Certitude
There was a time when I was confident
That God's stupendous mystery of birth
Was mine to know. The wonder of it lent
New ecstasy and glory to the earth.
I heard no voice that uttered it aloud,
Nor was it written for me on a scroll;
Yet, if alone or in the common crowd,
I felt myself a consecrated soul.
My child leaped in its dark and silent room
And cried, 'I am,' though all unheard by men.
So leaps my spirit in the body's gloom
And cries, 'I live! I shall be born again.'
Elate with certitude towards death I go,
Nor doubt, nor argue, since I know, I know!
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Related quotes
No individual soul
Which- the soul or body-
Is the cause of one
To be holy or lowly?
Which- the soul or the body-
Is the cause for the king
To down and the traitor to crown?
Which- the soul or the body-
Is the seat of genes
That transmits features?
Soul and body are co-born
Ever since when life was born.
At no stage, be birth, embryo,
Zygote or gametes that fuse,
Was the life born for the soul
To enter the body at birth,
And part at death.
Death is no more than
A death of a twig of the tree.
28.12.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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For God’s Glory
How to live for God’s Glory, begins for us at the Christmas story,
Where we witness a special birth, that changed men on the earth.
The story ends with Easter Truth, with resurrection as living proof,
That by The Son’s Revelation, all men face an eternal destination.
Christ’s birth was a Gift from God, to all men on this earth we trod,
The Gift of God’s great Salvation, to each and every single nation.
His death grants all men new life, through God’s Son Jesus Christ,
Through that Gift God did give, all men in Christ can eternally live.
New life starts here on the earth, through The Spirit and new birth,
As believers become born again, they become for Christ holy men.
Guiding us in His Righteous Light, to live a life that’s pure and right,
As it’s God’s Glory that we live for, to lead others to Christ our Lord.
Our earthly life begins one story, which for believers ends in Glory,
With Eternal Life, that has no end, in a place we can’t comprehend.
Following His death, we sacrifice, our former ways for Jesus Christ,
Living in The Spirit, we receive, from Christ Jesus when we believe.
We live for Christ, Who died for us, placing in The Lord, all our trust,
As He makes our life a testament, to our Savior, whom He had sent.
This earthly life’s a small price to pay, for what God did on that day,
So that we could live forevermore, up in Glory, with Christ our Lord.
(Copyright ©01/2007)
Body And Soul
rise with me this body of mine
sail with me o' soul of thine
for mine is a matter of time
to mold a body of mine
and have a kind
i prefer, as without me
there is none, and without you
there is no me
send me a sense to my body
o' body of mine
a friend and shadow of mine
without a dime
take me from wrong to conformity
lead me from animosity
unchain my soul from vanity
for mine is a body and soul
detach me from the unknown
shine on me o' body and soul
bring me a blessing to my soul
connect and share with me o' body of mine
laugh and talk with me so fine
run and steady with me so divine
the body of my soul and awhile
take me back to my body as a child
...possibly not! i presume...
if i die, you too die
and there is no more of me then
from whence to the end
for i live(d) with you 'til then
extract from 'body and soul'
'footsteps' june 2012 v.7
opn18062012/1534
poem by Onalethuso Petruss Ntema
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Silent Death
Silent death holds my breath
Stalks me from above the trees
There is no breeze
When death walks in my shoes
Silent, cautious, confident
A brilliant business man
Silent death’s cold embrace
Makes me dizzy
He is always busy
But has time for me
Silent death drowns my body
He isn’t sorry
Silent death looks at me
Underneath the water
My eyes dilated
Catch a glimpse
poem by Double A P SS
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Bible in Poetry: Revelation 5
The Scroll and the Lamb:
1To His right hand, I saw a scroll,
With writing on both sides of it,
And sealed with seven seals as well.
2A mighty angel said aloud,
'Who is the worthy one to break
The seals and open scroll, Tell me? '
3But none in heaven or on earth
Or under earth could open scroll
Or look inside it anyway.
4I wept because no one was found
Who was worthy to open it.
5Then one of the elders said to me,
'Don’t weep! The Lion of the Judah tribe,
The Root of David has triumphed.
He will open the scroll and seals.'
6 I saw a Lamb that appeared slain,
And standing in the throne’s center,
Encircled by creatures, elders.
He had horns seven horns and like eyes,
Which are God’s seven big spirits
That are sent out into the earth.
7He took the scroll from his right hand.
8And when he had taken it thus,
The living creatures four fell down
Before the Lamb with the elders.
Each one possessed a harp with it,
And held gold bowls filled with incense,
Which are the prayers of the saints.
9And they sang a new song:
'Worthy are you to take the scroll
And open its seals,
Because you’re slain,
And with your blood,
You purchased men for God,
From every tribe and language,
And people and nation.”
10You’ve made them to be a kingdom,
And priests to serve our Lord and God,
And they will reign upon the earth.'
11And then, I looked and heard the voice
Of many angels, in thousands
Upon thousands in their numbers,
And ten thousand times, ten thousand,
They encircled the splendid throne,
And living creatures and the elders.
12In a loud voice they sang:
'O worthy is the Lamb, who’s slain,
To receive pow’r, wealth, wisdom, strength
And honor, glory and all praise! '
13 And then I heard every creature,
In heaven, earth and in the sea,
And all that is in them, singing:
'To Him who sits upon the throne
And to the Lamb, be praise, honor
Glory and power, forever! '
14The living creatures said, 'Amen, '
While elders fell down, worshiped Him.
poem by John Celes
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The story of the child in the Manger
ages ago and a two thousands years past, the child was born
in the manger the, Emmanuel who lighted the the dark
sky of hope to a brighten new ages of life, a new beginning of
life everlasting
in a solemn desert where only a shelter of animals Mary and
Joseph tarry, for there was no room to them to lay, the baby
Jesus was there to stay, born witness by the angel, adored by
the magi and rejoice by the shepherds who stay with them
in the cottage of charity
silent felt the whole Bethlehem, while the whole Judah, Herod
got crazy for the three wise kings Melchor, Baltazar and
Gaspar brought gifts to offer and honor the king of kings,
who according to the prophecy will reign the world and the
universe, a dominion of all ages, and He will be seated at the
right side of the Father in heaven, till eternity
the only begotten of the Father, the promise of the messiah as
foretold by the prophets, the fulfillment of the covenant, the
consoler of the affected, the giver of mercy and the brother
to all mankind, who will live with us, until beyond this world
as the the angels in heaven and in the earth rejoice, singing with
there an endless hymn of praise, the universe display the glory
of God in our hearts, and live our memories to the generation
to come, that the Lord thy God is the God for all mankind
our unending thanks echo in the distance land, transcends beyond
ages, race, creed, for the mighty Lord, shower his blessing to all,
let our soul shout for joy and let our spirit thanks the giver of life,
for Jesus is with us who was born in a manger
' let the spirit of the child Jesus in the manger live in our HEARTS' '
poem by Antonio Liao
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Death and Birth
Death leads to birth rather than birth, to death.
Birth is close to death and not vice versa.
Every birth is at the result of a death.
Death to birth, not birth to death, is the path.
The death of clay is the birth of a pot;
The death of the pot is the birth of clay.
Ice melts to water and water forms ice.
In each conversion, occur death and birth.
The death of a night is the birth of a day;
The death of a day is the birth of a night.
New Year means the death of the old year too.
In each transition, takes place death and birth.
The death of a seed is the birth of a plant;
The death of gametes is the birth of an embryo.
Salts die to form cells; cells die to form salts.
In each growth, form death and birth of matter.
The so called death and birth is nothing but
Deaths and births of forms made of matter.
The matter itself does not die to be born
But is converted to different forms.
Elements disappear to form plants.
Plants as food add to the animals’ flesh.
Plants and animals on death liberate
As elements, serving through worms and germs.
When a child is born, there’s no birth of life.
The embryo transforms into a child.
When a man dies, there is no death of life.
The body disintegrates to salts.
Matter, energy and life have no death
They have got one birth since when they’ve been.
They interact and come different stages
In which the pattern is death and birth.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Action
"Wherefore is it that we live and die?"
Who thus questioned lived a life of light,
And full many a soul in sorrow's night
Blest him in its thought when out of sight;
While each child of misery passing by
Knew why he was born, but not why he should die.
"For God’s glory do we live and die:"
Who thus answered thrust the asker out
With the unforgiven, for his doubt;
Yet his own life was a silent flout
To the God whom it should glorify:
None knew why he was born, or why he should not die.
poem by Charlotte Fiske Bates from Century Magazine, vol. 49 (1894)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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A Christmas Carol
I.
The shepherds went their hasty way,
And found the lowly stable-shed
Where the Virgin-Mother lay:
And now they checked their eager tread,
For to the Babe, that at her bosom clung,
A Mother's song the Virgin-Mother sung.
II.
They told her how a glorious light,
Streaming from a heavenly throng.
Around them shone, suspending night!
While sweeter than a mother's song,
Blest Angels heralded the Savior's birth,
Glory to God on high! and Peace on Earth.
III.
She listened to the tale divine,
And closer still the Babe she pressed:
And while she cried, the Babe is mine!
The milk rushed faster to her breast:
Joy rose within her, like a summer's morn;
Peace, Peace on Earth! the Prince of Peace is born.
IV.
Thou Mother of the Prince of Peace,
Poor, simple, and of low estate!
That strife should vanish, battle cease,
O why should this thy soul elate?
Sweet Music's loudest note, the Poet's story,
Didst thou ne'er love to hear of fame and glory?
V.
And is not War a youthful king,
A stately Hero clad in mail?
Beneath his footsteps laurels spring;
Him Earth's majestic monarchs hail
Their friends, their playmate! and his bold bright eye
Compels the maiden's love-confessing sigh.
VI.
Tell this in some more courtly scene,
To maids and youths in robes of state!
I am a woman poor and mean,
And wherefore is my soul elate.
War is a ruffian, all with guilt defiled,
That from the aged father's tears his child!
VII.
A murderous fiend, by fiends adored,
He kills the sire and starves the son;
The husband kills, and from her board
Steals all his widow's toil had won;
Plunders God's world of beauty; rends away
All safety from the night, all comfort from the day.
VIII.
Then wisely is my soul elate,
That strife should vanish, battle cease:
I'm poor and of low estate,
The Mother of the Prince of Peace.
Joy rises in me, like a summer's morn:
Peace, Peace on Earth! The Prince of Peace is born!
poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
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Unless A Man Is Born Again
Nicodemus knew that Jesus was a teacher, who had come from God,
For no one but He could perform miraculous signs he said with a nod.
Nicodemus himself, was a seeker of The Eternal Truth of Almighty God,
And believing in The Word, he was lead by Christ's staff not His rod.
He said unless a man is born again he can not see The Kingdom of God,
Instead of His Mercy they will receive His Justice through His Rod.
These things were much too lofty for the natural mind to comprehend,
Man can not see The Kingdom without The Spirit who Christ would send.
Again unless a man is born again he can not enter The Kingdom of God,
Instead he shall be judged on this earth, where his feet have trod.
For our present body is sinful corrupted flesh that can not enter in,
But your incorruptible body is prepared once you become born again.
Surely one cannot enter his mother's womb to be born a second time?
Nicodemus asked, as he didn't understand, this birth is to be Divine.
For Flesh gives birth to flesh, but the Spirit gives birth to spirit,
And The Spirit is like the wind that you can't see but you hear it.
The above is not from man, but was spoke by Jesus our Lord and God,
Yes, Jesus is The Christ forever and will be using His staff and rod.
You, like Nicodemus can be led by Christ's staff to The Truth of God,
Or continue in unbelief and face The King of Glory and His iron rod.
(Copyright © 04/2003)
Rabbi Ismael
THE Rabbi Ishmael, with the woe and sin
Of the world heavy upon him, entering in
The Holy of Holies, saw an awful Face
With terrible splendor filling all the place.
'O Ishmael Ben Elisha!' said a voice,
'What seekest thou? What blessing is thy choice?'
And, knowing that he stood before the Lord,
Within the shadow of the cherubim,
Wide-winged between the blinding light and him,
He bowed himself, and uttered not a word,
But in the silence of his soul was prayer
'O Thou Eternal! I am one of all,
And nothing ask that others may not share.
Thou art almighty; we are weak and small,
And yet Thy children: let Thy mercy spare!'
Trembling, he raised his eyes, and in the place
Of the insufferable glory, lo! a face
Of more than mortal tenderness, that bent
Graciously down in token of assent,
And, smiling, vanished! With strange joy elate,
The wondering Rabbi sought the temple's gate.
Radiant as Moses from the Mount, he stood
And cried aloud unto the multitude
'O Israel, hear! The Lord our God is good!
Mine eyes have seen his glory and his grace;
Beyond his judgments shall his love endure;
The mercy of the All Merciful is sure!'
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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Absence of light
Absence of light
is not dark.
And in dark
one cannot see
not true.
Threat is there
death threat is
more there.
In death
no body knows
where to go
And here no
begining no end.
Not getting answer
relating to death
is not mystery.
Mystery is what
we see what we
touch what
we smell.
Mystery is we
all are here
at this time
in this light.
Mystery is
not dark
not death.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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The Eater
The break of time,
at dawn,
a baby boy cries
under a tree of pine.
Around,
no other breath of man.
He cried long nights
loud, very loud.
Let's guess:
all the wilderness
could have no rest？！
They tried not to mind
the round eyes
noisy brat,
during the day time
loud, loud cries
also were no less..
But:
when the 6-th evening came
they all felt tired
and very sad,
depressed,
badly needed back
a silent time to rest
minds bodies and souls
..lost.. in one quest...
So they invoked
a public assembly
to discuss of how
to deal with 'it'
Some were afraid
he would disturb whole
peace of the entire Earth.
One said:
-Let him cry to death
another's take:
-But what if it takes
much longer time?
-Aahh! ! I already want to kill myself
please have mercy of my soul
stop that ugly voice
a huge Black Bear mumbled.
A Flower's bud:
-But I like his voice
to me like music sounds.
A Worm:
-mmm such a yummy smell
to me it rings
some bells.
-Stop it! To you
anything feels like food
What wouldn't you try to gulp on?
asked an old Fox.
-Guns! Bombs! Nuclear staff plastics
robots games and many more
answered the Worm...
-All right then,
said the Tree of Pine
-Let's make this child
to hunt those down,
on them to feed.
Of hunger he shall never
cry again and then
the good quiet times,
back we may have.
poem by Elena Sandu
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Mysteries Revealed
Mysteries that men have heard, are revealed in God’s Word.
What were once mysteries, have been revealed for all to see.
The mystery of Jesus Christ, who’s the very Author of all life.
A mystery of purpose in Christ, how in Him we have New Life.
Another mystery of Jesus Christ, is how we gain Eternal Life.
There’s the mystery of Israel, and how they fit into God’s will.
Israel is hardened for awhile, so God can include the Gentile.
God didn’t forget the nation; they’re included in His Salvation.
By redemption in God’s Son, Jew and Gentile become one.
The mystery of The Gospel, and how in Christ it was fulfilled.
And the mystery of The Church; those in Christ by New Birth.
My Friend, not to be remiss, there’s the mystery of Godliness.
The mystery of His Revelation; an unveiling of God’s Salvation.
The mystery of end times friend; what God shall do in the end.
The mystery of hope in Glory; the purpose of the Gospel story.
Behold, I show you a mystery, one that every eye shall see.
Christians will not all see death, but be changed in a breath,
In the twinkling of an eye, they will see Christ, but will not die.
While men left upon the earth, will not see men of New Birth,
For only those men born again, shall be raptured in the end.
All the mysteries of past sages, are fulfilled in the Rock of Ages.
God spoke in prophets of old, in Christ fulfilled mysteries untold.
Christ’s Revelation revealed to all, redemption from Adam’s fall.
Christ revealed His Salvation, to every Jew and Gentile nation.
If you accept Christ as Lord, the mystery is a mystery no more.
Hark! The Herald Angels Sing
Hark! the herald angels sing,
Glory, glory to, glory to,
The new born King...
Glory, glory, glory, glory, glory...
Glory to the new born King
Hark! the herald angels sing, Glory to the new born King
Peace on earth and mercy mild, God and sinners reconciled
Joyful all ye nations rise, join the triumph of the skies
With angelic host proclaim, Christ is born in Bethlehem
Hark! the herald angels sing, Glory to the new born King
Glory, glory, glory, (oh yeah) glory, glory
Glory to the new born King
Glory (glory) glory, (yeah) glory, glory...
Glory...
Hark! the herald angels sing,
Glory... Glory...
Hail! the heaven-born Prince of Peace; Hail the son of Righteousness
Light and life to all He brings, risen with healing in His wings
Mild He lays His glory by, born that man, no more may die
Born to raise the sons of earth, born to give them second birth
Hark! the herald angels sing, Glory to the new born...
[Ad Libs]
song performed by by Jessica Simpson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Morality
We cannot kindle when we will
The fire which in the heart resides;
The spirit bloweth and is still,
In mystery our soul abides.
But tasks in hours of insight will'd
Can be through hours of gloom fulfill'd.
With aching hands and bleeding feet
We dig and heap, lay stone on stone;
We bear the burden and the heat
Of the long day, and wish 'twere done.
Not till the hours of light return,
All we have built do we discern.
Then, when the clouds are off the soul,
When thou dost bask in Nature's eye,
Ask, how she view'd thy self-control,
Thy struggling, task'd morality--
Nature, whose free, light, cheerful air,
Oft made thee, in thy gloom, despair.
And she, whose censure thou dost dread,
Whose eye thou wast afraid to seek,
See, on her face a glow is spread,
A strong emotion on her cheek!
'Ah, child!' she cries, 'that strife divine,
Whence was it, for it is not mine?
'There is no effort on my brow--
I do not strive, I do not weep;
I rush with the swift spheres and glow
In joy, and when I will, I sleep.
Yet that severe, that earnest air,
I saw, I felt it once--but where?
'I knew not yet the gauge of time,
Nor wore the manacles of space;
I felt it in some other clime,
I saw it in some other place.
'Twas when the heavenly house I trod,
And lay upon the breast of God.'
poem by Matthew Arnold
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Clara Morris (Written for a Benefit Given Mrs. Morris)
The Radiant Ruler of Mystic Regions
Where souls of artists are fitted for birth,
Gathered together their lovely legions
And fashioned a woman to shine on earth.
They bathed her in splendor
They made her tender:
They gave her a nature both sweet and wild.
They gave her emotions
Like storm stirred oceans,
And they gave her the heart of a little child.
These Radiant Rulers (who are not human
Nor yet divine like the gods above)
Poured all their gifts in the soul of a woman
That fragile vessel meant only for love.
Still more they taught her,
Still more they brought her-
Till they gave her the world for a harp one day,
And they bade her string it-
They bade her ring it,
While the stars all wondered to hear her play.
She touched the strings in a master fashion,
She uttered the cry of a world's despair.
Its long-hid secret, its pent-up passion,
She gave to the winds in a vibrant air.
For ah! the heart of her,
That was the art of her,
Great with the feeling that makes men kin.
Art unapproachable,
Art all uncoachable,
Fragrance and flame from the spirit within.
The earth turns ever an ear unheeding
To the sorrows of art, as it cries for more:
And she played on the harp till her hands were bleeding
And her brow was bruised by the laurels she wore.
She knew the trend of it,
She knew the end of it.
Men heard the music and men felt the thrill.
Bound to the altar
Of art, could she falter?
Then came a silence-the music was still.
And yet in the echoes we seem to hear it
In waves unbroken it circles the earth:
And we catch in the light of her dauntless spirit
A gleam from the center that gave her birth.
Still is the fame of her
Felt in the name of her.
But low lies the harp that once thrilled to her strain.
No hand has taken it,
No hand can waken it-
For the soul of her art was her secret of pain.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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A Christmas Carol
The Christ-child lay on Mary's lap,
His hair was like a light.
(O weary, weary were the world,
But here is all aright.)
The Christ-child lay on Mary's breast
His hair was like a star.
(O stern and cunning are the kings,
But here the true hearts are.)
The Christ-child lay on Mary's heart,
His hair was like a fire.
(O weary, weary is the world,
But here the world's desire.)
The Christ-child stood on Mary's knee,
His hair was like a crown,
And all the flowers looked up at Him,
And all the stars looked down
'A Christmas Carol' poem
I
The shepherds went their hasty way,
And found the lowly stable-shed
Where the Virgin-Mother lay:
And now they checked their eager tread,
For to the Babe, that at her bosom clung,
A Mother's song the Virgin-Mother sung.
II
They told her how a glorious light,
Streaming from a heavenly throng.
Around them shone, suspending night!
While sweeter than a mother's song,
Blest Angels heralded the Savior's birth,
Glory to God on high! and Peace on Earth.
III
She listened to the tale divine,
And closer still the Babe she pressed:
And while she cried, the Babe is mine!
The milk rushed faster to her breast:
Joy rose within her, like a summer's morn;
Peace, Peace on Earth! the Prince of Peace is born.
IV
Thou Mother of the Prince of Peace,
Poor, simple, and of low estate!
That strife should vanish, battle cease,
O why should this thy soul elate?
Sweet Music's loudest note, the Poet's story,
Didst thou ne'er love to hear of fame and glory?
V
And is not War a youthful king,
A stately Hero clad in mail?
Beneath his footsteps laurels spring;
Him Earth's majestic monarchs hail
Their friends, their playmate! and his bold bright eye
Compels the maiden's love-confessing sigh.
VI
Tell this in some more courtly scene,
To maids and youths in robes of state!
I am a woman poor and mean,
And wherefore is my soul elate.
War is a ruffian, all with guilt defiled,
That from the aged father's tears his child!
VII
A murderous fiend, by fiends adored,
He kills the sire and starves the son;
The husband kills, and from her board
Steals all his widow's toil had won;
Plunders God's world of beauty; rends away
All safety from the night, all comfort from the day.
VIII
Then wisely is my soul elate,
That strife should vanish, battle cease:
I'm poor and of low estate,
The Mother of the Prince of Peace.
Joy rises in me, like a summer's morn:
Peace, Peace on Earth! The Prince of Peace is born!
poem by Gilbert Keith Chesterton
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And when I was born, I drew in the common air, and fell upon the earth, which is of like nature; and the first voice which I uttered was crying, as all others do.
quote by Solomon Ibn Gabirol
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Who IS in the FOG
Whenever Fog comes and roams about
In her whitish bulk I feel some doubt.
I feel some unheard footsteps
Follow me without stops.
They neither come near
Nor they go too far.
Perhaps it is some past memory
Or the dead days ghost hoary.
Or my own fickle fancy
Or peaceful Fog's discrepancy.
Never alone I feel in this earthly cloud
Surrounded by an endless crowd.
Fog is the dispersion of my memories
Or a noise of my soul's silent cries.
poem by Prof Niamat Ali Murtazai
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