It Is Good
IN Paradise while moonbeams play'd,
Jehovah found, in slumber deep,
Adam fast sunk; He gently laid
Eve near him,--she, too, fell asleep.
There lay they now, on earth's fair shrine,
God's two most beauteous thoughts divine.--
When this He saw, He cried:--'Tis Good!!!
And scarce could move from where He stood.
No wonder, that our joy's complete
While eye and eye responsive meet,
When this blest thought of rapture moves us--
That we're with Him who truly loves us,
And if He cries:--Good, let it be!
'Tis so for both, it seems to me.
Thou'rt clasp'd within these arms of mine,
Dearest of all God's thoughts divine!
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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Book Of Parables - It Is Good
IN Paradise while moonbeams play'd,
Jehovah found, in slumber deep,
Adam fast sunk; He gently laid
Eve near him,--she, too, fell asleep.
There lay they now, on earth's fair shrine,
God's two most beauteous thoughts divine.--
When this He saw, He cried:--'Tis Good!!!
And scarce could move from where He stood.
No wonder, that our joy's complete
While eye and eye responsive meet,
When this blest thought of rapture moves us--
That we're with Him who truly loves us,
And if He cries:--Good, let it be!
'Tis so for both, it seems to me.
Thou'rt clasp'd within these arms of mine,
Dearest of all God's thoughts divine!
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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Υμνος αυμνος
O Thou whose image in the shrine
Of human spirits dwells divine;
Which from that precinct once conveyed,
To be to outer day displayed,
Doth vanish, part, and leave behind
Mere blank and void of empty mind,
Which wilful fancy seeks in vain
With casual shapes to fill again!
O Thou that in our bosom’s shrine
Dost dwell, unknown because divine!
I thought to speak, I thought to say,
‘The light is here,’ ‘behold the way,’
‘The voice was thus,’ and ‘thus the word,’
And ‘thus I saw,’ and ‘that I heard,’—
But from the lips that half essayed
The imperfect utterance fell unmade.
O Thou, in that mysterious shrine
Enthroned, as I must say, divine!
I will not frame one thought of what
Thou mayest either be or not.
I will not prate of ‘thus’ and ‘so,’
And be profane with ‘yes’ and ‘no,’
Enough that in our soul and heart
Thou, whatso’er Thou may’st be, art.
Unseen, secure in that high shrine
Acknowledged present and divine,
I will not ask some upper air,
Some future day to place Thee there;
Nor say, nor yet deny, such men
And women saw Thee thus and then:
Thy name was such, and there or here
To him or her Thou didst appear.
Do only Thou in that dim shrine,
Unknown or known, remain, divine;
There, or if not, at least in eyes
That scan the fact that round them lies,
The hand to sway, the judgment guide,
In sight and sense Thyself divide:
Be Thou but there,—in soul and heart,
I will not ask to feel Thou art.
poem by Arthur Hugh Clough
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Black 7
All felt is good here
All felt is just fine
Like a rapture waiting to dine on the divine
It moves across me and sets me free
Open oh so gently
Loss of time is felt here
Burning brick in my mind
Like a cancer growing in the minds of the divine
Don't roll me over
Cant help these things I can feel
Couldn't see them coming
But I've given into what's been given
Take a taste of what's within
You cast me over
Yet I've risen and I am real
I am the little cracked mirror
song performed by by Soil from Scars
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If Thou'lt Be Mine
If thou'lt be mine, the treasures of air,
Of earth, and sea, shall lie at thy feet;
Whatever in Fancy's eye looks fair,
Or in Hope's sweet music sounds most sweet,
Shall be ours -- if thou wilt be mine, love!
Bright flowers shall bloom wherever we rove,
A voice divine shall talk in each stream;
The stars shall look like world of love,
And this earth be all one beautiful dream
In our eyes -- if thou wilt be mine, love!
And thoughts, whose source is hidden and high,
Like streams that come from heaven-ward hills,
Shall keep our hearts, like meads, that lie
To be bathed by those eternal rills,
Ever green, if thou wilt be mine, love!
All this and more the Spirit of Love
Can breathe o'er them who feel his spells;
That heaven, which forms his home above,
He can make on earth, wherever he dwells,
As thou'lt own, -- if thou wilt be mine, love!
poem by Thomas Moore
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Olney Hymn 2: Jehovah-Jireh: The Lord Will Provide
The saints should never be dismay'd,
Nor sink in hopeless fear;
For when they least expect His aid,
The Saviour will appear.
This Abraham found: he raised the knife;
God saw, and said, 'Forbear!
Yon ram shall yield his meaner life;
Behold the victim there.'
Once David seem'd Saul's certain prey;
But hark! the foe's at hand;
Saul turns his arms another way,
To save the invaded land.
When Jonah sunk beneath the wave,
He thought to rise no more;
But God prepared a fish to save,
And bear him to the shore.
Blest proofs of power and grace divine,
That meet us in His word!
May every deep-felt care of mine
Be trusted with the Lord.
Wait for His seasonable aid,
And though it tarry, wait:
The promise may be long delay'd,
But cannot come too late.
poem by William Cowper
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Jehovah-Jireh. The Lord Will Provide
(Genesis, xxii.14)
The saints should never be dismay'd,
Nor sink in hopeless fear;
For when they least expect His aid,
The Saviour will appear.
This Abraham found: he raised the knife;
God saw, and said, "Forbear!
Yon ram shall yield his meaner life;
Behold the victim there."
Once David seem'd Saul's certain prey;
But hark! the foe's at hand;
Saul turns his arms another way,
To save the invaded land.
When Jonah sunk beneath the wave,
He thought to rise no more;
But God prepared a fish to save,
And bear him to the shore.
Blest proofs of power and grace divine,
That meet us in His word!
May every deep-felt care of mine
Be trusted with the Lord.
Wait for His seasonable aid,
And though it tarry, wait:
The promise may be long delay'd,
But cannot come too late.
poem by William Cowper
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God
THOUGHT of the Infinite--the All!
Be thou my God.
Lover Divine, and Perfect Comrade!
Waiting, content, invisible yet, but certain,
Be thou my God.
Thou--thou, the Ideal Man!
Fair, able, beautiful, content, and loving,
Complete in Body, and dilate in Spirit,
Be thou my God.
O Death--(for Life has served its turn;) 10
Opener and usher to the heavenly mansion!
Be thou my God.
Aught, aught, of mightiest, best, I see, conceive, or know,
(To break the stagnant tie--thee, thee to free, O Soul,)
Be thou my God.
Or thee, Old Cause, when'er advancing;
All great Ideas, the races' aspirations,
All that exalts, releases thee, my Soul!
All heroisms, deeds of rapt enthusiasts,
Be ye my Gods! 20
Or Time and Space!
Or shape of Earth, divine and wondrous!
Or shape in I myself--or some fair shape, I, viewing, worship,
Or lustrous orb of Sun, or star by night:
Be ye my Gods.
poem by Walt Whitman
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My Thoughts
Thought in the eyes,
The ears.
Thought in mind,
The brain,
Thought in heart,
The soul.
Great thought is great
when it becomes great deeds.
With my thoughts within
Building my world within
Learning with thought;
Is great learning wisdom.
Learning without thought,
Is opportunity lost.
Thought for others
Thought for God
Thought for good
Thought for God’s blessing
Thoughts teach me,
Thoughts educate me,
Thoughts clarify me,
Thoughts enlighten me.
Thoughts make me wise
Thoughts make me patience
Thoughts make me trust others
Thoughts make me clam.
Thoughts before act
Is smart and wise
Act before thoughts
Is stupid and foolish
That’s my thoughts
They make thinking clear
They make belief deepen
They make confidence high.
In thoughts, my world
In my world, make my thoughts.
In thoughts, my words
In my words, make my speech
It’s my thoughts count
Counting my thoughts
To endless counting thoughts
Thinking the thoughts endlessly
My thoughts and thoughts again.
poem by Lawrence Hiung
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Cain And Abel
When Adam fell he quickly lost
God's image, which he once possessed:
See All our nature since could boast
In Cain, his first-born Son, expressed!
The sacrifice the Lord ordained
In type of the Redeemer's blood,
Self-righteous reas'ning Cain disdained,
And thought his own first-fruits as good.
Yet rage and envy filled his mind,
When, with a fallen, downcast look,
He saw his brother favor find,
Who God's appointed method took.
By Cain's own hand, good Abel died,
Because the Lord approved his faith;
And, when his blood for vengeance cried,
He vainly thought to hide his death.
Such was the wicked murd'rer Cain,
And such by nature still are we,
Until by grace we're born again,
Malicious, blind and proud, as he.
Like him the way of grace we slight,
And in our own devices trust;
Call evil good, and darkness light,
And hate and persecute the just.
The saints, in every age and place,
Have found this history fulfilled;
The numbers all our thoughts surpass
Of Abels, whom the Cains have killed!
Thus Jesus fell - but O! his blood
Far better things than Abel's cries:
Obtains his murd'rers peace with God,
And gains them mansions in the skies.
poem by John Newton
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A wish from boy
How can I forget you on this auspicious day?
On this very date you brightened the day
You came on earth to show me the way
You are high hope and bright ray
I want to convey my deep feeling
Are you really in for it and willing?
I shall remain forever by your side
We may play together and go for ride
You did what all you could do
You insisted for what was true
You fought for me for what was due
You came to my help and tried to rescue
I shall remember your kind company
You were always eager to come with me and accompany
There were friends so many
You were like star and incomparable with any
Shall I wish for many more happy years?
All good advices pass through your ears
All success and fame may come to your way
You stay supreme and have your sway
It is little wish from your small friend
Friendship may flourish and not to an end
I wish to remain as close as ever
Your memory and company may stay forever
You never did any harm with malign intention
You stood for me with all its prevention
You bore all burnt and never mentioned
Your action was correct and never questioned
I was safe and secure under your arm
No one could cause any harm
Your maintained relation with all its warmth
I was my source with complete strength
All divine forces too favor true friendship
There is strength in true companionship
It can anchor you to destiny with care
Such bond can never be found anywhere
You appeared to apostle of peace
How you could maintain it at ease?
You were at full command with any move
You were worth and it has been proved
I wish all should get friend like you
You remained at pain but no one got clue
You laughed at any good or bad suggestion
Your integrity was never at doubt or out of question
Only lucky may find good friends
He may help to reach to an quarter ends
What else we can expect or hope for?
At least once he is there all could go well for sure
I shall pray to God for such friends in life
They may not bee seen I our entire life
They may remain with us for reasonable period
Everything moves on smoothly without conditions laid
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Long Did I Toil
Long did I toil, and knew no earthly rest,
Far did I rove, and found no certain home;
At last I sought them in His sheltering breast,
Who opes His arms, and bids the weary come:
With Him I found a home, a rest divine,
And since then I am His, and He is mine.
The good I have is from His stores supplied,
The ill is only what He deems the best;
He for my Friend, I’m rich with naught beside,
And poor without Him, though of all possessed:
Changes may come, I take, or I resign,
Content, while I am His, while He is mine.
Whate’er may change, in Him no change is seen,
A glorious Sun that wanes not nor declines;
Above the clouds and storms He walks serene,
And on His people’s inward darkness shines:
All may depart—I fret not, nor repine,
While I my Savior’s am, while He is mine.
While here, alas! I know but half His love,
But half discern Him, and but half adore;
But when I meet Him in the realms above,
I hope to love Him better, praise Him more,
And feel, and tell, amid the choir divine,
How fully I am His, and He is mine.
poem by Henry Francis Lyte
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The Visit
FAIN had I to-day surprised my mistress,
But soon found I that her door was fasten'd.
Yet I had the key safe in my pocket,
And the darling door I open'd softly!
In the parlour found I not the maiden,
Found the maiden not within her closet,
Then her chamber-door I gently open'd,
When I found her wrapp'd in pleasing slumbers,
Fully dress'd, and lying on the sofa.
While at work had slumber stolen o'er her;
For her knitting and her needle found I
Resting in her folded bands so tender;
And I placed myself beside her softly,
And held counsel, whether I should wake her.
Then I looked upon the beauteous quiet
That on her sweet eyelids was reposing
On her lips was silent truth depicted,
On her cheeks had loveliness its dwelling,
And the pureness of a heart unsullied
In her bosom evermore was heaving.
All her limbs were gracefully reclining,
Set at rest by sweet and godlike balsam.
Gladly sat I, and the contemplation
Held the strong desire I felt to wake her
Firmer and firmer down, with mystic fetters.
"Oh, thou love," methought, "I see that slumber,
Slumber that betrayeth each false feature,
Cannot injure thee, can nought discover
That could serve to harm thy friend's soft feelings.
"Now thy beauteous eyes are firmly closed,
That, when open, form mine only rapture.
And thy sweet lips are devoid of motion,
Motionless for speaking or for kissing;
Loosen'd are the soft and magic fetters
Of thine arms, so wont to twine around me,
And the hand, the ravishing companion
Of thy sweet caresses, lies unmoving.
Were my thoughts of thee but based on error,
Were the love I bear thee self-deception,
I must now have found it out, since Amor
Is, without his bandage, placed beside me."
Long I sat thus, full of heartfelt pleasure
At my love, and at her matchless merit;
She had so delighted me while slumbering,
That I could not venture to awake her.
Then I on the little table near her
Softly placed two oranges, two roses;
Gently, gently stole I from her chamber.
When her eyes the darling one shall open,
She will straightway spy these colourd presents,
And the friendly gift will view with wonder,
For the door will still remain unopen'd.
If perchance I see to-night the angel,
How will she rejoice,--reward me doubly
For this sacrifice of fond affection!
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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Sonnet: Poetry's Divine
0 hallowed be the mind in solitude!
That holds the pen to rhyme, without fine wine;
His joys and woes caused by the multitude,
For Prose is earthly, Poetry's divine!
Great is the mind that talks from heart to heart,
And praises to his pen which moves as swift;
And within moments, founded is his art,
By thoughts that flash, before his bark's adrift.
Oh, what adroitness marks his mighty pen!
That scribbles fast the thoughts that seize on him?
Though all the while quite passive stays his ken,
Allowing heart to overflow its brim.
0 Prose is earthly, Poetry's divine!
The latter inebriates more than wine.
poem by John Celes
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Ganymede
How, in the light of morning,
Round me thou glowest,
Spring, thou beloved one!
With thousand-varying loving bliss
The sacred emotions
Born of thy warmth eternal
Press 'gainst my bosom,
Thou endlessly fair one!
Could I but hold thee clasp'd
Within mine arms!
Ah! upon thy bosom
Lay I, pining,
And then thy flowers, thy grass,
Were pressing against my heart.
Thou coolest the burning
Thirst of my bosom,
Beauteous morning breeze!
The nightingale then calls me
Sweetly from out of the misty vale.
I come, I come!
Whither? Ah, whither?
Up, up, lies my course.
While downward the clouds
Are hovering, the clouds
Are bending to meet yearning love.
For me,
Within thine arms
Upwards!
Embraced and embracing!
Upwards into thy bosom,
Oh Father all-loving!
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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The Son's Sorrow
FROM THE ICELANDIC.
The King has asked of his son so good,
“Why art thou hushed and heavy of mood?
O fair it is to ride abroad.
Thou playest not, and thou laughest not;
All thy good game is clean forgot.”
“Sit thou beside me, father dear,
And the tale of my sorrow shalt thou hear.
Thou sendedst me unto a far-off land,
And gavest me into a good Earl’s hand.
Now had this good Earl daughters seven,
The fairest of maidens under heaven.
One brought me my meat when I should dine,
One cut and sewed my raiment fine.
One washed and combed my yellow hair,
And one I fell to loving there.
Befell it on so fair a day,
We minded us to sport and play.
Down in a dale my horse bound I,
Bound on my saddle speedily.
Bright red she was as the flickering flame
When to my saddle-bow she came.
Beside my saddle-bow she stood,
‘To flee with thee to my heart were good.’
Kind was my horse and good to aid,
My love upon his back I laid.
We gat us from the garth away,
And none was ware of us that day.
But as we rode along the sand
Behold a barge lay by the land.
So in that boat did we depart,
And rowed away right glad at heart.
When we came to the dark wood and the shade
To raise the tent my true-love bade.
Three sons my true-love bore me there,
And syne she died who was so dear.
A grave I wrought her with my sword,
With my fair shield the mould I poured.
First in the mould I laid my love,
Then all my sons her breast above.
And I without must lie alone;
So from the place I gat me gone.”
No man now shall stand on his feet
To love that love, to woo that sweet:
O fair it is to ride abroad.
poem by William Morris
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Fair Helen
I wish I were where Helen lies;
Night and day on me she cries;
Oh that I were where Helen lies
On fair Kirconnell lea!
Curst be the heart that thought the thought,
And curst the hand that fired the shot,
When in my arms burd Helen dropt,
And died to succour me!
O think na but my heart was sair
When my Love dropt down and spak nae mair!
I laid her down wi' meikle care
On fair Kirconnell lea.
As I went down the water-side,
None but my foe to be my guide,
None but my foe to be my guide,
On fair Kirconnell lea;
I lighted down my sword to draw,
I hackèd him in pieces sma',
I hackèd him in pieces sma',
For her sake that died for me.
O Helen fair, beyond compare,
I'll make a garland of thy hair
Shall bind my heart for evermair
Until the day I die.
Oh that I were where Helen lies!
Night and day on me she cries;
Out of my bed she bids me rise,
Says, "Haste and come to me!"
O Helen fair! O Helen chaste!
If I were with thee I were blest,
Where thou lies low and takes thy rest
On fair Kirconnell lea.
I wish my grave were growing green,
A winding-sheet drawn ower my een,
And I in Helen's arms lyíng,
On fair Kirconnell lea.
I wish I were where Helen lies;
Night and day on me she cries;
And I am weary of the skies,
Since my Love died for me.
All The Things You Are
You are the promised kiss of springtime
That makes the lonely winter seem long
You are the breathless hush of evening
That trembles on the brink of a lovely song
You are the angel glow that lights a star
The dearest things I know are what you are
Some day my happy arms will hold you
And some day Ill know that moment divine
When all the things you are, are mine
You are the angel glow that lights a star
The dearest things I know are what you are
Some day my happy arms will hold you
And some day Ill know that moment divine
When all the things you are, are mine
song performed by by Michael Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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All That Jazz
You are the promised kiss of springtime
That makes the lonely winter seem long
You are the breathless hush of evening
That trembles on the brink of a lovely song
You are the angel glow that lights a star
The dearest things I know are what you are
Some day my happy arms will hold you
And some day I'll know that moment divine
When all the things you are, are mine
You are the angel glow that lights a star
The dearest things I know are what you are
Some day my happy arms will hold you
And some day I'll know that moment divine
When all the things you are, are mine
song performed by by Ella Fitzgerald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fair Helen
I wish I were where Helen lies;
Night and day on me she cries;
Oh that I were where Helen lies
On fair Kirconnell lea!
Curst be the heart that thought the thought,
And curst the hand that fired the shot,
When in my arms burd Helen dropt,
And died to succour me!
O think na but my heart was sair
When my Love dropt down and spak nae mair!
I laid her down wi' meikle care
On fair Kirconnell lea.
As I went down the water-side,
None but my foe to be my guide,
None but my foe to be my guide,
On fair Kirconnell lea;
I lighted down my sword to draw,
I hackèd him in pieces sma',
I hackèd him in pieces sma',
For her sake that died for me.
O Helen fair, beyond compare,
I'll make a garland of thy hair
Shall bind my heart for evermair
Until the day I die.
Oh that I were where Helen lies!
Night and day on me she cries;
Out of my bed she bids me rise,
Says, "Haste and come to me!"
O Helen fair! O Helen chaste!
If I were with thee I were blest,
Where thou lies low and takes thy rest
On fair Kirconnell lea.
I wish my grave were growing green,
A winding-sheet drawn ower my een,
And I in Helen's arms lyíng,
On fair Kirconnell lea.
I wish I were where Helen lies;
Night and day on me she cries;
And I am weary of the skies,
Since my Love died for me.
poem by Anonymous Americas
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Rapture -- To Laura
From earth I seem to wing my flight,
And sun myself in Heaven's pure light,
When thy sweet gaze meets mine
I dream I quaff ethereal dew,
When my own form I mirrored view
In those blue eyes divine!
Blest notes from Paradise afar,
Or strains from some benignant star
Enchant my ravished ear:
My Muse feels then the shepherd's hour
When silvery tones of magic power
Escape those lips so dear!
Young Loves around thee fan their wings--
Behind, the maddened fir-tree springs,
As when by Orpheus fired:
The poles whirl round with swifter motion,
When in the dance, like waves o'er Ocean,
Thy footsteps float untired!
Thy look, if it but beam with love,
Could make the lifeless marble move,
And hearts in rocks enshrine:
My visions to reality
Will turn, if, Laura, in thine eye
I read--that thou art mine!
poem by Friedrich Schiller
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