En.Citatepedia^®.ro

To The Lady Magdalen Herbert, Of St. Mary Magdalen

HER of your name, whose fair inheritance
Bethina was, and jointure Magdalo,
An active faith so highly did advance,
That she once knew, more than the Church did know,
The Resurrection ; so much good there is
Deliver'd of her, that some Fathers be
Loth to believe one woman could do this ;
But think these Magdalens were two or three.
Increase their number, Lady, and their fame ;
To their devotion add your innocence ;
Take so much of th' example as of the name,
The latter half ; and in some recompense,
That they did harbour Christ Himself, a guest,
Harbour these hymns, to His dear Name address'd.

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

Sonnet Cycle For Lady Magdalen

Her of your name, whose fair inheritance
Bethina was, and jointure Magdalo:
An active faith so highly did advance,
That she once knew, more than the Church did know,
The Resurrection; so much good there is
Deliver'd of her, that some Fathers be
Loth to believe one Woman could do this;
But think these Magdalens were two or three.
Increase their number, Lady, and their fame:
To their Devotion, add your Innocence;
Take so much of th'example, as of the name;
The latter half; and in some recompence
That they did harbour Christ himself, a Guest,
Harbour these Hymns, to his dear name addresst.

1. La Corona

Deigne at my hands this crown of prayer and praise,
Weav'd in my low devout melancholie,
Thou which of good, hast, yea art treasury,
All changing unchang'd Antient of dayes;
But doe not, with vile crowne of fraile bayes,
Reward my muses white sincerity,
But what thy thorny crowne gain'd, that give mee,
The ends of Glory, which doth flower alwayes;
The ends crowne our workes, but thou crown'st our ends,
For, at our end begins our endlesse rest;
The first last end, now zealously possest,
With a strong sober thirst, my soule attends.
'Tis time that heart and voice be lifted high,
Salvation to all that will is nigh.

2. Annunciation

Salvation to all that will is nigh;
That All, which alwayes is All every where,
Which cannot die, yet cannot chuse but die,
Loe, faithfull Virgin, yeelds himselfe to lye
In prison in thy wombe; and though he there
Can take no sinne, nor thou give, yet he'will weare
Taken from thence, flesh, which deaths force may trie.
Ere by the spheares time was created, thou
Wast in his minde, who is thy Sonne, and Brother;
Whom thou conceiv'st, conceiv'd; yea thou art now
Thy Makers maker, and thy Fathers mother;
Thou'hast light in darke; and shutst in little roome,
Immensity cloystered in thy deare wombe.

3. Nativitie

Immensity cloystered in thy deare wombe,
Now leaves his welbelov'd imprisonment,
There he hath made himselfe to his intent
Weake enough, now into our world to come;
But Oh, for thee, for him, hath th'Inne no roome?
Yet lay him in this stall, and from the Orient,
Starres, and wisemen will travell to prevent
Th'effect of Herods jealous generall doome.
Seest thou, my Soule, with thy faiths eyes, how he
Which fils all place, yet none hold him, doth lye?
Was not his pity towrds thee wondrous high,
That would have need to be pittied by thee?
Kisse him, and with him into Egypt goe,
With his kinde mother, who partakes thy woe.

4. Temple

With his kinde mother who partakes thy woe,
Joseph turne backe; see where your child doth sit,
Blowing, yea blowing out those sparks of wit,
Which himselfe on the Doctors did bestow;
The Word but lately could not speake, and loe
It sodenly speakes wonders, whence comes it,
That all which was, and all which should be writ,
A shallow seeming child, should deeply know?
His Godhead was not soule to his manhood,
Nor had time mellowed him to this ripenesse,
But as for one which hath a long taske, 'tis good,
With the Sunne to beginne his businesse,
He in his ages morning thus began
By miracles exceeding power of man.

5. Crucifying

By miracles exceeding power of man,
Hee faith in some, envie in some begat,
For, what weake spirits admire, ambitious, hate;
In both affections many to him ran,
But Oh! the worst are most, they will and can,
Alas, and do, unto the immaculate,
Whose creature Fate is, now prescribe a Fate,
Measuring selfe-lifes infinity to a span,
Nay to an inch. Loe, where condemned hee
Beares his owne crosse, with paine, yet by and by
When it beares him, he must beare more and die.
Now thou art lifted up, draw mee to thee,
And at thy death giving such liberall dole,
Moyst, with one drop of thy blood, my dry soule.

6. Resurrection

Moyst, with one drop of thy blood, my dry soule.
Shall (though she now be in extreme degree
Too stony hard, and yet to fleshly,) bee
Freed by that drop, from being starv'd, hard or foule,
And life, by this death abled, shall controule
Death, whom thy death slue; nor shall to mee
Feare of first or last death, bring miserie,
If in thy little booke my name thou enroule,
Flesh in that long sleep is not putrified,
But made that there, of which and for which 'twas;
Nor can by other meanes be glorified.
May then sinnes sleep, and deaths soone from me passe,
That wak't from both, I againe risen may
Salute the last, and everlasting day.

7. Ascention

Salute the last, and everlasting day,
Joy at the uprising of this Sunne, and Sonne,
Yee whose just teares, or tribulation
Have purely washt, or burnt your drossie clay;
Behold the Highest, parting hence away,
Lightens the darke clouds, which hee treads upon,
Nor doth hee by ascending, show alone,
But first hee, and hee first enters the way.
O strong Ramme, which hast batter'd heaven for mee,
Mild Lambe, which with thy blood, hast mark'd the path;
Bright Torch, which shin'st that I the way may see
Oh, with thy owne blood quench thy owne just wrath,
And if thy holy Spirit, my Muse did raise,
Deigne at my hands this crown of prayer and praise.

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

Devotion

If I am right
If I can be
Constant and faithful
Youll find me
In my devotion
In my devotion
What if you find a fault
Between my purpose and my deeds
And deem me beyond salvation
Judge me to be unworthy
Of your devotion
Of your devotion
If this be obsession deliver me
A passing infatuation deliver me
A feeling lacking in purity deliver me
A test of fidelity deliver me
Deliver me
Deliver me
What if I should find
Youre no good for me
What if I cant be strong enough
What if I cant break free
Of my devotion
Of my devotion

song performed by by Tracy Chapman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Kerosine Bay

‘Tis strange on such a peaceful day
With white clouds flying o’er,
That foreign boats are in the bay
As prisoners of war.
The Harbour, where they quietly lay;
Smiles brightly as of yore.

Where never angry shot was fired
To alter peaceful plans;
Where British lumpers worked till tired
With Yacob and with Hans,
And ‘shouted’ when their work was done
For other ‘sailormans’.

And while we think of other lands
And what is doing there,
And while we think of what red hands
May wreak in our despair –
How can the Harbour be so blue,
And the sky above so fair?

poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Gabriel's Message

The angel Gabriel from heaven came
His wings as drifted snow
His eyes as flame
From God all hail the angel said to Mary
Most highly favoured lady
Gloria
"Fear not for you shall bear a holy child
By him to God be reconciled
His name shall be Emmanuel
The long-foretold"
Most highly favoured lady
Gloria
Then gentle Mary humbly bowed her head
"To me be as it pleaseth God" she said
"My soul shall praise and magnify his Holy name"
Most highly favoured lady
Gloria
And so she said "How happy I shall be
All generations will remember me
For God has kept his promises to Israel"
Most highly favoured lady
Gloria
Of her Emmanuel the Christ was born
On Bethlehem upon that Christmas morn
And Christian folk throughout the world will ever say
Most highly favoured lady
Gloria

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

Church Bells Ring

The church bells ring merrily
their wake up call
for all those sinner to repent
the sins they committed all week.
In their Sunday best
looking smartly dressed,
they amble down to the church
and take their place on a pew.
After several hymns they sing,
the minister gives his address
of how the evils of the world
are creeping up on all of us.
How we must be always wary
in everything we do
as the devil is always waiting
just to ensnare you.
More prayers and hymns follow
and then they are on their way.
However, did they learning anything
while they were at church today,
sadly for a lot
what was said went in one ear
and went out the other,
for during the week
they follow the same path
and go about sinning again.

19 February 2007

poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Stormy Waters

(white)
Stormy waters, I cant find the harbour
Stormy water keeps me away
Stormy waters, I cant try any harder
And all I ask is to know
Im near the bay
I did it again, I let another year roll away
So I pretend that Ive got a reason to say
Im closer to having you
I never should have strayed
I wish it could
Be easier
For me to end someday
Stormy waters, I cant find the harbour
Stormy water keeps me away
Stormy waters, I cant try any harder
And all I ask is to know
Im near the bay
Whatever I did tell me would I do
The same again
If I could relive would it be the same in the end
cause everyday
Has a funny way
Of ending up so blue
I wish it could
Be easier
To get back with you
Stormy waters, I cant find the harbour
Stormy water keeps me away
Stormy waters, I cant try any harder
And all I ask is to know
Im near the bay
Stormy waters, I cant find the harbour
Stormy water keeps me away
Stormy waters, I cant try any harder
And all I ask is to know
Im near the bay

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

Coming In To Harbour

Well I dreamed I saw you sailing in upon a sleek white schooner
You were slipping over shallow water
You were coming into harbour, you were coming into harbour
With the wind in all your sails
You were carrying a cargo that was richer than riches
More gold than gold and much more real than real
New born babe in your arms and his cool blue eyes gazed up
Yes his cool eyes gazed upon a fresh world, one yet to be made
I was standing on the shoreline looking out over the sea
And I saw your white sail appearing on the horizon
I was standing on the shoreline just looking out over the sea
And I saw your white sail appearing on the horizon
You were coming into harbour, you were coming into harbour
In the bright light, the bright light, longer than the 20th century

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

The Sorrows of a Simple Bard

WHEN I tell a tale of virtue and of injured innocence,
Then my publishers and lawyers are the densest of the dense:
With the blank face of an image and the nod of keep-it-dark
And a wink of mighty meaning at their confidential clerk.

(When, Oh! tell me when shall poets cease to be misunderstood?
When, Oh! When? shall people reckon rhymers can be any good?
Do their work and pay their debts and drink their pint of beer, and then,
Look in woman’s eyes and leave them, just like ordinary men?)

“Is there literary friendship ’twix the sexes? don’t you think?”
And they wink their idiotic and exasperating wink.
“Can’t we kiss a clever woman without wanting any more?”
And their clock-work nod is only more decided than before.

But if I should hint that there’s a little woman somewhere, say,
Then the public and the law are interested straight away,
The impassive confidential gets a bright and cheerful glance—
Things are straightway on a footing that may lead to an advance.

Both are married and respected and they both are rising higher:
One’s church warden, one’s a deacon in a fashionable choir.
And the clerks have both unblemished private characters to show—
What do they know about woman? That’s what I should like to know.

(Flash of dark eyes in the moonlight, in the scrub or far afield,
Blouse-sleeves back from white arms clinging—clinging while she will not yield,
Or the fair head on your shoulder and the grey eyes moist and mild—
Weary of the strife with passion, yielding like a tired child.)

There’s my aunt; the dear old lady hints about “experience”
When I go to her for comfort with my injured innocence.
She screws up a wise expression, while she listens, for my pains—
Isn’t it an awful pity women haven’t any brains?

Now I’m serious and angry, for it isn’t any joke—
Poets have been damned for ages by such evil-minded folk.
Must we all be public blackguards? Can’t a rhymer be a man,
Spite of Byron’s silly mistress—Burns’s gawky Mary Ann?

As tame bards they will not have us, and I don’t know what they want,
There’s my publisher and lawyer, my admirers and my aunt.
Do they want a rake and a spendthrift? Look out! Tradesman trusting me!
Look out! Husbands! Fathers! Brothers! I’ll be wicked as can be!
There now.

poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Gabriel's Message

The angel Gabriel from Heaven came,
His wings as drifted snow,
His eyes as flame; 'All hail,' said he,
'Thou lowly maiden Mary,'
Most highly favoured lady, Gloria!
'For known a blessed Mother thou shalt be,
All generations laud and honour thee,
Thy Son shall be Emmanuel, by seers foretold,'
Most highly favoured lady, Gloria!
Then gentle Mary meekly bowed her head,
'To me be as it pleaseth God,' she said,
'My soul shall laud and magnify his holy name.'
Most highly favoured lady, Gloria!
Of her, Emmanuel, the Christ, was born
In Bethlehem, all on a Christmas morn,
And Christian folk throughout the world will ever say:
Most highly favoured lady, Gloria

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

It Has Come To The Time (Chiasmus)

It has come to the time
where everyone that follows Jesus Christ
must ask not
what can my faith, my church,
God do for me;
rather must ask what I can do as a follower
of Jesus Christ
for my faith, my church,
in service of Jesus Christ?

Where we must not only ask
where can I make a contribution
to them who are poor and unemployed,
but by our goodwill give food,
clothes and encouragement
to those who are poor and unemployed.

It has come to the time and place where Jesus Christ
must be the centre point of my life,
where I as a mere human being
must have Jesus Christ as the centre of everything.

This is the time where we
as followers of Jesus Christ
and of every good thing
not only must praise
integrity, honesty and sincerity as a way of life
and follow those whose lives are indicating to Him
like the compass to the pole,
like the pastor,
but where we in our own lives,
we must come to the full right,
where we as men and women must stand firmly
to that which is right, which is honest and good
like the compass needle to the pole
and by ourselves indicate the way
to Jesus Christ.

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Le Testament: Ballade: ‘Item: Donne A Ma Povre Mere

Item

This I give to my poor mother
As a prayer now, to our Mistress
- She who bore bitter pain for me,
God knows, and also much sadness -
I've no other castle or fortress,
That my body and soul can summon,
When I'm faced with life's distress,
Nor has my mother, poor woman:

Ballade

‘Lady of Heaven, earthly queen,
Empress of the infernal regions,
Receive me, a humble Christian,
To live among the chosen ones,
Though I'm worth less than anyone.
Your grace, my Lady and Mistress
Is greater than my sinfulness,
Grace without which, I tell no lie,
None deserve their blessedness.
In this faith let me live and die.

Say to your Son that I am His.
Through Him all my sins are lost:
Forgive me, as Mary Egypt was,
Or, so they say, Theophilus,
Who by your grace was still blameless,
Though he vowed the Devil a guest.
Protect me always from like excess,
Virgin, who bore, without a cry,
Christ whom we celebrate at Mass.
In this faith let me live and die.

I am a woman, poor and old,
I can neither read nor spell.
At Mass in church, here, I behold,
A painted Heaven, with harps: a Hell,
Where the damned are boiled, as well.
One gives me joy: one strikes me cold,
Grant me the joy, Great Goddess,
On whom all sinners must rely,
Fill me with faith and no slackness.
In this faith let me live and die.

V irgin, you bore, O High Princess,
I ssue, whose kingdom is endless,
L ord, who took on a littleness
L ike ours: to save us left the sky,
O ffering his lovely youth to death.
N ow, such is our Lord: such we confess:
In this faith let me live and die.

poem by François Villon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Our Lady

MOTHER of God! no lady thou:
Common woman of common earth
Our Lady ladies call thee now,
But Christ was never of gentle birth;
A common man of the common earth.

For God’s ways are not as our ways:
The noblest lady in the land
Would have given up half her days,
Would have cut off her right hand,
To bear the child that was God of the land.

Never a lady did He choose,
Only a maid of low degree,
So humble she might not refuse
The carpenter of Galilee:
A daughter of the people, she.

Out she sang the song of her heart.
Never a lady so had sung.
She knew no letters, had no art;
To all mankind, in woman’s tongue,
Hath Israelitish Mary sung.

And still for men to come she sings,
Nor shall her singing pass away.
‘He hath fillàd the hungry with good things’—
O listen, lords and ladies gay!—
‘And the rich He hath sent empty away.’

poem by Mary Elizabeth Coleridge
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Bible in Poetry: Philemon 1

Paul, a prisoner of Jesus Christ,
And his brother, Timothy writes:
To Philemon, friend and worker,
To Apphia, beloved sister,
To Archippus, fellow soldier,
To the church that meets in your home,
‘From God, our Father, grace and peace,
And from Jesus Lord, be with you.’

Thanksgiving and Prayer:

I thank my God always brothers,
And remember you in prayers,
Because about your faith, I hear,
In Jesus Lord and saints so dear.

I exhort you to share your faith,
And understand all things in Christ;
Your love has given me great joy,
And refreshed hearts of saints, ahoy!

Paul’s Plea for Onesimus:

Although in Christ, I can be bold,
And order you to do as told,
Christ Jesus’ prisoner, now man old,
Paul, I appeal to you with love,
For Onesimus, my son dear,
While I in chains, he came so near;
Although, he was useless to you,
But now, he is useful to both.

I’m sending him, who is my heart,
Although I wish he didn’t depart,
And take your place in helping me,
While I’m in chains for the Gospel.

Yet, I don’t want to do something,
Without your consent on that thing,
So that, the favor that you do
Is spontaneous and from heart true.

May be, he was away from you,
So that, you have him back for good,
Not as a slave but as brother.
He is so dear to me and you,
Both as a man and in the Lord.

Like how you consider me as
A partner, welcome him like me;
If he has done anything wrong,
Or owes you then, charge it to me.
I’ll pay it back without delay;
Refresh my heart in Christ this day.
I know you will obey my words,
And that, you’ll do more than I ask.

Prepare a guest-room for me for,
I hope to be restored to you,
In answer to your prayers all.

Fellow in Jesus, Epaphras;
Aristarchus, Mark, Luke, Demas-
My fellow-workers, send greetings!

The grace of Lord Christ Jesus be
With your spirit in ministry.

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

The Bonny Port of Sydney

The lovely Port of Sydney
Lies laughing to the sky,
The bonny Port of Sydney,
Where the ships of nations lie.
You shall never see such beauty,
Though you sail the wide world o’er,
As the sunny Port of Sydney,
As we see it from the Shore.
The shades of night are falling
On many ports of call,
But the harbour lights of Sydney
Are the grandest of them all;
Such a city set in jewels
Has ne’er been seen before
As the harbour lights of Sydney
As we see them from the Shore.

I must sail for gloomy London,
Where there are no harbour lights,
Where no sun is seen in winter,
And there are no starry nights;
And the bonny port of Sydney—
I may never see it more,
But I’ll always dream about it
As we view it from North Shore.

poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

A Knight Of The Realm

When he was young, he learnt to fight, yet not to prove his power.
He was a hero not through might, but that he would not cower.
He chose his battles not for fame, but for good reasons why,
For what good was a foolish aim if he should lose and die?

When he was young, he learnt to pray for courage and resolve.
He studied Scripture every day in order to evolve.
A man is more than flesh and bones and more than muscles, too.
More known for what his heart condones and if his word is true.

When he was young, his parents taught respect and courtesy,
So that temptations never caught the man he chose to be...
Thus years passed by and wisdom smiled and gave his spirit peace.
By faith he served, as if God's child, his good works to increase.

When he was young, Christ used him most, a champion of the Lord.
And while he travelled coast-to-coast, his fame was not ignored.
He counselled lost souls to repent, he shared God's gentle grace,
Because Christ was his one true friend, the Judge that all must face.

When he was young, he had no wife, no heirs to call his own,
Instead, he offered Christ his life, as knights serve kings alone...
The Holy Grail was like his muse, yet faith more wisdom brings...
No better king should a knight choose than Christ the King of Kings!

Denis Martindale, copyright, January 2011.

poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The doubtless faith

I harbour no doubt
About my wife’s fidelity.
You labour with faith
In the God’s efficacy.
Both of us find peace
In our day to day life.
The doubtless faith,
Though not proven, is bliss.
24.11.2010

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Flying Dutchman

Old lady with a barrow; life near ending
Standing by the harbour wall; warm wishes sending
Children on the cold sea swell ---
Not fishers of men ---
Gone to chase away the last herring:
Come empty home again.
So come all you lovers of the good life
On your supermarket run ---
Set a sail of your own devising
And be there when the dutchman comes.
Wee girl in a straw hat: from far east warring
Sad cargo of an old ship: young bodies whoring
Slow ocean hobo --- ports closed to her crew
No hope of immigration --- keep on passing through.
So come all you lovers of the good life
Your children playing in the sun ---
Set a sympathetic flag a-flying
And be there when the dutchman comes.
Death grinning like a scarecrow --- flying dutchman
Seagull pilots flown from nowhere --- try and touch one
As she slips in on the full tide
And the harbour-master yells
All hands vanished with the captain ---
No one left, the tale to tell.
So come all you lovers of the good life
Look around you, can you see?
Staring ghostly in the mirror ---
Its the dutchman you will be
..floating slowly out to sea
In a misty misery.

song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Lonely Lady #17

Lonely lady one, she run away.
And number two, she do the same.
Lady number three walk out on me
Like number four.
Whos keeping score?
Lady five, oh how she lied.
She made me pay some dues.
Six and seven, eight, nine, ten,
They really were bad news.
Oh no, theyd only break my heart.
Thats how it seems.
And then I finally came upon
A lady seventeen.
Lonely lady number seventeen,
She stayed a while.
She had the style.
Lonely lady number seventeen,
She got to be with lonely me.
Lonely, lonely lady number seventeen, yeah.
Lonely lady!
Ladies eleven, twelve and thirteen,
They came and went.
Baby, I still can hear them sayin
Its time to repent.
I turned around,
And there she was
With such a sweet surprise:
A lovin face,
Lovin smile,
And love lights in her eyes.
Lonely lady number seventeen,
You stayed a while.
You had the style.
Lonely lady number seventeen,
Come on and be
With lonely me
Oh no, when lady fourteen walked out,
Thats when I screamed.
No luck with lady fifteen
Or sweet sixteen.
But lonely lady number seventeen,
You stayed a while.
You had the style.
Lonely lady number seventeen,
Come on an be
With lonely me.
Lonely, lonely lady
Number seventeen, yeah!
Lonely lady!
She makes me feel so sociable

song performed by by Neil Diamond
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!

Burnt Hands

Back off! my dearest
for the sparkling jewel that you see
are glittering coal
that could burn your delicate hands
I beg off you, my love
stay away
for your innocence is misleading you

WHY? ? ?
asked innocence
and the questioned remained unanswered
she inquired again; no reply

equipped with faith, she stepped forward
to rescue the misplaced gem; among the burning coal
she advanced with glaring eyes-and hope
patted her shoulder-go on dear

Screamed innocence, as she touched
the gem was equally hot
as hot as any coal

Screamed innocence- I burnt my hands
I burnt my hands, dear faith
it really hurts, she turned to hope

at this ruthless sight
faith was speechless
and hope stood back, ashamed

is this my fate? she questioned
as she glanced at her blistered hands
is this my fate? ? ? ? ? -innocence wept like a child

silence there was
and then a whisper
it will soon heal, my dear
she looked up; with tear shedding eyes
she rushed to embrace hope

faith smiled to himself
O! dear dear innocent innocence
how I wish you to know
you burnt your hands but rescued gem
your fate?
is that you should not know……
for there are infinite gem
to be rescued; by you

yet, you will never know
you will never know
my dear burnt handed innocence
you will never know.

poem by Erum Khan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Hymn 26

Hope of heaven by the resurrection of Christ.

1 Pet. 1:3-5.

Blest be the everlasting God,
The Father of our Lord;
Be his abounding mercy praised,
His majesty adored.

When from the dead he raised his Son,
And called him to the sky,
He gave our souls a lively hope
That they should never die.

What though our inbred sins require
Our flesh to see the dust,
Yet as the Lord our Savior rose,
So all his followers must.

There's an inheritance divine
Reserved against that day;
'Tis uncorrupted, undefiled,
And cannot waste away.

Saints by the power of God are kept
Till the salvation come;
We walk by faith as strangers here,
Till Christ shall call us home.

poem by Isaac Watts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!