
With folded hands ;
What stock of nights,
Of days, and years
In silent flights
Stole by our ears ;
How ill have we ourselves bestow'd,
Whose suns are all set in a cloud !
3.
Yet come, and let's peruse them all,
And as we pass,
What sins on every minute fall
Score on the glass ;
Then weigh, and rate
Their heavy state,
Until
The glass with tears you fill ;
That done, we shall be safe and good :
Those beasts were clean that chew'd the cud.
poem by Henry Vaughan
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Sonnet: The Holy Cross
O, Let me carry Thine Cross in some way!
Though weary yet, O Let me help Thee, Lord;
O, Let me share the weight of sins, I pray;
And let me show the world, Love’s Cross and word.
Thine Cross is life to sinners world-over;
Thine Cross is Light to ones blinded sans faith;
I want to live God as Thine Cross-lover!
To follow Thee, my Lord, if Thou sayeth.
O how, I wish my soles could tread Thine path;
O how, I wish my shoulders bear Thine weight!
O Let my soul be cleansed by Thine blood-bath!
Usher me Lord, before it could grow late!
O Let me Lord, prevent Thee from one fall!
O answer me Lord, hasten to my call!
poem by John Celes
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The Cross Jesus Chose
Why on the cross did Jesus choose to die such a wicked death?
And why did He say, 'It is finished' as he breathed His final breath?
How was the temple curtain from the top to the bottom totally rent?
Was Christ the true Messiah whom the Prophets said would be sent?
God's righteous wrath on the cross was really meant for you and I,
But Christ took our punishment as His Father's anger was satisfied.
Not only on the cross did Christ die in the place of you and I,
But through His Blood on the cross, in God's eyes we are justified.
Christ cried, 'It is finished' as Salvation for all was now complete.
Returning to His Glory, at His Father's right hand, He took His Seat.
Yes that day was special, as after the curtain was rent it did fall,
Jesus Christ created total access to not only one nation, but to all.
The cross has been unequaled, as it was God's Grace that they saw,
For Christ was sent for all men, to be the fulfillment of the Law.
Yes, it was The Messiah on the cross, who suffered and truly died,
But the grave could not hold him, for in three days He rose Glorified.
God also gave us two examples that day and both were at his side,
One chose to believe in Jesus while the other just mocked and died.
You can choose to simply die my friend, but you'll suffer forevermore,
Or believe like the thief my friend and live eternally with The Lord.
(Copyright © 06/2002)
Good Friday...
Behold the wood that went to make the cross
That bore the Saviour Lord, King Jesus Christ:
The holy cross at Calvary on which
Was hung, the Redeemer of mankind race!
That man was only Son of God in flesh,
Who suffered, shed His precious blood as price
For every sin of everyone on earth,
Of Adam and of Eve in lineage!
It wasn’t about the cross that Jesus bore;
It was about the One who hung on it!
He came to earth as Mary’s baby boy,
And gave to men the Good News, peace and joy!
The cross of wood assumed significance
When Jesus died upon it for our sins;
The sacrifice supreme was love of God
For creature man of clay whom He had made!
When Christ resurrected upon third day,
And won o’er death and satan for all times,
The holy cross became the weapon sole
That scares away the devils back to hell!
The cross became the symbol of Christians,
Reminding man of Salvation for all,
As Christ had paid the price on our behalf,
And turned to be the Truth, Light, Way to God!
The holy cross beckons each one of us
To take up each one’s cross and follow Christ;
It is the only hope for all mankind
As life on earth becomes so meaningful!
God’s Love was born on Christmas day as Christ!
Man’s sins nailed Him to death upon the cross!
Christ’s obeisance to Father freed mankind
If repentant, from Fiery Pit of hell!
Reflect on passions Christ had undergone,
Before He died upon the holy cross;
Follow His teachings and precepts for man;
Heaven is nigh for sinners penitent!
(22-04-11)
poem by John Celes
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Calvary
The Cross of Christ laid on the ground
And Jesus closed His eyes,
His beating heart the only sound
That He could realise...
They held Him down and nailed Him fast
As He screamed out in pain,
His blood ran cold, for now, at last,
He knew He would be slain...
The Cross of Christ was hoisted up,
With Him, the Romans' toy,
They offered Him the drug-filled cup,
Some mercy to employ...
But He refused to dull the ache,
The horror and the fear,
He knew the sacrifice to make
And kept it pure and clear...
The Cross of Christ was where He stayed,
No angels rescued Him,
They humbly watched as Christ obeyed
Before God's seraphim...
The Father stared from Heaven's Throne,
At Christ who wore a crown,
Forced there by Roman hearts of stone,
Now gambling for His gown...
The Cross of Christ was hid from sight
As God's Love looked away
And turned that sacred day to night
As He kept tears at bay...
One angel wept, then all joined in
And God wept tears as well.
This was the sacrifice for sin...
So we'd not go to Hell...
The Cross of Christ was where He died,
That place called Calvary,
That green hill far away supplied,
That haunts eternity...
That day when Mary's heartbeat stopped
In unison yet lived,
That time the Saviour's head had dropped,
With death His precious gift...
The Cross of Christ still bore His Blood,
Though Christ was in His tomb
And God observed that holy flood,
With hatred and with gloom...
Yet Christ had prayed, forgive them all,
They know not what they do...
So God sent preachers like Saint Paul,
Because Christ died... for you...
Denis Martindale, copyright, November 2010.
poem by Denis Martindale
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The Recall
I am the land of their fathers,
In me the virtue stays.
I will bring back my children,
After certain days.
Under their feet in the grasses
My clinging magic runs.
They shall return as strangers.
They shall remain as sons.
Over their heads in the branches
Of their new-bought, ancient trees,
I weave an incantation
And draw them to my knees.
Scent of smoke in the evening,
Smell of rain in the night--
The hours, the days and the seasons,
Order their souls aright,
Till I make plain the meaning
Of all my thousand years--
Till I fill their hearts with knowledge,
While I fill their eyes with tears.
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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