En.Citatepedia^®.ro

At The Gate

THE monastery towers, as pure and fair
As virgin vows, reached up white hands to Heaven;
The walls, to guard the hidden heart of prayer,
Were strong as sin, and white as sin forgiven;
And there came holy men, by world's woe driven;
And all about the gold-green meadows lay
Flower-decked, like children dear that keep May-holiday.

'Here,' said the Abbot, 'let us spend our days,
Days sweetened by the lilies of pure prayer,
Hung with white garlands of the rose of praise;
And, lest the World should enter with her snare--
Enter and laugh and take us unaware
With her red rose, her purple and her gold--
Choose we a stranger's hand the porter's keys to hold.'

They chose a beggar from the world outside
To keep their worldward door for them, and he,
Filled with a humble and adoring pride,
Built up a wall of proud humility
Between the monastery's sanctity
And the poor, foolish, humble folk who came
To ask for love and care, in the dear Saviour's name.

For when the poor crept to the guarded gate
To ask for succour, when the tired asked rest,
When weary souls, bereft and desolate,
Craved comfort, when the murmur of the oppressed
Surged round the grove where prayer had made her nest,
The porter bade such take their griefs away,
And at some other door their bane and burden lay.

'For this,' he said, 'is the white house of prayer,
Where day and night the holy voices rise
Through the chill trouble of our earthly air,
And enter at the gate of Paradise.
Trample no more our flower-fields in such wise,
Nor crave the alms of our deep-laden bough;
The prayers of holy men are alms enough, I trow.'

So, seeing that no sick or sorrowing folk
Came ever to be healed or comforted,
The Abbot to his brothers gladly spoke:
'God has accepted our poor prayers,' he said;
'Over our land His answering smile is spread.
He has put forth His strong and loving hand,
And sorrow and sin and pain have ceased in all the land.

'So make we yet more rich our hymns of praise,
Warm we our prayers against our happy heart.
Since God hath taken the gift of all our days
To make a spell that bids all wrong depart,
Has turned our praise to balm for the world's smart,
Fulfilled of prayer and praise be every hour,
For God transfigures praise, and transmutes prayer, to power.'

So went the years. The flowers blossomed now
Untrampled by the dusty, weary feet;
Unbroken hung the green and golden bough,
For none came now to ask for fruit or meat,
For ghostly food, or common bread to eat;
And dreaming, praying, the monks were satisfied,
Till, God remembering him, the beggar-porter died.

When they had covered up the foolish head,
And on the foolish loving heart heaped clay,
'Which of us, brothers, now,' the Abbot said,
'Will face the world, to keep the world away?'
But all their hearts were hard with prayer, and 'Nay,'
They cried, 'ah, bid us not our prayers to leave;
Ah, father, not to-day, for this is Easter Eve'.

And, while they murmured, to their midst there came
A beggar saying, 'Brothers, peace, be still!
I am your Brother, in our Father's name,
And I will be your porter, if ye will,
Guarding your gate with what I have of skill'.
So all they welcomed him and closed the door,
And gat them gladly back unto their prayers once more.

But, lo! no sooner did the prayer arise,
A golden flame athwart the chancel dim,
Then came the porter crying, 'Haste, arise!
A sick old man waits you to tend on him;
And many wait--a knight whose wound gapes grim,
A red-stained man, with red sins to confess,
A mother pale, who brings her child for you to bless'.

The brothers hastened to the gate, and there
With unaccustomed hand and voice they tried
To ease the body's pain, the spirit's care;
But ere the task was done, the porter cried:
'Behold, the Lord sets your gate open wide,
For here be starving folk who must be fed,
And little ones that cry for love and daily bread!'

And, with each slow-foot hour, came ever a throng
Of piteous wanderers, sinful folk and sad,
And still the brothers ministered, but long
The day seemed, with no prayer to make them glad;
No holy, meditative joys they had,
No moment's brooding-place could poor prayer find,
Mid all those heart to heal and all those wounds to bind.

And when the crowded, sunlit day at last
Left the field lonely with its trampled flowers,
Into the chapel's peace the brothers passed
To quell the memory of those hurrying hours.
'Our holy time,' they said, 'once more is ours!
Come, let us pay our debt of prayer and praise,
Forgetting in God's light the darkness of man's ways!'

But, ere their voices reached the first psalm's end,
They heard a new, strange rustling round their house;
Then came the porter: 'Here comes many a friend,
Pushing aside your budding orchard boughs;
Come, brothers, justify your holy vows.
Here be God's patient, poor, four-footed things
Seek healing at God's well, whence loving-kindness springs.'

Then cried the Abbot in a vexed amaze,
'Our brethren we must aid, if 'tis God's will;
But the wild creatures of the forest ways
Himself God heals with His Almighty skill.
And charity is good, and love--but still
God shall not look in vain for the white prayers
We send on silver feet to climb the starry stairs;

'For, of all worthy things, prayer has most worth,
It rises like sweet incense up to heaven,
And from God's hand falls back upon the earth,
Being of heavenly bread the accepted leaven.
Through prayer is virtue saved and sin forgiven;
In prayer the impulse and the force are found
That bring in purple and gold the fruitful seasons round.

'For prayer comes down from heaven in the sun
That giveth life and joy to all things made;
Prayer falls in rain to make broad rivers run
And quickens the seeds in earth's brown bosom laid;
By prayer the red-hung branch is earthward weighed,
By prayer the barn grows full, and full the fold,
For by man's prayer God works his wonders manifold.'

The porter seemed to bow to the reproof;
But when the echo of the night's last prayer
Died in the mystery of the vaulted roof,
A whispered memory in the hallowed air,
The Abbot turned to find him standing there.
'Brother,' he said, 'I have healed the woodland things
And they go happy and whole--blessing Love's ministerings,

'And, having healed them, I shall crave your leave
To leave you--for to-night I journey far.
But I have kept your gate this Easter Eve,
And now your house to heaven shines like a star
To show the Angels where God's children are;
And in this day your house has served God more
Than in the praise and prayer of all its years before.

'Yet I must leave you, though I fain would stay,
For there are other gates I go to keep
Of houses round whose walls, long day by day,
Shut out of hope and love, poor sinners weep--
Barred folds that keep out God's poor wandering sheep--
I must teach these that gates where God comes in
Must not be shut at all to pain, or want, or sin.

'The voice of prayer is very soft and weak,
And sorrow and sin have voices very strong;
Prayer is not heard in heaven when those twain speak,
The voice of prayer faints in the voice of wrong
By the just man endured--oh, Lord, how long?--
If ye would have your prayers in heaven be heard,
Look that wrong clamour not with too intense a word.

'But when true love is shed on want and sin,
Their cry is changed, and grows to such a voice
As clamours sweetly at heaven to be let in--
Such sound as makes the saints in heaven rejoice;
Pure gold of prayer, purged of the vain alloys
Of idleness--that is the sound most dear
Of all the earthly sounds God leans from heaven to hear.

'Oh, brother, I must leave thee, and for me
The work is heavy, and the burden great.
Thine be this charge I lay upon thee: See
That never again stands barred thy abbey gate;
Look that God's poor be not left desolate;
Ah me! that chidden my shepherds needs must be
When my poor wandering sheep have so great need of me.

'Brother, forgive thy Brother if he chide,
Thy Brother loves thee--and has loved--for see
The nails are in my hands, and in my side
The spear-wound; and the thorns weigh heavily
Upon my brow--brother, I died for thee--
For thee, and for my sheep that are astray,
And rose to live for thee, and them, on Easter Day!'

'My Master and my Lord!' the Abbot cried.
But, where that face had been, shone the new day;
Only on the marble by the Abbot's side,
Where those dear feet had stood, a lily lay--
A lily white for the white Easter Day.
He sought the gate--no sorrow clamoured there--
And, not till then, he dared to sink his soul in prayer.

And from that day himself he kept the gate
Wide open; and the poor from far and wide,
The weary, and wicked, and disconsolate,
Came there for succour and were not denied;
The sick were healed, the repentant sanctified;
And from their hearts rises more prayer and praise
Than ever the abbey knew in all its prayer-filled days.

And there the Heavenly vision comes no more,
Only, each Easter now, a lily sweet
Lies white and dewy on the chancel floor
Where once had stood the beloved wounded feet;
And the old Abbot feels the nearing beat
Of wings that bring him leave at last to go
And meet his Master, where the immortal lilies grow.

poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

This Is My Prayer For You

Peaceful valleys, mountaintops
No dark alleys, or sudden stops
This is my prayer
This is my prayer for you
Love is calling, starry skies
Always falling, but not for lies
This is my prayer
This is my prayer for you

Chorus:
May all your sweet dreams go unbroken
May every wish youve ever spoken
Come true
This is my prayer
This is my prayer for you

Celebrations, true blue friends
Revelations, and a heart that mends
This is my prayer
This is my prayer for you

Repeat chorus

Arms that welcome, doors opened wide
All your loved ones, gathered by your side
This is my prayer
This is my prayer for you
May all your days be filled with laughter
May all your prayers be quickly answered
This is my prayer
This is my prayer for you

song performed by by Reba Mcentire, music by Tony Arata, Gary Scruggs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy! | In Romanian

Prayer

In my perfect world
Theres no need to right the wronged
Laid down my burden
I know I did not carry the weight
Not sure to who responsibility belonged
I turned a blind eye
While waiting for the hand of fate to still the waters
Heal all the broken hearts
And hope it could be done without a sacrifice
And maybe I just wouldnt pay the price
Ive fought this long enough
Now I send the prayer to heaven for the chance to be
A better man than the man I see
I send the prayer to heaven, lay your hands on me
I aint a saint but to this I swear I send the prayer
And now I feel all I can do is not enough
My rome is burning and Im standing at the deep abyss
But every passion started with an act of love
And every act of love, started with a single kiss
Father, father your gift was my world of light
And Ive betrayed you with a single judas kiss
Ive been my own executioner
But its not just me anymore
Now I send the prayer to heaven for the chance to be
A better man than the man I see
I send the prayer to heaven, lay your hands on me
I aint a saint but to this I swear
Burn my wasted pride
Open your heart to this
Theres a voice thats crying somewhere
Deep inside my soul for shelter
Now I send the prayer to heaven for the chance to be
A better man than the man I see
I send the prayer to heaven, lay your hands on me
I aint a saint but to this I swear
Now I send the prayer to heaven for the chance to be
A better man than the man I see
I send the prayer to heaven, lay your hands on me
I aint a saint but to this I swear I send the prayer...
Now I send a prayer to heaven...

song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Sonnet: On Prayer

The pow’r of prayer can astonish you;
Through prayer, we can speak to God each day.
There isn’t a thing that prayer cannot do!
A miracle can happen, if you pray.

A prayer ought to come deep from your heart;
God hears your prayer if you can just kneel;
Saying a prayer is a faithful’s art!
A prayer must be fervent in appeal.

God answers prayers said by righteous souls;
Through Mary, we can win favors from God;
A hymn of praise or thanksgiving has roles;
When more than two can pray, God will reward.

A prayer can change fate of sinners all;
A prayer breaks sin’s invisible wall!

Copyright by Dr John Celes 2-3-2008

poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Abbot Of Innisfallen

The Abbot of Innisfallen
awoke ere dawn of day;
Under the dewy green leaves
went he forth to pray.
The lake around his island
lay smooth and dark and deep,
And wrapt in a misty stillness
the mountains were all asleep.
Low kneel'd the Abbot Cormac
when the dawn was dim and gray;
The prayers of his holy office
he faithfully 'gan say.
Low kneel'd the Abbot Cormac
while the dawn was waxing red;
And for his sins' forgiveness
a solemn prayer he said:
Low kneel'd that holy Abbot
while the dawn was waxing clear;
And he pray'd with loving-kindness
for his convent-brethren dear.
Low kneel'd that blessed Abbot
while the dawn was waxing bright;
He pray'd a great prayer for Ireland,
he pray'd with all his might.
Low kneel'd that good old Father
while the sun began to dart;
He pray'd a prayer for all men,
he pray'd it from his heart.
His blissful soul was in Heaven,
tho' a breathing man was he;
He was out of time's dominion,
so far as the living may be.

The Abbot of Innisfallen
arose upon his feet;
He heard a small bird singing,
and O but it sung sweet!
It sung upon a holly-bush,
this little snow-white bird;
A song so full of gladness
he never before had heard.
It sung upon a hazel,
it sung upon a thorn;
He had never heard such music
since the hour that he was born.
It sung upon a sycamore,
it sung upon a briar;
To follow the song and hearken
this Abbot could never tire.
Till at last he well bethought him;
he might no longer stay;
So he bless'd the little white singing-bird,
and gladly went his way.

But, when he came to his Abbey,
he found a wondrous change;
He saw no friendly faces there,
for every face was strange.
The strange men spoke unto him;
and he heard from all and each
The foreign tongue of the Sassenach,
not wholesome Irish speech.
Then the oldest monk came forward,
in Irish tongue spake he:
'Thou wearest the holy Augustine's dress,
and who hath given it to thee?'
'I wear the Augustine's dress,
and Cormac is my name,
The Abbot of this good Abbey
by grace of God I am.
I went forth to pray, at the dawn of day;
and when my prayers were said,
I hearken'd awhile to a little bird,
that sung above my head.'
The monks to him made answer,
'Two hundred years have gone o'er,
Since our Abbot Cormac went through the gate,
and never was heard of more.
Matthias now is our Abbot,
and twenty have pass'd away.
The stranger is lord of Ireland;
we live in an evil day.'
'Days will come and go,' he said,
'and the world will pass away,
In Heaven a day is a thousand years,
a thousand years are a day.'
'Now give me absolution;
for my time is come,' said he.
And they gave him absolution,
as speedily as might be.
Then, close outside the window,
the sweetest song they heard
That ever yet since the world began
was utter'd by any bird.
The monks look'd out and saw the bird,
its feathers all white and clean;
And there in a moment, beside it,
another white bird was seen.
Those two they sang together,
waved their white wings, and fled;
Flew aloft, and vanish'd;
but the good old man was dead.
They buried his blessed body
where lake and green-sward meet;
A carven cross above his head,
a holly-bush at his feet;
Where spreads the beautiful water
to gay or cloudy skies,
And the purple peaks of Killarney
from ancient woods arise.

poem by William Allingham
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Prayer For Peace

We got something don't you know it's true?
We got something don't feel it too?
We got something, we got something to do
Not a mushy line that I'm pushing on you
Just another blue-note sung slightly out of tune
We got something, we got something to do
Prayer for peace, prayer for peace
Prayer for peace.
It may appear that we've been sleeping through our years
And we've been living in an imaginary world
But we know what
We know what we got
And if the choice was your of love eternally
Or destruction of the world by some atomic energy
The you'd know what
You know what we got
Prayer for peace, prayer for peace
Prayer for peace. (repeat)
We got got got, we got got got, we got we got something
We got we got got got, we got got got, we got we got something
Prayer for peace, prayer for peace
Prayer for peace. (repeat)

song performed by by X-Ray Spex
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Prayer For Peace

We got something don't you know it's true?
We got something don't feel it too?
We got something, we got something to do
Not a mushy line that I'm pushing on you
Just another blue-note sung slightly out of tune
We got something, we got something to do
Prayer for peace, prayer for peace
Prayer for peace.
It may appear that we've been sleeping through our years
And we've been living in an imaginary world
But we know what
We know what we got
And if the choice was your of love eternally
Or destruction of the world by some atomic energy
The you'd know what
You know what we got
Prayer for peace, prayer for peace
Prayer for peace. (repeat)
We got got got, we got got got, we got we got something
We got we got got got, we got got got, we got we got something
Prayer for peace, prayer for peace
Prayer for peace. (repeat)

song performed by by X-Ray Spex
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Prayer Changes

Somebody just look back over your life and
See where he brought you from
How many of you know?
Prayer changes (I heard that)
Prayer changes (I believe that)
Prayer changes (I know that)
Prayer changes things
Prayer changes (I heard that)
Prayer changes (I believe that)
Prayer changes (I know that)
Prayer changes things
Now I was in a real bad abusive relationship
Knowing that that was no way for me to live
A young girl like me, raised up in a good family
Way too young to endure such misery
And every night I cry myself to sleep from all the pain
And the more I prayed for sunny days it seemed to rain
(He'd hit me) at any given time
(He'd hit me) no reason at all
(He'd hit me) so, so hard
(He'd hit me) my God, sometimes I'd fall
Mama asked what happened to me
And I'd take up for him
She said the devil's a liar
And prayed God get rid of him
And now I'm going to school
Hitting those books I'm doing fine
He's out my life I'm not confused
Got peace of mind man I tell you
Prayer changes (it changes)
Prayer changes (oh it changes)
Prayer changes (I'm a witness)
Prayer changes things (said I know)
Prayer changes (it changes)
Prayer changes (it changes)
Prayer changes (I'm a living witness)
Prayer changes things
I was a freshman in college and uh...
I had just made it on the basketball team (yeah)
I had all the skills it took to make it
But on my grades I would get nothing but all D's (whoa-ah)
And the coach came to me
And had a talk with me about my career
Said if you don't get your grades up
I'm gonna have to sit you down this year
Man as tough as I was I'd break down and cried
'Cause everybody knows me
Knows that basketball is my life
(Algebra) I studied hard
(Chemistry) I gave my all
(Calculus) oh my God
(English) so many flaws
Playing ball didn't look to good for me (yeah)
My future, could not see (ooh)
I had lost all my beliefs (uh-huh)
And gave up on all my dreams (ooh yeah)
Then I went to church on Sunday (ooh-ooh)
And the pastor began to preach (yeah)
It was like he was talking to me (ohh)
When he said I can do all things (whoo-hoo)
In Christ that strengthens me (ooh-whoo)
And for me that was enough (ohh)
Now that I went from a D
All the way to an A plus
I tell you prayer changes things
Prayer changes
Prayer changes (prayer)
Prayer changes (it changes things, yeah)
Prayer changes things (ohh)
Prayer changes (said it changes things)
Prayer changes
Prayer changes (I'm a living witness that)
Prayer changes things
Me and my wife (yeah) had a few problems
We thought that nothing could solve 'em
Listening to family members (whoa) and so called friends
Man I tell you that's just how the devil creeps in (oh yes it is)
We were separated at least for a month or two (mmm-hmm)
She was wilding in the clubs
And I was out there doing wrong too (whoa-oh)
And we would walk around the house (yeah)
Putting each other down (yeah)
I mean right in front of the kids (yeah)
We would curse each other out (mmm)
Then I was in a bad accident (yeah)
And almost lost my life (yeah)
And guess who was there for me...
My wife
Now ain't it funny how He makes a way (yeah)
When we said there was no way (yeah)
I'm out the hospital and back at home
Planning another wedding day, I tell you
Prayer changes (it changes)
Prayer changes (prayer changes)
Prayer changes (prayer changes)
Prayer changes things (things, I'm a witness that)
Prayer changes (change)
Prayer changes (prayer)
Prayer changes (changes)
Prayer changes things
Now all of these things were happening in one family (yeah)
But that's okay, cause there's nothing God can't achieve (mmm-hmm)
I don't care what the problem in your life may be
'Cause who the Son sets free, is free indeed (oh)
And if you didn't know, now you should know (yeah, what)
All you have to do is take this family life for example
Now Mum and Dad are married again
Like four kids now, 'cause they just had twins (thank you)
Little sister all grown up now (yeah)
She's a lawyer, married with one child now
Two years, big brother's out of college (thank you)
And man he's got his hands full (hallelujah)
Blessed with skills, blessed with knowledge (hey)
Now he's playing for the Chicago Bulls
Prayer changes (Im a witness)
Prayer changes (prayer changes yeah)
Prayer changes (prayer changes)
Prayer changes things (whoa when it looks like)
Prayer changes (you can't make it at all)
Prayer changes (I know that prayer)
Prayer changes (changes things)
Prayer changes things (changes things)
Prayer changes (in the middle of the storm) (oh yeah)
Prayer changes (prayer will calm) (yeah)
Prayer changes ('cause it changes things)
Prayer changes things (yeah)
Prayer changes (prayer changes) (yes it does)
Prayer changes (prayer changes) (mmm)
Prayer changes (prayer changes things)
Prayer changes things (whoa)
Prayer changes (even if you're doing wrong) (yeah)
Prayer changes (or your money's gone) (oh)
Prayer changes (if you're put out your home)
Prayer changes things (yeah)
Prayer changes (if you can't find a friend) (a friend)
Prayer changes (at your journey's end) (oh)
Prayer changes (seems you just can't win)
Prayer changes things (whoa)
Prayer changes (you're really going through) (hey)
Prayer changes (and trouble's chasing you) (hey-hey)
Prayer changes (Heaven's got a hold on you)
Prayer changes things (yeah)
Prayer changes (when it seems you can't go on) (ohh)
Prayer changes (and all your strength is gone) (yeah)
Prayer changes (hold on it wont be long) (whoa)
Prayer changes things (I know prayer is gonna change)
Prayer changes (drinking or doing drugs) (hey)
Prayer changes (even if you're running the streets) (hey-hey)
Prayer changes (if in the music field)
Prayer changes things (rock, pop or R&B) (hey)
Prayer changes (prayer will change it) (hey)
Prayer changes (prayer will change it) (hey)
Prayer changes (prayer will change it) (yes it will)
Prayer changes things (prayer will change it) (hey)
Prayer changes (said I'm a living witness that) (prayer will)
Prayer changes (prayer will change it) (yes it will)
Prayer changes (it don't matter what)
Prayer changes things (you're going through)

song performed by by R. Kelly
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Prayer Is the Soul's Sincere Desire

Prayer is the soul’s sincere desire,
Unuttered or expressed;
The motion of a hidden fire
That trembles in the breast.

Prayer is the burden of a sigh,
The falling of a tear
The upward glancing of an eye,
When none but God is near.

Prayer is the simplest form of speech
That infant lips can try;
The upward glancing of an eye,
When none but God is near.

Prayer is the Christian’s vital breath,
The Christian’s native air,
His watchword at the gates of death;
He enters heaven with prayer.

O Thou, by Whom we come to God,
The Life, the Truth, the Way;
The path of prayer Thyself hast trod:
Lord, teach us how to pray!

Prayer is the contrite sinner’s voice,
Returning from his ways,
While angels in their songs rejoice
And cry, “Behold, he prays!”

The saints in prayer appear as one
In word, in deed, and mind,
While with the Father and the Son
Sweet fellowship they find.

No prayer is made by man alone
The Holy Spirit pleads,
And Jesus, on th’eternal throne,
For sinners intercedes.

O Thou by Whom we come to God,
The Life, the Truth, the Way,
The path of prayer Thyself hast trod:
Lord, teach us how to pray.

poem by James Montgomery
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Dust And Sand

My prayer is for a better world,
where love reigns strong and all is peace.
One that is full of goodly acts,
and happiness can but increase.

My prayer is that mankind will care,
for this our earthly dwelling place.
To not abuse God’s precious gift,
of treasures, from his holy grace.

My prayer’s that hate will disappear,
and harmony in friendships grow.
To show the Lord we value life,
and that we trust his way to go.

My prayer is that we all can do,
the things needed to save our land.
For if we don’t, then there will be
no home, for man, just dust and sand.

poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Prayer is Life

Prayer is life,
Life is prayer,
Prayer gives me strength,
Strength to face
All the problems
Of this world.
Prayer brightens my day,
It gives me sound sleep at night.
I abide in My Saviour,
And humbly I rest.

Prayer makes me strong
To defeat Satan.
Prayer continues unceasingly,
It does not stop
In the morning or at noon.
It goes on and on,
Until sleep shuts my eyes.
O, that blessed life
Of prayer,
I long for the
Sweet life.

poem by Aleyamma Jacob
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

In The Solitude Of Prayer

In the solitude of prayer
deep
Lost in moments in between weep
and sleep

In the solitude of prayer
Lonliness finds a rest
Survived another test
Brings out our best

In the solitude of prayer
With nobody there
Except those far away
Reminded of their distant care

In the solitude of prayer
You pray for their smile
For their personal trial
Silently, all the while

In the solitude of prayer
Dreams seem more near
More hope than fear
Thoughts of those past those dear

In the solitude of prayer
Pray for their souls kind
Whose memory is still in your mind
And in your heart

In the solitude of prayer
Pray for your dear friends
Whose heart's you defend
As your own heart they mend

In the solitude of prayer
As for God's wisdom
And his love
As all love comes from above

In the solitude of prayer
Find grace to forgive
And to truely give
And to live

In the solitude of prayer
Recall how to dream
Of warm embraces of affection
And of love returned in your direction

In the solitude of prayer
Pray with conviction
Pray for the impossible
Without fear or restriction

poem by James T. Adair
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Prayer For You

All I see is the truth now
Thats all I want you to know
That Ill never turn my back on you
And leave you out there on your own
I could never hide my feelings
I could never let you fall
And I want you to remember
All the love that Ive found
Oh, I say a prayer
A prayer for you
Oh, for you
I could never make a promise
Id only break it in the end
Then youre looking for the answers
Youd never trust in me again
I could never watch you suffer
I could never let you down
And I hope you soon discover
All the truth that Ive now found
Oh, I say a prayer
A prayer for you
Oh, for you
Oh, I say a prayer
A prayer for you
Oh, for you

song performed by by Texas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Prayer For You

All I see is the truth now
Thats all I want you to know
That Ill never turn my back on you
And leave you out there on your own
I could never hide my feelings
I could never let you fall
And I want you to remember
All the love that Ive found
Oh, I say a prayer
A prayer for you
Oh, for you
I could never make a promise
Id only break it in the end
Then youre looking for the answers
Youd never trust in me again
I could never watch you suffer
I could never let you down
And I hope you soon discover
All the truth that Ive now found
Oh, I say a prayer
A prayer for you
Oh, for you
Oh, I say a prayer
A prayer for you
Oh, for you

song performed by by Texas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

I Said a Prayer

I said a prayer 08/27/07
I looked towards the sky and what did I see?
A prayer building up inside of me.
A prayer so great, which I could not control.
A prayer, which came from the inner soul.
I looked at all the beauties that GOD had created.
Things and feelings that can be related.
The beauty of a sunset-with the colors all aglow.
Which is a wonder to behold.
The rising of the sun for a brand new day.
Colors of perfection in every way.
The grass and trees ever so green
It is a sight to be seen.
The sounds of children’s voices as they play.
They don’t know what hate is-so let’s keep it that way.
Let’s teach them to follow GODS simple rule.
Live and love- this is his tool.
So this is my prayer! I have no other.
Let us become sister and brother.

poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

0369 Prayer. To Mike, who asked.

Simplest prayer, soonest answered,
so it’s said; so let us be as little children
(themselves an answered prayer..?)
and ask the simplest questions -

how? whom to? for what? and will we get
what we are asking for? promise?
suppose He or She or It thinks, (if They think anyway..)
that’s it’s a silly thing to ask for,
or just a bit too ‘me’ and greedy,
will they say no? will they let us know
somehow, that’s it’s no?

or will our justice be
to get what we think we want
until the day we wish we hadn’t asked for it?
or is it like the tale of the three wishes,
everything turned to gold – including us! …
another wish, please cancel; then
the last and sensible small wish, which may even
include the welfare of all others too?

Some say the commonest of prayers
amounts to, please God, let two and two
please equal five…that prayers may only ask
what may be within the domain of the law
of our Creation; some even say that, given this,
we’ll always get what we wish for – eventually;
but that by some mighty, unalterable law,
as with the fairies gathered around
Sleeping Beauty’s cradle, as the Fates,
along with what we asked for, comes
a something else for which we didn’t ask…

others say that there’s no difference
between the meaning of a prayer, and praise;
that in our praise, our prayer is surely shaped
and those who do not think to praise
may never know, to whom to pray,
or ever truly know, for what…

and others of a theologic mind
pray to be taught, for what to pray…
or instead of prayer, to learn to willingly accept
all that befalls them, as the gift of all
that they might pray for, for their good of soul…

*

all this is for considering; but I suggest
that in the depths of grief, or heights of joy, we know
the place where prayer may arise:
so deep within ourselves, that it’s beyond
the asking or the answering; a place so deep
that there, our soul rests in peace,
all questions meet all answers,
and all desires are satisfied;
there is no loss,
and nothing lacks;
we are – ourselves; ourself; at peace;
and for that, we may surely pray.

poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Singing Of The Magnificat

A LEGEND

IN midst of wide green pasture-lands, cut through
By lines of alders bordering deep-banked streams,
Where bulrushes and yellow iris grew,
And rest and peace, and all the flowers of dreams,
The Abbey stood--so still, it seemed a part
Of the marsh-country's almost pulseless heart.

Where grey-green willows fringed the stream and pool,
The lazy meek-faced cattle strayed to graze,
Sheep in the meadows cropped the grasses cool,
And silver fish shone through the watery ways,
And many a load of fruit and load of corn
Into the Abbey storehouses was borne.

Yet though so much they had of life's good things,
The monks but held them as a sacred trust,
Lent from the storehouse of the King of kings
Till they, His stewards, should crumble back to dust.
'Not as our own,' they said, 'but as the Lord's,
All that the stream yields, or the land affords.'

And all the villages and hamlets near
Knew the monks' wealth, and how their wealth was spent.
In tribulation, sickness, want, or fear,
First to the Abbey all the peasants went,
Certain to find a welcome, and to be
Helped in the hour of their extremity.

When plague or sickness smote the people sore,
The Brothers prayed beside the dying bed,
And nursed the sick back into health once more,
And through the horror and the danger said:
'How good is God, Who has such love for us,
He lets us tend His suffering children thus!'

They in their simple ways and works were glad:
Yet all men must have sorrows of their own.
And so a bitter grief the Brothers had,
Nor mourned for others' heaviness alone.
This was the secret of their sorrowing,
That not a monk in all the house could sing!

Was it the damp air from the lovely marsh,
Or strain of scarcely intermitted prayer,
That made their voices, when they sang, as harsh
As any frog's that croaks in evening air--
That made less music in their hymns to lie
Than in the hoarsest wild-fowl's hoarsest cry?

If love could sweeten voice to sing a song,
Theirs had been sweetest song was ever sung:
But their hearts' music reached their lips all wrong,
The soul's intent foiled by the traitorous tongue
That marred the chapel's peace, and seemed to scare
The rapt devotion lingering in the air.

The birds that in the chapel built their nests,
And in the stone-work found their small lives fair,
Flew thence with hurled wings and fluttering breasts
When rang the bell to call the monks to prayer.
'Why will they sing,' they twittered, 'why at all?
In heaven their silence must be festival!'

The brothers prayed with penance and with tears
That God would let them give some little part
Out for the solace of their own sad ears
Of all the music crowded in their heart.
Their nature and the marsh-air had their way,
And still they sang more vilely every day.

And all their prayers and fasts availing not
To give them voices sweet, their souls' desire,
The Abbot said, 'Gifts He did not allot
God at our hands will not again require;
The love He gives us He will ask again
In love to Him and to our fellow-men.

'Praise Him we must, and since we cannot praise
As we would choose, we praise Him as we can.
In heaven we shall be taught the angels' ways
Of singing--we afford to wait a span.
In singing, as in toil, do ye your best;
God will adjust the balance--do the rest!'

But one good Brother, anxious to remove
This, the reproach now laid on them so long,
Rejected counsel, and for very love
Besought a Brother, skilled in art of song,
To come to them--his cloister far to leave--
And sing Magnificat on Christmas Eve.

So when each brown monk duly sought his place,
By two and two, slow pacing to the choir,
Shrined in his dark oak stall, the strange monk's face
Shone with a light as of devotion's fire,
Good, young and fair, his seemed a form wherein
Pure beauty left no room at all for sin.

And when the time for singing it had come,
'Magnificat,' face raised, and voice, he sang:
Each in his stall the monks stood glad and dumb,
As through the chancel's dusk his voice outrang,
Pure, clear, and perfect--as the thrushes sing
Their first impulsive welcome of the spring.

At the first notes the Abbot's heart spoke low:
'Oh God, accept this singing, seeing we,
Had we the power, would ever praise Thee so--
Would ever, Lord, Thou know'st, sing thus for Thee;
Thus in our hearts Thy hymns are ever sung,
As he Thou blessest sings them with his tongue.'

But as the voice rose higher, and more sweet,
The Abbot's heart said, 'Thou hast heard us grieve,
And sent an angel from beside Thy feet,
To sing Magnificat on Christmas Eve;
To ease our ache of soul, and let us see
How we some day in heaven shall sing to Thee.'

Through the cold Christmas night the hymn rang out,
In perfect cadence, clear as sunlit rain--
Such heavenly music that the birds without
Beat their warm wings against the window pane,
Scattering the frosted crystal snow outspread
Upon the stone-lace and the window-lead.

The white moon through the window seemed to gaze
On the pure face and eyes the singer raised;
The storm-wind hushed the clamour of its ways,
God seemed to stoop to hear Himself thus praised,
And breathless all the Brothers stood, and still
Reached longing souls out to the music's thrill.

Old years came back, and half-remembered hours,
Dreams of delight that never was to be,
Mothers' remembered kiss, the funeral flowers
Laid on the grave of life's felicity;
An infinite dear passion of regret
Swept through their hearts, and left their eyelids wet.

The birds beat ever at the window, till
They broke the pane, and so could entrance win;
Their slender feet clung to the window-sill,
And though with them the bitter air came in,
The monks were glad that the birds too should hear,
Since to God's creatures all, His praise is dear.

The lovely music waxed and waned, and sank,
And brought less conscious sadness in its train,
Unrecognised despair that thinks to thank
God for a joy renounced, a chosen pain--
And deems that peace which is but stifled life
Dulled by a too-prolonged unfruitful strife.

When, service done, the Brothers gathered round
To thank the singer--modest-eyed, said he:
'Not mine the grace, if grace indeed abound;
God gave the power, if any power there be;
If I in hymn or psalm clear voice can raise,
As His the gift, so His be all the praise!'

That night--the Abbot lying on his bed--
A sudden flood of radiance on him fell,
Poured from the crucifix above his head,
And cast a stream of light across his cell--
And in the fullest fervour of the light
An Angel stood, glittering, and great, and white.

His wings of thousand rainbow clouds seemed made,
A thousand lamps of love shone in his eyes,
The light of dawn upon his brows was laid,
Odours of thousand flowers of Paradise
Filled all the cell, and through the heart there stirred
A sense of music that could not be heard.

The Angel spoke--his voice was low and sweet
As the sea's murmur on low-lying shore--
Or whisper of the wind in ripened wheat:
'Brother,' he said, 'the God we both adore
Has sent me down to ask, is all not right?--
Why was Magnificat not sung to-night?'

Tranced in the joy the Angel's presence brought,
The Abbot answered: 'All these weary years
We have sung our best--but always have we thought
Our voices were unworthy heavenly ears;
And so to-night we found a clearer tongue,
And by it the Magnificat was sung.'

The Angel answered, 'All these happy years
In heaven has your Magnificat been heard;
This night alone, the angels' listening ears
Of all its music caught no single word.
Say, who is he whose goodness is not strong
Enough to bear the burden of his song?'

The Abbot named his name. 'Ah, why,' he cried,
'Have angels heard not what we found so dear?'
'Only pure hearts,' the Angel's voice replied,
'Can carry human songs up to God's ear;
To-night in heaven was missed the sweetest praise
That ever rises from earth's mud-stained maze.

'The monk who sang Magnificat is filled
With lust of praise, and with hypocrisy;
He sings for earth--in heaven his notes are stilled
By muffling weight of deadening vanity;
His heart is chained to earth, and cannot bear
His singing higher than the listening air!

'From purest hearts most perfect music springs,
And while you mourned your voices were not sweet,
Marred by the accident of earthly things,--
In heaven, God, listening, judged your song complete.
The sweetest of earth's music came from you,
The music of a noble life and true!'

poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Guardian Angels

A Ballad

Father John in the green lane went
And he drew his robe full tight,
'I would,' quoth he, 'I were home again
For there's evil in the night.
'I would,' quoth he, 'the gold I bear
Were safe with the poor and old,
For strange the fear that follows me
That my eyes cannot behold.'
He looked him left and there he saw
A white rose climb and cling,
He looked him right and in the brake
A wild bird shook his wing.
He looked him back and far there stood
The old church tall and dim,
Yet on the lonely path there came
A terror strange to him.

Without the shadow of the trees
That bent above his way,
Where lost the moon her silver light,
He stood at last at bay.
And on his gown, from his pale brow
Fell great tears of his fright;
His shaking hands held close the gold
Wrapped in its cloth so white.
He knelt him down upon his knee
And prayed the Lord to hear,
'Christ, loosen Thou these laggard feet
That hold me slow in fear.
'Oh, strengthen Thou this childish heart
That trembles all afraid,
In pity for the calling sick
Who die without my aid.
'And let me bring all safely through
The shadows of the night,
The gold I bear for old and poor,
Still Thou this strange affright.'

And as he prayed from off his heart
Fear's clutching fingers fell,
A holy joy grew in his heart
He knew that all was well.
He turned him left and stayed to take
A white rose from her tree,
He turned him right and lilted low
A wild bird melody.
He looked him back and smiling saw
The tall church guarding him,
And then all fearless laughing sped
Through shadows strange and dim.

When but a year had passed away
There came before his gate,
A dying man who 'Succour,' cried
'Before it be too late.'
'Oh, shrive me, Father, ere I die,'
The moaning stranger said;
He took him to his own hearth side
And laid him on his bed.

'Oh, Father! Father! hear me now
And let me rest in peace.'
'Now speak, my son, and tell your sin
To give your soul release.'
'It was one night a year ago—
Sweet Mary, ease my pain—
I followed far your toiling feet
Within a lonely lane.
'The red gold for the old and poor
You had beneath your gown,
I hid within a darksome place
Where I could strike you down.'
Now Father John he smiled and leant
In pity by the bed,
'I did disarm you by my prayer,
I thank the Lord,' he said.
'I went in fear upon my path
I knew some danger lay,
And lone I knelt upon the road
A little while to pray.'

The dying man he raised his head
And laughed both long and loud,
'Oh, ne'er a prayer would hold my hand
Or keep you from your shroud.
'But by you went two mighty men
To guard you either side,
Else had my dagger reached your heart
And surely you had died.'
Then Father John upon his knees
Bent low his holy head,
'God's angels walked beside me there
Lest you my blood should shed
My guardian angels walked by me,
I thank Thee, Lord,' he said.

poem by Dora Sigerson Shorter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Pilgrim

Vain folly of another age,
This wandering over earth,
To find the peace by some dark sin
Banish'd our household hearth.

On Lebanon the dark green pines
Wave over sacred ground,
And Carmel's consecrated rose
Springs from a hallow'd mound.

Glorious the truth they testify,
And blessed is their name;
But even in such a sacred spot,
Are sin and woe the same.

O pilgrim! with each toilsome step,
Vain every weary day;
There is no charm in soil or shrine,
To wash thy guilt away.

Return, with prayer and tear, return
To those who weep at home;
To dry their tears will more avail,
Than o'er a world to roam.

There's hope for one who leaves with shame,
The guilt that lured before;
Remember, He who said, 'Repent,'
Said also, 'Sin no more.'

Return, and in thy daily round
Of duty and of love,
Thou best wilt find that patient faith
Which lifts the soul above.

In ev'ry innocent prayer, each child
Lisps at his father's knee: -
If thine has been to teach that prayer,
There will be hope for thee.

There is a small white church, that stands
Beside thy father's grave,
There kneel and pour those earnest prayers,
That sanctify and save.

Around thee draw thine own home-ties,
And, with a chasten'd mind,
In meek well-doing seek that peace,
No wandering will find.

In charity and penitence,
Thy sin will be forgiven: -
Pilgrim, the heart is the true shrine,
Whence prayers ascend to Heaven.

poem by Letitia Elizabeth Landon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Ex Ore Infantium

Little Jesus, wast Thou shy
Once, and just so small as I?
And what did it feel like to be
Out of Heaven, and just like me?
Didst Thou sometimes think of THERE,
And ask where all the angels were?
I should think that I would cry
For my house all made of sky;
I would look about the air,
And wonder where my angels were;
And at waking 'twould distress me--
Not an angel there to dress me!
Hadst Thou ever any toys,
Like us little girls and boys?
And didst Thou play in Heaven with all
The angels that were not too tall,
With stars for marbles? Did the things
Play Can you see me? through their wings?
And did Thy Mother let Thee spoil
Thy robes, with playing on OUR soil?
How nice to have them always new
In Heaven, because 'twas quite clean blue!

Didst Thou kneel at night to pray,
And didst Thou join Thy hands, this way?
And did they tire sometimes, being young,
And make the prayer seem very long?
And dost Thou like it best, that we
Should join our hands to pray to Thee?
I used to think, before I knew,
The prayer not said unless we do.
And did Thy Mother at the night
Kiss Thee, and fold the clothes in right?
And didst Thou feel quite good in bed,
Kissed, and sweet, and thy prayers said?

Thou canst not have forgotten all
That it feels like to be small:
And Thou know'st I cannot pray
To Thee in my father's way--
When Thou wast so little, say,
Couldst Thou talk Thy Father's way?--
So, a little Child, come down
And hear a child's tongue like Thy own;
Take me by the hand and walk,
And listen to my baby-talk.
To Thy Father show my prayer
(He will look, Thou art so fair),
And say: 'O Father, I, Thy Son,
Bring the prayer of a little one.'

And He will smile, that children's tongue
Has not changed since Thou wast young!

poem by Francis Thompson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Save A Prayer

Dear lord, jesus, buddah, allah or can I just call you joe
Ive got a lot of things to tell you and some things I gotta know
Im tired of hearing talk about this worlds about to end
If we can die together then cant we all be friends
I gotta know
Hey, I gotta know
So mister can you tell me, gotta know
Baby can you tell me, gotta know
Whoa oh oh I gotta know
Yeah, yeah, yeah, I gotta know
Baby can you help me, gotta know
I gotta know
Did you ever feel like you were drowning,
Did you ever feel betrayed by a kiss?
Did you ever feel like you needed somebody,
Would you feel alone in a world like this?
Did you ever feel like you needed shelter,
Did you ever laugh when you wanted to cry?
Did you ever dream about evolution,
Dont you ever feel like your living a lie?
Oh, whoa, too many children grow up blind to the truth.
I say, oh oh, oh, oh,
Say a prayer for me,
Ill save a prayer for you.
Did you ever feel like you were helpless,
Did you ever feel like an open wound?
Did you ever feel that there aint no forgiveness,
Did you ever feel that close to the.truth.
Oh whoa, the world closed their eyes on the blinding truth.
I say, oh, oh, oh, oh , say a prayer for me,
And Ill save a prayer for you
Ill save a prayer for you, Ill save a prayer for you,
Ill save a prayer.... for you, for you, for you.
Ill save a prayer.
Did you ever feel like you need shelter,
Did you ever feel like you lived through the flood?
Did you ever feel a lust for survival, did you ever feel, feel, feel?
The world keeps turning.
Rooms still burning.
Theres too many hearts that havent found a home.
This trains on the tracks and the worlds on my back,
Save a prayer for me and Ill save one for you.
No one to blame , but its hard to explain,
Why too many souls are feeling so alone.
Youve got to hold on if its all you can do.
Save a prayer for me, Ill save a prayer for you.
Ill save a prayer for you, Ill save a prayer for you,
Ill save a prayer....
For you, for you, for you.

song performed by by Bon Jovi
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!