Aaron
Holiness on the head,
Light and perfection on the breast,
Harmonious bells below, raising the dead
To led them unto life and rest.
Thus are true Aarons dressed.
Profaneness in my head,
Defects and darkness in my breast,
A noise of passions ringing me for dead
Unto a place where is no rest.
Poor priest thus am I dressed.
Only another head
I have, another heart and breast,
another music, making live not dead,
without whom I could have no rest:
In him I am well dressed.
Christ is my only head,
My alone only heart and breast,
My only music, striking me even dead;
That to the old man I may rest,
And be in him new dressed.
So holy in my head,
Perfect and light in my dear breast,
My doctrine tuned by Christ, (who is not dead,
But lives in me while I do rest)
Come people; Aaron's dressed.
poem by George Herbert
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Related quotes
Promised Rest
Men must truly believe friend lest, they’ll miss God’s promised rest,
Within true faith men must receive, Jesus Christ when they believe.
God’s rest begins as you believe, and continues on until you leave,
Until you leave this temporal life, only if you believe in Jesus Christ.
God through Paul was concerned, just as Israel men hadn’t learned,
As sin had hardened their hearts, from them God would soon depart.
Although they had seen conquest, many in the land did not see rest.
Men today can also be deceived, by men who say they’ve believed.
Those who believe in their head, without Christ, are spiritually dead.
Without Him they won’t be blessed, or receive God’s promised rest.
God’s rest starts down here, when we come to God in reverent fear,
Knowing our life will one day end, and we need Christ as our friend.
A friend who helps start each day, with you in a new and restful way,
This as you rest in God’s only Son, The Lord Jesus, God’s Holy One.
After a week with hearts stressed, we have in Christ a Sabbath rest,
Just like our Creator up in Heaven, men rest from work one in seven.
While upon earth, whatever the test, in The Lord we can always rest,
Guiding us with His staff and rod, Christ fills us with the peace of God.
With our sin as far as east from west, we will soon enter Eternal Rest,
In robes of white we shall be dressed, and live life eternally at its best.
(Copyright ©08/2006)
To D-
In thee I fondly hoped to clasp
A friend whom death alone could sever;
Till envy, with malignant grasp,
Detach’d thee from my breast for ever.
True, she has forced thee from my breast,
Yet in my heart thou keep’st thy seat;
There, there thine image still must rest,
Until that heart shall cease to beat.
And when the grave restores her dead,
When life again to dust is given,
On thy dear breast I’ll lay my head—-
Without thee where would be my heaven?
poem by Byron (1803)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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To D
In thee I fondly hoped to clasp
A friend whom death alone could sever;
Till envy, with malignant grasp,
Detach'd thee from my breast for ever.
True, she has forced thee from my breast,
Yet in my heart thou keep'st thy seat;
There, there thine image still must rest,
Until that heart shall cease to beat.
And when the grave restored her dead,
When life again to dust is given,
On thy dear breast I'll lay my head--
Without thee where would be my heaven?
February 1803
A New Song to an Old Tune - From Victor Hugo
If a pleasant lawn there grow
By the showers caressed,
Where in all the seasons blow
Flowers gaily dressed,
Where by handfuls one may win
Lilies, woodbine, jessamine,
I will make a path therein
For thy feet to rest.
If there live in honour's sway
An all-loving breast
Whose devotion cannot stray,
Never gloom-oppressed -
If this noble breast still wake
For a worthy motive's sake,
There a pillow I will make
For thy head to rest.
If there be a dream of love,
Dream that God has blest,
Yielding daily treasure-trove
Of delightful zest,
With the scent of roses filled,
With the soul's communion thrilled,
There, oh! there a nest I'll build
For thy heart to rest.
poem by Robert Fuller Murray
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The White Lady
I cannot rest, I cannot rest
In straight and shiny wood,
My woven hands upon my breast--
The dead are all so good!
The earth is cool across their eyes;
They lie there quietly.
But I am neither old nor wise;
They do not welcome me.
Where never I walked alone before,
I wander in the weeds;
And people scream and bar the door,
And rattle at their beads.
We cannot rest, we never rest
Within a narrow bed
Who still must love the living best--
Who hate the pompous dead!
poem by Dorothy Parker
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The light's in my head - Villanelle
There's a light in the sickroom that never goes dead,
Though daylight is dimming, through the still open curtain-
But the light's in my head; the light's in my head!
He lies in a stupor, but calls out from his bed;
And he never complains, but you fear that he's hurting-
There's a light in the sickroom that never goes dead.
She doesn't sleep nights, but sleeps daytimes instead;
Her breathing's still even, but death's near for certain-
But the light's in my head; the light's in my head!
First they said stroke, and then heart attack- dread!
With the new diagnosis, with death he is flirting-
There's a light in the sickroom that never goes dead.
There's cancer and heart disease, so lightly we tread;
It's bad news for sure- her aneurysm bursting! -
But the light's in my head; the light's in my head!
It's all here inside me now, all that I've said,
Now what's left in memory's darkness, I'm cursing;
There's a light in the sickroom that never goes dead-
And the light's in my head- the light's in my head!
poem by Patti Masterman
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After Death
IF we must part, this parting is the best:
How would you bear to lay
Your head on some warm pillow far away--
Your head, so used to lying on my breast?
But now your pillow is cold;
Your hands have flowers, and not my hands, to hold;
Upon our bed the worn bride-linen lies.
I have put the death-money upon your eyes,
So that you should not wake up in the night.
I have bound your face with white;
I have washed you, yes, with water and not with tears,--
Those arms wherein I have slept so many years,
Those feet that hastened when they came to me,
And all your body that belonged to me.
I have smoothed your dear dull hair,
And there is nothing left to say for you
And nothing left to fear or pray for you;
And I have got the rest of life to bear:
Thank God it is you, not I, who are lying there.
If I had died
And you had stood beside
This still white bed
Where the white, scented, horrible flowers are spread,--
I know the thing it is,
And I thank God that He has spared you this.
If one must bear it, thank God it was I
Who had to live and bear to see you die,
Who have to live, and bear to see you dead.
You will have nothing of it all to bear:
You will not even know that in your bed
You lie alone. You will not miss my head
Beside you on the pillow: you will rest
So soft in the grave you will not miss my breast.
But I--but I--Your pillow and your place--
And only the darkness laid against my face,
And only my anguish pressed against my side--
Thank God, thank God, that it was you who died!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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When Am I Going To Rest
When am I going to rest?
When I'm going to fetch water
You are on my back
When I'm going to fetch firewood
You are on my back
Oh! When am I going to rest?
When am I going to rest?
When I want to rest
You are on my breast
Suckling like a calf
Yet you have little sharpened teeth
I can even scream if you bite my breast.
All you know is to wee wee, eat and cry
Without giving me time to rest
To my breast
You are the pest
Applying pepper might be a pest control
But still I will not rest
Because there is much to do for you
Perhaps death will be my rest.
poem by Walani Ndhlovu
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The True Aaron
See Aaron, God's anointed priest,
Within the veil appear;
In robes of mystic meaning dressed,
Presenting Israel's prayer.
The plate of gold which crowns his brows,
His holiness describes;
His breast displays, in shining rows,
The names of all the tribes.
With the atoning blood he stands,
Before the mercy-seat;
And clouds of incense from his hands,
Arise with odor sweet.
Urim and Thummim near his heart,
In rich engravings worn;
The sacred light of truth impart,
To teach and to adorn.
Through him the eye of faith descries,
A greater Priest than he;
Thus Jesus pleads above the skies,
For you, my friends, and me.
He bears the names of all his saints,
Deep on his heart engraved;
Attentive to the state and wants
Of all his love has saved.
In him a holiness complete,
Light and perfections shine;
And wisdom, grace, and glory meet;
A Saviour all divine.
The blood, which as a Priest he bears
For sinners, is his own
The incense of his prayers and tears
Perfume the holy throne.
In him my weary soul has rest,
Though I am weak and vile
I read my name upon his breast,
And see the Father smile.
poem by John Newton
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Winter Marches On
(oooh, ohhh, mmmm)
The trade's on.
She drains emotion -
To drink from,
The breast of fortune
Dreams have frozen,
Crystal in the morning
Birthtime rose,
A thorn for coronation.
-
All arise from your rest
We'll find enough there to feed you.
Soon you'll belong to the blessed
Spare us your lives while we need you.
Loud, is the music, the crowd is ringing
Out, of my head as the winter marches on...
Loud is the music the sky is bringing
Out of my head as the winter marches on...
Loud, is the music, the crowd is bringing
Out, of my head as the winter marches on...
Loud is the music the sky is ringing
Out of my head as the winter marches on...
And on...
Winter marches on...
song performed by by Duran Duran
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cant Get It Out Of My Head
By elo, as performed by fountains of wayne
Midnight, on the water
I saw the oceans daughter
Walking on a wave she came
Staring as she called my name.
And I cant get it out of my head
No, I cant get it out of my head
Now my whole world is gone for dead
cos I cant get it out of my head.
Breakdown, on the shoreline
Cant move, its an ebb tide
Morning dont get here tonight
Searching for her silver light.
And I cant get it out of my head
No, I cant get it out of my head
Now my whole world is gone for dead
cos I cant get it out of my head, oh no
Day job, in the city
Robin hood & william tell & ivanhoe & lancelot
They dont envy me
Sitting as the sun goes down
In dreams the world keeps spinning round & around
And I cant get it out of my head
No, I cant get it out of my head
Now my whole world is gone for dead
cos I cant get it out of my head.
No, I cant get it out of my head
No, I cant get it out of my head
Now my whole world is gone for dead
cos I cant get it out of my head, oh no
song performed by by Fountains Of Wayne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hymn For My Brother's Ordination
Christ to the young man said: 'Yet one thing more;
If thou wouldst perfect be,
Sell all thou hast and give it to the poor,
And come and follow me!'
Within this temple Christ again, unseen,
Those sacred words hath said,
And his invisible hands to-day have been
Laid on a young man's head.
And evermore beside him on his way
The unseen Christ shall move,
That he may lean upon his arm and say,
'Dost thou, dear Lord, approve?'
Beside him at the marriage feast shall be,
To make the scene more fair;
Beside him in the dark Gethsemane
Of pain and midnight prayer.
O holy trust! O endless sense of rest!
Like the beloved John
To lay his head upon the Saviour's breast,
And thus to journey on!
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Cant Get It Out Of My Head
Midnight on the water.
I saw the oceans daughter.
Walking on a waves chicane,
Staring as she called my name.
And I cant get it out of my head,
No, I cant get it out of my head.
Now my old world is gone for dead
cos I cant get it out of my head.
Breakdown on the shoreline,
Cant move, its an ebbtide.
Morning dont get here till night,
Searching for her silver light.
And I cant get it out of my head,
No, I cant get it out of my head.
Now my old world is gone for dead
cos I cant get it out of my head, no no.
Bank job in the city.
Robin hood and william tell and ivanhoe and lancelot, they dont envy me.
Sitting till the sun goes down,
In dreams the world keep going round and round.
And I cant get it out of my head,
No, I cant get it out of my head.
Now my old world is gone for dead
cos I cant get it out of my head, no no.
No, I cant get it out of my head,
No, I cant get it out of my head.
Now my old world is gone for dead
cos I cant get it out of my head, no no no no.
song performed by by Electric Light Orchestra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rest In Peace
WHO DARES TO DISTURB THE DEAD?
WHY THEN IS THE DEAD A GHOST?
THEY ARE ABROAD THAT OUGHT TO BE AT REST,
YEA, THE DEAD NO LONGER RESTS IN PEACE,
TELL YE THE TRUTH,
DOES THE DEAD LIVE ON IN CAPTIVITY?
WHY THEN DOES THE DEAD CRY FOR IT'S LOST INNOCENCE?
THOUGH I BE DEAD,
I LIVE ON IN TEARS,
I WEEP FOR MY LOST INNOCENCE,
YEA, THE DEAD NO LONGER REST IN PEACE,
THE THIEVES HAVE STOLEN MY LIFE AND MY DEATH,
YEA, NO ONE DEAD, EVER REST'S IN PEACE!
poem by Overlord Don Manuel Ihcakeyno
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I'll Sleep When I Am Dead
J. Bon Jovi, R. Sambora, D. Child)
Seven days of saturday
Is all that I need
Got no use for Sunday
'Cause I don't rest in peace
Don't need no Mondays
Or the rest of the week
I spend a lot of time in bed
But baby I don't like to sleep no
I won't lie to you
I'm necer gonna cry to you
I'll probably drive you wild 8 days a week
Until I'm 6 feet under
Baby I don't need a bed
Gonna live while I'm alive
I'll sleep when I'm dead
Till they roll me over
And lay my bones to rest
Gonna live while I'm alive
I'll sleep when I'm dead
So you're looking for some action
I got got everything you need
Better keep your motor running
'cause I was built for speed
This ain't no slumber party
Got no time for catching z's
If they say that that ain't healthy
Well then living's a disease
We're never going to die baby
Come on let me drive you crazy
We'll make every night another New Year's Eve
Till I'm six feet under
I won't need a bed
Gonna live while I'm alive
I'll sleep when I'm dead
Till they roll me over
And lay my bones to rest
Gonna live while I'm alive
I'll sleep when I'm dead
Sleep when I'm dead, sleep when I'm dead
Gonna live while I'm alive,
I'll sleep when I'm dead
Seven days of Saturday
Is all that I need
Got no use for Sunday
'Cause I don't rest in peace
I was born to live
You know I wasn't born to die
But if they party down in heaven
I'll be sure to be on time
Until I'm six feet under
I don't need a bed
Gonna live while I'm alive
I'll sleep when I'm dead
Till they roll me over
And lay my bones to rest
Gonna live while I'm alive
I'll sleep when I'm dead
I feel like I'm exploding
Going out of my head
Gonna live while I'm alive
I'll sleep when I'm dead
Till I'm six feet under
And they lay my bones to rest
Gonna live while I'm alive
I'll sleep when I'm dead
Sleep when I'm dead, sleep when I'm dead
Gonna live while I'm alive, sleep when I'm dead
song performed by by Bon Jovi
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Dead Child
Sleep on, dear, now
The last sleep and the best,
And on thy brow,
And on thy quiet breast
Violets I throw.
Thy scanty years
Were mine a little while;
Life had no fears
To trouble thy brief smile
With toil or tears.
Lie still, and be
For evermore a child!
Not grudgingly,
Whom life has not defiled,
I render thee.
Slumber so deep,
No man would rashly wake;
I hardly weep,
Fain only, for thy sake.
To share thy sleep.
Yes, to be dead,
Dead, here with thee to-day,--
When all is said
'Twere good by thee to lay
My weary head.
The very best!
Ah, child so tired of play,
I stand confessed:
I want to come thy way,
And share thy rest.
poem by Ernest Christopher Dowson
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First and Last
Thy "little lamb" once more!
My Lord, my life, my rest,
Borne in thine arms the wide world o'er,
A lamb upon thy breast.
Thy sheep across the waste
Were wandering far and wide,
And after them my heart would baste
To bring them to thy side.
Thy lambs were weak and faint,
I could but give my best;
Feebly I sought to still the plaint,
And bear them on my breast.
Great Shepherd of the sheep!
The sheep are thine, not mine!
Thou thy great flock wilt surely keep,
And each one lamb of thine.
Ever, the wide waste o'er,
A lamb upon thy breast!
Thy lost thou seekest evermore,
I seek, with thee, and rest.
A lamb upon thy breast,
Still learning what thou art, -
Our Lord, our life, our strength, our rest!
Borne on thy changeless heart.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Thy "little lamb" once more
My Lord, my life, my rest;
Borne in thine arms the dark flood o'er,
A lamb upon thy breast!
poem by Elizabeth Rundle Charles from Littell's Living Age, Volume 143, Issue 1842
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Noonday Rest
THE willows whisper very, very low
Unto the listening breeze;
Sometimes they lose a leaf which, flickering slow,
Faints on the sunburnt leas.
Beneath the whispering boughs and simmering skies,
On the hot ground at rest,
Still as a stone, a ragged woman lies,
Her baby at the breast.
Nibbling around her browse monotonous sheep,
Flies buzz about her head;
Her heavy eyes are shuttered by a sleep
As of the slumbering dead.
The happy birds that live to love and sing,
Flitting from bough to bough,
Peer softly at this ghastly human thing
With grizzled hair and brow.
O'er what strange ways may not these feet have trod
That match the cracking clay?
Man had no pity on her--no, nor God--
A nameless castaway!
But Mother Earth now hugs her to her breast,
Defiled or undefiled;
And willows rock the weary soul to rest,
As she, even she, her child.
poem by Mathilde Blind
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Head Room
Ive never been kissed before
Its been on my list before
A flick of the wrist before would do
But when you get down to it
Its got a good sound to it
Dont meddle around with it
cos its far too wet to woo
When mummy and daddy play
They tell me to go away
But by hanging around
I can learn all the rules
Now I got the technique
Im away
Develop a taste for it
A time and a place for it
Although on the face of it, its a crime
Ive nibbled the cheese of it
The birds and the bees of it
Are weak at the knees
>from making honey
Every time
Im throwing my toys away
Im leaving the boys to play
With the boys
Gimme girls
And its time I was breaking away
Just gimme some head room
Just a little bitta head room
I need some leg room
Just a little bitta leg room
I see myself oh lord
I see a mess
Im making a meal of it
Im breaking the seal of it
Im getting the feel of what to do
Its got a good ring to it
Im getting a thing for it
And if theres a sting in it
Ill have met my waterloo
My mummy and daddy said
Youre liable to wind up dead
Oo, theyve been shooting me a line
Maybe it doesnt exist at all
Oo, Ive been towing the line
Now Im hook line and sinkered
Ive never been kissed before
Its been on my list before
A flick of the wrist before would do
But when you get down to it
Its got a good sound to it
Dont meddle around with it
cos its far too wet to woo
Ive thrown all my toys away
Im leaving the boys to play
With the girls that you get
For a dollar a day
When you pull on their strings they say
Just gimme some head room
Just a little bitta head room
I need a ball room
Up against the wall room
I need the rest oh lord
I need the rest
Just gimme some head room
Just a little bitta head room
Take me to your bed-room
Show a little bitta leg room
I need the rest oh lord
I need the rest
Just gimme some head room
Just a little bitta head room
I need some head room
Just a little bitta head room
I need the rest oh lord
I need the rest
Just gimme some head room
Just a little bitta head room
I need some head room
Just a little bitta head room
I need the rest oh lord
I need the rest
song performed by by 10 Cc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ill Sleep When Im Dead
Seven days of saturday
Is all that I need
Got no use for sunday
cause I dont rest in peace
Dont need no mondays
Or the rest of the week
I spend a lot of time in bed
But baby I dont like to sleep no
I wont lie to you
Im never gonna cry to you
Ill probably drive you wild 8 days a week
Until Im 6 feet under
Baby I dont need a bed
Gonna live while Im alive
Ill sleep when Im dead
Till they roll me over
And lay my bones to rest
Gonna live while Im alive
Ill sleep when Im dead
So youre looking for some action
I got got everything you need
Better keep your motor running
cause I was built for speed
This aint no slumber party
Got no time for catching zs
If they say that that aint healthy
Well then livings a disease
Were never going to die baby
Come on let me drive you crazy
Well make every night another new years eve
Till Im six feet under
I wont need a bed
Gonna live while Im alive
Ill sleep when Im dead
Till they roll me over
And lay my bones to rest
Gonna live while Im alive
Ill sleep when Im dead
Sleep when Im dead, sleep when Im dead
Gonna live while Im alive,
Ill sleep when Im dead
Seven days of saturday
Is all that I need
Got no use for sunday
cause I dont rest in peace
I was born to live
You know I wasnt born to die
But if they party down in heaven
Ill be sure to be on time
Until Im six feet under
I dont need a bed
Gonna live while Im alive
Ill sleep when Im dead
Till they roll me over
And lay my bones to rest
Gonna live while Im alive
Ill sleep when Im dead
I feel like Im exploding
Going out of my head
Gonna live while Im alive
Ill sleep when Im dead
Till Im six feet under
And they lay my bones to rest
Gonna live while Im alive
Ill sleep when Im dead
Sleep when Im dead, sleep when Im dead
Gonna live while Im alive, sleep when Im dead
song performed by by Bon Jovi
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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