Proportionate
I never go to church to pray
Among the crowded pews
Nor kneel before a crucifix
To hail the king of Jews
I never say a prayer
To Saint or Holy Ghost
Nor listen to the preacher's word
That talks of sin the most
But in a pair of eyes
Or drinking silver gin
Or in the colors of a dress
My soul begins to sing
And sunbeams on the wall
Reveal sometimes for me
The beauty that I weave for God
And for Eternity.
poem by Harry Crosby
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Related quotes
To Know The Unknowable You
To know the unknowable you
Is all I want to do
To plunge the depths of your love
Is to soar in the heavens above
Oh to know what cannot be known
It to kneel before your throne
Hallelujah Christ the King
Listen to my heart sing
Hallelujah Christ my King
Listen to my heart sing
To scale the heights of your love
Is to fly with the wings of a dove
To walk through the door of your heart
Means to never be apart
To look into your eyes
Is to fly where the eagle flies
Hallelujah Christ the King
Listen to my heart sing
Hallelujah Christ my King
Listen to my heart sing
To look into your face
Will be an eternal embrace
To see what no eyes have can see
Is to be eternally free
Oh to live in the arms of my King
Is to hear my great-full heart sing
Hallelujah Christ the King
Listen to my heart sing
Hallelujah Christ my King
Listen to my heart sing
To search the unsearchable you
Brings eternity clear into view
To discover the heavenly treasures
Is to dispel all earthly pleasures
To feast at the heavenly table
Renders me completely unable
To describe the indescribable you
And all the glorious things that you d
poem by Frank McEleny
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Holy Is The Lord
Holy is your name, in all the earth I worship you
Holy is your name, in all the earth I come to you
Holy is your name, in all the earth I sing to you
Holy, Holy, Holy is your name
Holy are you Lord, I come before your throne and bow
Holy are you Lord, I come into your presence now
Holy are you Lord I listen to the angels sing
Holy, Holy, Holy are you Lord
Holy are you Lord, my heart it leaps within my chest
Holy are you Lord, Its in your arms I find my rest
Holy are you Lord, the saints around the world they sing
Holy, Holy, Holy are you Lord
Now listen to the saints, they sing Holy are you Lord
Now listen to them cry to you, Holy are you Lord
There is a cry around the world, they lift their voice and sing
Holy, Holy, Holy are you Lord
I come before your throne to sing, Holy is your name
I come before your throne to sing, I'll never be the same
Pour our out your fire of love on me, this is what I sing
Holy, Holy, to the risen King
poem by Frank McEleny
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Daddy Was An Old Time Preacher Man
(Dolly Parton)
Daddy was an old time preacher man
He preacher the word of God throughout the land
He preached so plain a child could understand
Yes, Daddy was an old time preacher man
He told the people of he need to pray
He talked about God's wrath and judgement day
He preached about the great eternity
He preached hell so hot that you could feel the heat
Yes, Daddy was an old time preacher man
Aunt Leanona would get up to testify
And we'd sing "In The Sweet By And By"
The we'd sing "I'm On My Way To Canaan Land"
Yes, Daddy was an old time preacher man
Revivals and camp meetings went for weeks
Folks came from all around to hear him preach
Daddy said if one is saved it's worth it all
But the aisles were always filled at altar calls
Yes, Daddy was an old time preacher man
Daddy worked for God but asked for no pay
For he believed that God provides a way
We never had a lot but we got by
Guess it's 'cause the Lord was on Daddy's side
Yes, Daddy was an old time preacher man
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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
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He Alone Is Worthy
Sing along with the angels,
Adorned in white,
Kneel before Him
In honor of His throne
Sing along.
Thank Him for His mercy
For His council
Thank Him for His Glory
Thank Him.
Holy holy holy
Is His name
King forever
King of heaven and earth
Holy holy is He.
Mighty is His name
His kingdom everlasting
His love all enduring
Mighty is He.
Clap your hands
Stamp your feet
Raise your voices
And praise Him
For He alone is worthy
He alone is holy
Praise Him.
poem by Buxton Shippy
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Psalm 118
v.22-27
S. M.
An hosanna for the Lord's day; or, A new song of salvation by Christ.
See what a living stone
The builders did refuse;
Yet God hath built his church thereon,
In spite of envious Jews.
The scribe and angry priest
Reject thine only Son;
Yet on this Rock shall Zion rest,
As the chief corner-stone.
The work, O Lord, is thine,
And wondrous in our eyes;
This day declares it all divine,
This day did Jesus rise.
This is the glorious day
That our Redeemer made;
Let us rejoice, and sing, and pray,
Let all the church be glad.
Hosanna to the King
Of David's royal blood;
Bless him, ye saints, he comes to bring
Salvation from your God.
We bless thine holy word,
Which all this grace displays;
And offer on thine altar, Lord,
Our sacrifice of praise.
poem by Isaac Watts
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When I Sing For Him
When I sing for him oh praise God's holy name I can feel his presence in my soul
When I sing for him oh blessed be his name how I rejoice within when I sing for him
As I sing a melody that he gave when I speak God's name in song or kneel to pray
Oh I have a special feeling deep within when I sing for him
When I sing for him in person hallelujah when I look to my new home hallelujah
Oh the angels will be singing hallelujah amen when I sing for him when I sing for him
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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He Dwelleth in You
Saviour, I thy word believe,
My unbelief remove;
Now thy quick'ning Spirit give,
The unction from above;
Shew me, Lord, how good thou art,
My soul with all thy fulness fill:
Send the witness in my heart
The Holy Ghost reveal.
Dead in sin 'till then I lie,
Bereft of power to rise;
Till thy Spirit inwardly
Thy saving blood applies:
Now the mighty gift impart,
My sin erase, my pardon seal:
Send the witness, in my heart
The Holy Ghost reveal.
Blessed Comforter, come down,
And live and move in me;
Make my every deed thy own,
In all things led by thee:
Bid my every lust depart,
And with me O vouchsafe to dwell;
Faithful witness, in my heart
Thy perfect light reveal.
Let me in thy love rejoice,
Thy shrine, thy pure abode;
Tell me, by thine inward voice,
That I'm a child of God:
Lord, I choose the better part,
Jesus, I wait thy peace to feel;
Send the witness in my heart
The Holy Ghost reveal.
Whom the world cannot receive,
O manifest in me:
Son of God, I cease to live,
Unless I live in thee
Now impute thy whole desert,
Restore the joy from which I fell:
Breathe the witness, in my heart
The Holy Ghost reveal.
poem by Augustus Montague Toplady
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Before The Paling Of The Stars
Before the winter morn,
Before the earliest cock crow,
Jesus Christ was born:
Born in a stable,
Cradled in a manger,
In the world his hands had made
Born a stranger.
Priest and king lay fast asleep
In Jerusalem;
Young and old lay fast asleep
In crowded Bethlehem;
Saint and angel, ox and ass,
Kept a watch together
Before the Christmas daybreak
In the winter weather.
Jesus on his mother's breast
In the stable cold,
Spotless lamb of God was he,
Shepherd of the fold:
Let us kneel with Mary maid,
With Joseph bent and hoary,
With saint and angel, ox and ass,
To hail the King of Glory.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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Every true prayer is a prayer of the Church; by means of that prayer the Church prays, since it is the Holy Spirit living in the Church, Who in every single soul 'prays in us with unspeakable groanings'.
quote by Edith Stein
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Prayer to St. Francis
'The eyes of the saint make all beauty holy and the hands of the saint consecrate everything they touch.' Thomas Merton
Look at me, O Saint,
sagging skin,
thinning hair, face
lined with roads
too far traveled.
Can you see
in me God's
beauty?
Then touch me!
O take into
your holy palms
my living heart.
Fill me with desire!
Make of me
a holy psalm,
consecrated host,
eternal fire.
poem by Steven Federle
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Someone's Mother
Someone's Mother trails the street
Wrapt in rotted rags;
Broken slippers on her feet
Drearily she drags;
Drifting in the bitter night,
Gnawing gutter bread,
With a face of tallow white,
Listless as the dead.
Someone's Mother in the dim
Of the grey church wall
Hears within a Christmas hymn,
One she can recall
From the h so long ago,
When divinely far,
in the holy alter glow
She would kneel in prayer.
Someone's Mother, huddled there,
Had so sweet a dream;
Seemed the sky was Heaven's stair,
Golden and agleam,
Robed in gown Communion bright,
Singingly she trod
Up and up the stair of light,
And thee was waiting - God.
Someone's Mother cowers down
By the old church wall;
Soft above the sleeping town
Snow begins to fall;
Now her rags are lily fair,
but unproud is she:
Someone's Mother is not there . . .
Lo! she climbs the starry stair
Only angels see.
poem by Robert William Service
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Two Thousand Years Later
I am over 2000 years old, and I am still honored today
People still call me as they kneel down to pray.
I have not changed in all that time
I can still cure the sick, the lame, the blind.
Faith can go a very long way, and I will listen when you pray.
When you think that the devils got a hold on you
I’ll be there, I know just what to do.
Everyone has a destiny that they must fulfill
It is in the masters book, it is GODS will.
Every life must touch another for us to be whole
It’s part of our destinies, and part of our goal.
We all have a cross that we must bear
But with my father I was able to share.
He gave me the strength that I needed most
It came from THE FATHER, THE SON, THE HOLY GHOST.
I spread the words that he had given to me
And it has lasted thru this eternity.
I called out to my FATHER, before I took my last breath
And the skies above became black as can be
That was when I filled my destiny.
Thousands upon thousands have died in my name
Was their lives worth it, or was it in vain?
They was put here to spread the word
Words that on deaf ears were not heard.
For all did not believe that I died that day
But yet in my tomb, I did lay.
Now I leave this question to you: if I did not exist,
who would you turn to?
poem by Louis Rams
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Sailing to Byzantium
That is no country for old men. The young
In one another’s arms, birds in the trees
—Those dying generations—at their song,
The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas,
Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long
Whatever is begotten, born, and dies.
Caught in that sensual music all neglect
Monuments of unageing intellect.
An aged man is but a paltry thing,
A tattered coat upon a stick, unless
Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing
For every tatter in its mortal dress,
Nor is there singing school but studying
Monuments of its own magnificence;
And therefore I have sailed the seas and come
To the holy city of Byzantium.
O sages standing in God’s holy fire
As in the gold mosaic of a wall,
Come from the holy fire, perne in a gyre,
And be the singing-masters of my soul.
Consume my heart away; sick with desire
And fastened to a dying animal
It knows not what it is; and gather me
Into the artifice of eternity.
Once out of nature I shall never take
My bodily form from any natural thing,
But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make
Of hammered gold and gold enamelling
To keep a drowsy Emperor awake;
Or set upon a golden bough to sing
To lords and ladies of Byzantium
Of what is past, or passing, or to come.
poem by William Butler Yeats
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Upon The Translation Of The Psalms By Sir Philip Sidney And The Countess Of Pembroke, His Sister
ETERNAL God—for whom who ever dare
Seek new expressions, do the circle square,
And thrust into straight corners of poor wit
Thee, who art cornerless and infinite—
I would but bless Thy name, not name Thee now
—And Thy gifts are as infinite as Thou—
Fix we our praises therefore on this one,
That, as thy blessed Spirit fell upon
These Psalms' first author in a cloven tongue
—For 'twas a double power by which he sung
The highest matter in the noblest form—
So thou hast cleft that Spirit, to perform
That work again, and shed it here, upon
Two, by their bloods, and by Thy Spirit one ;
A brother and a sister, made by Thee
The organ, where Thou art the harmony.
Two that make one John Baptist's holy voice,
And who that Psalm, 'Now let the Isles rejoice,'
Have both translated, and applied it too,
Both told us what, and taught us how to do.
They show us islanders our Joy, our King ;
They tell us why, and teach us how to sing.
Make all this all three choirs, heaven, earth, and spheres ;
The first, Heaven, hath a song, but no man hears ;
The spheres have music, but they have no tongue,
Their harmony is rather danced than sung ;
But our third choir, to which the first gives ear
—For Angels learn by what the Church does here—
This choir hath all. The organist is he
Who hath tuned God and man, the organ we ;
The songs are these, which heaven's high holy Muse
Whisper'd to David, David to the Jews ;
And David's successors in holy zeal,
In forms of joy and art do re-reveal
To us so sweetly and sincerely too,
That I must not rejoice as I would do,
When I behold that these Psalms are become
So well attired abroad, so ill at home,
So well in chambers, in Thy Church so ill,
As I can scarce call that reform'd until
This be reform'd ; would a whole state present
A lesser gift than some one man hath sent ?
And shall our Church unto our Spouse and King
More hoarse, more harsh than any other, sing ?
For that we pray, we praise Thy name for this,
Which, by this Moses and this Miriam, is
Already done ; and as those Psalms we call,
—Though some have other authors—David's all,
So though some have, some may some Psalms translate,
We Thy Sidneian psalms shall celebrate,
And, till we come th' extemporal song to sing
—Learn'd the first hour that we see the King,
Who hath translated those translators—may
These their sweet learned labours all the way
Be as our tuning, that when hence we part,
We may fall in with them, and sing our part !
poem by John Donne
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In the Dark I Sit
In the dark I sit
A picture on the wall
Eyes staring observing me
Talks to me tells me I’m valueless
A nothing a nobody
I yell at it tell it to stop
But it just ignores me
In the dark I sit
A picture on the wall
Eyes staring observing me
Talks to me tells me I’m valueless
I’m nothing a nobody
I try to ignore it I try to block out the voices
But I have to give in
In the dark I sir
A picture on the wall
Eyes staring observing me
Talks to me tells me I’m valueless
I’m nothing a nobody
I try not to listen try to deny it
But it speaks the truth
In the dark I sit
A picture on the wall
Eyes staring observing me
Talks to me tells me I’m valueless
A nothing a nobody
I begin to believe it begin to listen to the voice
But then I realize they come from within
In the dark I sit
A picture on the wall
Eyes shut now dead now
No longer speaks to me the picture is worthless
A nothing a nobody
It’s finally quite it’s finally peaceful
But now it’s just dark
poem by Eboni Paul
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By The Fireside : King Witlaf's Drinking-horn
Witlaf, a king of the Saxons,
Ere yet his last he breathed,
To the merry monks of Croyland
His drinking-horn bequeathed,--
That, whenever they sat at their revels,
And drank from the golden bowl,
They might remember the donor,
And breathe a prayer for his soul.
So sat they once at Christmas,
And bade the goblet pass;
In their beards the red wine glistened
Like dew-drops in the grass.
They drank to the soul of Witlaf,
They drank to Christ the Lord,
And to each of the Twelve Apostles,
Who had preached his holy word.
They drank to the Saints and Martyrs
Of the dismal days of yore,
And as soon as the horn was empty
They remembered one Saint more.
And the reader droned from the pulpit
Like the murmur of many bees,
The legend of good Saint Guthlac,
And Saint Basil's homilies;
Till the great bells of the convent,
From their prison in the tower,
Guthlac and Bartholomaeus,
Proclaimed the midnight hour.
And the Yule-log cracked in the chimney,
And the Abbot bowed his head,
And the flamelets flapped and flickered,
But the Abbot was stark and dead.
Yet still in his pallid fingers
He clutched the golden bowl,
In which, like a pearl dissolving,
Had sunk and dissolved his soul.
But not for this their revels
The jovial monks forbore,
For they cried, 'Fill high the goblet!
We must drink to one Saint more!'
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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A Pair Of Eyes
A pair of eyes constitutes the mass of art,
A pair of eyes, tells the throb of heart.
A pair of eyes, is a cool forest pond.
A pair of eyes, is sorcerer's wand.
A pair of eyes, mirrors the soul and mind.
A pair of eyes, thru which man we find.
A pair of eyes, sees all our deeds,
God's eyes are those, one's conscience needs.
poem by Nilakshi Das
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A Song In Our Heart
We have a song we love to sing, a special song about our King.
Friend this King will always be, The King through all of Eternity.
This song we sing in our heart, throughout our day plays a part,
As the sweet melody within, reminds us that we belong to Him.
Friend, The King of all Eternity, through The Spirit, lives in me,
My heart became His Throne, when He made me His very own.
God gave me brand new life, through The Savior Jesus Christ,
Who fills my heart all day long, with a new and everlasting song.
A song unlike any other friend, for once it begins, it has no end.
The song will then fill your heart, with Christ’s love from the start.
Christ then fills you with a peace, from God that will never cease.
And in this song you shall find, God’s comfort for heart and mind.
Friend, this song, you shall see, will focus you heart on Eternity.
The song is lead by The Holy Spirit, and not all men can hear it.
But The Spirit fills you with mirth, the day you receive new birth.
It then continues in eternal song, when we join Heaven’s throng.
Christ can make all things new, and this day He can start in you.
When you let Him be your King, you too will have a song to sing,
As He fills your heart with love, that only comes from God above.
And just like His song of peace, the Love of God will never cease.
(Copyright ©03/2006)
Lady of God
Lady of God
Impenitent agreement, a promise of eternity.
A convent woman, a sanctuary. Obscenity
impending in every temptation's quell matin,
her adoration-values unequal, of waned satin.
A Holy Holocaust of sentiments of earthy offer,
a sanctity turned to embrace a holy transfer,
advertens in vows of austerity, a soul to gale,
as all expressions facial, pray on holy trail.
Her soul betrays just a hint of cry, her heed,
attentive to a Crucifix, a plasticity of mead,
sweet vow to him, to always, in dark, grope,
was it a certainty to be, with him to elope?
Perusing all her impudence, she withdraws,
ex-courtesan, God's covenant, unholy flaws,
now of eyes far to see, to carry any burden,
to sacrifice mundane dreams, a flesh warden.
She joins palms, men's eyes will never admire
her expression of face, a holiness not to expire
All dreams subscribe her trip to expiation
her only, of a covenant of solitude, destination.
.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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