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St. Barnabas

The world's a room of sickness, where each heart
Knows its own anguish and unrest;
The truest wisdom there, and noblest art,
Is his, who skills of comfort best;
Whom by the softest step and gentlest tone
Enfeebled spirits own,
And love to raise the languid eye,
When, like an angel's wing, they feel him fleeting by:-

FEEL only--for in silence gently gliding
Fain would he shun both ear and sight,
'Twixt Prayer and watchful Love his heart dividing,
A nursing-father day and night.
Such were the tender arms, where cradled lay,
In her sweet natal day,
The Church of JESUS; such the love
He to His chosen taught for His dear widowed Dove.

Warmed underneath the Comforter's safe wing
They spread th' endearing warmth around:
Mourners, speed here your broken hearts to bring,
Here healing dews and balms abound:
Here are soft hands that cannot bless in vain,
By trial taught your pain:
Here loving hearts, that daily know
The heavenly consolations they on you bestow.

Sweet thoughts are theirs, that breathe serenest calms,
Of holy offerings timely paid,
Of fire from heaven to bless their votive alms
And passions on GOD'S altar laid.
The world to them is closed, and now they shine
With rays of love divine,
Through darkest nooks of this dull earth
Pouring, in showery times, their glow of "quiet mirth."

New hearts before their Saviour's feet to lay,
This is their first, their dearest joy:
Their next from heart to heart to clear the way
For mutual love without alloy:
Never so blest as when in JESUS' roll
They write some hero-soul,
More pleased upon his brightening road
To wait, than if their own with all his radiance glowed.

O happy spirits, marked by God and man
Their messages of love to bear,
What though long since in Heaven your brows began,
The genial amarant wreath to wear,
And in th' eternal leisure of calm love
Ye banquet there above;
Yet in your sympathetic heart
We and our earthly griefs may ask and hope a part.

Comfort's true sons! amid the thoughts of down
That strew your pillow of repose,
Sure 'tis one joy to muse, how ye unknown
By sweet remembrance soothe our woes;
And how the spark ye lit, of heavenly cheer,
Lives in our embers here,
Where'er the cross is borne with smiles,
Or lightened secretly by Love's endearing wiles:

Where'er one Levite in the temple keeps
The watch-fire of his midnight prayer,
Or issuing thence, the eyes of mourners steeps
In heavenly balm, fresh gathered there;
Thus saints, that seem to die in earth's rude strife,
Only win double life:
They have but left our weary ways
To live in memory here, in Heaven by love and praise.

poem by John Keble
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Good Friday

Is it not strange, the darkest hour
That ever dawned on sinful earth
Should touch the heart with softer power
For comfort than an angel's mirth?
That to the Cross the mourner's eye should turn
Sooner than where the stars of Christmas burn?

Sooner than where the Easter sun
Shines glorious on yon open grave,
And to and fro the tidings run,
"Who died to heal, is risen to save?"
Sooner than where upon the Saviour's friends
The very Comforter in light and love descends?

Yet so it is: for duly there
The bitter herbs of earth are set,
Till tempered by the Saviour's prayer,
And with the Saviour's life-blood wet,
They turn to sweetness, and drop holy balm,
Soft as imprisoned martyr's deathbed calm.

All turn to sweet--but most of all
That bitterest to the lip of pride,
When hopes presumptuous fade and fall,
Or Friendship scorns us, duly tried,
Or Love, the flower that closes up for fear
When rude and selfish spirits breathe too near.

Then like a long-forgotten strain
Comes sweeping o'er the heart forlorn
What sunshine hours had taught in vain
Of JESUS suffering shame and scorn,
As in all lowly hearts he suffers still,
While we triumphant ride and have the world at will.

His pierced hands in vain would hide
His face from rude reproachful gaze,
His ears are open to abide
The wildest storm the tongue can raise,
He who with one rough word, some early day,
Their idol world and them shall sweep for aye away.

But we by Fancy may assuage
The festering sore by Fancy made,
Down in some lonely hermitage
Like wounded pilgrims safely laid,
Where gentlest breezes whisper souls distressed,
That Love yet lives, and Patience shall find rest.

O! shame beyond the bitterest thought
That evil spirit ever framed,
That sinners know what Jesus wrought,
Yet feel their haughty hearts untamed -
That souls in refuge, holding by the Cross,
Should wince and fret at this world's little loss.

Lord of my heart, by Thy last cry,
Let not Thy blood on earth be spent -
Lo, at Thy feet I fainting lie,
Mine eyes upon Thy wounds are bent,
Upon Thy streaming wounds my weary eyes
Wait like the parched earth on April skies.

Wash me, and dry these bitter tears,
O let my heart no further roam,
'Tis Thine by vows, and hopes, and fears.
Long since--O call Thy wanderer home;
To that dear home, safe in Thy wounded side,
Where only broken hearts their sin and shame may hide.

poem by John Keble
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Come to Me, Sunbeam! I'm Dying

Come to me, Sunbeam! I'm dying
Uncared for, distress'd and alone.
Even now the pale angel with icy hand seizes
The heart that throbb'd along with your own.
Darling! delay not; for enginewheel stay not;
But wing'd by love, fly to my side:
Swift as the morning-beams fly, or I may not
Your coming abide.

Bring the calm joy of your presence--
To a chill'd heart the warmth of your love;
With a glance of these dear eyes this darkness illumine,
Until there comes light from above.
Eyes that shine clearest, with language sincerest,
Come speak me forgiven and bless'd:
Would you refuse me, my chosen! my dearest!
This dying request?

Still for your footsteps I listen;
Each momemt I listen and long
For the voice that might break this dead silence with music
As sweet as an angelic song.
Can you not hear me? Oh will you not cheer me,
At least with one loving adieu?
Yield me how can I when you are not near me?
I'm dying for you.

One in this world, and one only,
Could soothe me, could comfort me now;
Charm'd away were my anguish and you here beside me,
Your gentle hand laid on my brow.
Come, I entrust you! If once I might meet you--
Sweet Sunbeam! what doubts you dispel!
Clasp my hand; kiss me, love! so will I greet you
In Heaven ... Farewell!

poem by Henry Clay Work
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Fourth Sunday After Easter

My Saviour, can it ever be
That I should gain by losing Thee?
The watchful mother tarries nigh,
Though sleep have closed her infant's eye;
For should he wake, and find her gone.
She knows she could not bear his moan.
But I am weaker than a child,
And Thou art more than mother dear;
Without Thee Heaven were but a wild;
How can I live without Thee here!

"'Tis good for you, that I should go,
"You lingering yet awhile below;" -
'Tis Thine own gracious promise, Lord!
Thy saints have proved the faithful word,
When heaven's bright boundless avenue
Far opened on their eager view,
And homeward to Thy Father's throne,
Still lessening, brightening on their sight,
Thy shadowy car went soaring on;
They tracked Thee up th' abyss of light.

Thou bidd'st rejoice; they dare not mourn,
But to their home in gladness turn,
Their home and God's, that favoured place,
Where still He shines on Abraham's race,
In prayers and blessings there to wait
Like suppliants at their Monarch's gate,
Who bent with bounty rare to aid
The splendours of His crowning day,
Keeps back awhile His largess, made
More welcome for that brief delay:

In doubt they wait, but not unblest;
They doubt not of their Master's rest,
Nor of the gracious will of Heaven -
Who gave His Son, sure all has given -
But in ecstatic awe they muse
What course the genial stream may choose,
And far and wide their fancies rove,
And to their height of wonder strain,
What secret miracle of love
Should make their Saviour's going gain.

The days of hope and prayer are past,
The day of comfort dawns at last,
The everlasting gates again
Roll back, and, lo! a royal train -
From the far depth of light once more
The floods of glory earthward pour:
They part like shower-drops in mid air,
But ne'er so soft fell noon-tide shower,
Nor evening rainbow gleamed so fair
To weary swains in parched bower.

Swiftly and straight each tongue of flame
Through cloud and breeze unwavering came,
And darted to its place of rest
On some meek brow of Jesus blest.
Nor fades it yet, that living gleam,
And still those lambent lightnings stream;
Where'er the Lord is, there are they;
In every heart that gives them room,
They light His altar every day,
Zeal to inflame, and vice consume.

Soft as the plumes of Jesus' Dove
They nurse the soul to heavenly love;
The struggling spark of good within,
Just smothered in the strife of sin,
They quicken to a timely glow,
The pure flame spreading high and low.
Said I, that prayer and hope were o'er?
Nay, blessed Spirit! but by Thee
The Church's prayer finds wings to soar,
The Church's hope finds eyes to see.

Then, fainting soul, arise and sing;
Mount, but be sober on the wing;
Mount up, for Heaven is won by prayer,
Be sober, for thou art not there;
Till Death the weary spirit free,
Thy God hath said, 'Tis good for thee
To walk by faith and not by sight:
Take it on trust a little while;
Soon shalt thou read the mystery right
In the full sunshine of His smile.

Or if thou yet more knowledge crave,
Ask thine own heart, that willing slave
To all that works thee woe or harm
Shouldst thou not need some mighty charm
To win thee to thy Saviour's side,
Though He had deigned with thee to bide?
The Spirit must stir the darkling deep,
The Dove must settle on the Cross,
Else we should all sin on or sleep
With Christ in sight, turning our gain to loss.

poem by John Keble
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Churching Of Women

Is there, in bowers of endless spring,
One known from all the seraph band
By softer voice, by smile and wing
More exquisitely bland!
Here let him speed: to-day this hallowed air
Is fragrant with a mother's first and fondest prayer.

Only let Heaven her fire impart,
No richer incense breathes on earth:
"A spouse with all a daughter's heart,"
Fresh from the perilous birth,
To the great Father lifts her pale glad eye,
Like a reviving flower when storms are hushed on high.

Oh, what a treasure of sweet thought
Is here! what hope and joy and love
All in one tender bosom brought,
For the all-gracious Dove
To brood o'er silently, and form for Heaven
Each passionate wish and dream to dear affection given.

Her fluttering heart, too keenly blest,
Would sicken, but she leans on Thee,
Sees Thee by faith on Mary's breast,
And breathes serene and free.
Slight tremblings only of her veil declare
Soft answers duly whispered to each soothing prayer.

We are too weak, when Thou dost bless,
To bear the joy--help, Virgin-born!
By Thine own mother's first caress,
That waked Thy natal morn!
Help, by the unexpressive smile, that made
A Heaven on earth around this couch where Thou wast laid.

poem by John Keble
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Our Sweet Love

I thought about a summer day
And how the time just floats away
Pretty things like incense and flowers
I wanna make them part of
Our sweet love
Could last forever
(our sweet love)
Our sweet love
Could last forever
I thought about a winter night
And how Id like to hold you tight
Candlelight the warmth of a fire
We could make them part of
Our sweet love
Honey its heaven
(our sweet love)
Our sweet love
Could last forever
Sweet love sweet love
Like a child with his new toy
My heart is filled with joy for
Our sweet love
Honey its heaven
(our sweet love)
Our sweet love
Lord knows I love her so
I feel it down inside my soul
A precious love like this can flower
Theres nothing in this world like
Our sweet love
Should last forever
(our sweet love)
Our sweet love
Could last forever
Our sweet love
Could last forever
Our sweet love
Could last forever
(our sweet love)
Oh

song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Holy Communion

O God of Mercy, God of Might,
How should pale sinners bear the sight,
If, as Thy power in surely here,
Thine open glory should appear?

For now Thy people are allowed
To scale the mount and pierce the cloud,
And Faith may feed her eager view
With wonders Sinai never knew.

Fresh from th' atoning sacrifice
The world's Creator bleeding lies.
That man, His foe, by whom He bled,
May take Him for his daily bread.

O agony of wavering thought
When sinners first so near are brought!
"It is my Maker--dare I stay?
My Saviour--dare I turn away?"

Thus while the storm is high within
'Twixt love of Christ and fear of sin,
Who can express the soothing charm,
To feel Thy kind upholding arm,

My mother Church? and hear thee tell
Of a world lost, yet loved so well,
That He, by whom the angels live,
His only Son for her would give?

And doubt we yet? Thou call'st again;
A lower still, a sweeter strain;
A voice from Mercy's inmost shrine,
This very breath of Love divine.

Whispering it says to each apart,
"Come unto Me, thou trembling heart;"
And we must hope, so sweet the tone,
The precious words are all our own.

Hear them, kind Saviour--hear Thy Spouse
Low at Thy feet renew her vows;
Thine own dear promise she would plead
For us her true though fallen seed.

She pleads by all Thy mercies, told
Thy chosen witnesses of old,
Love's heralds sent to man forgiven,
One from the Cross, and one from Heaven.

This, of true penitents the chief,
To the lost spirit brings relief,
Lifting on high th' adored Name:-
"Sinners to save, Christ, Jesus came."

That, dearest of Thy bosom Friends,
Into the wavering heart descends:-
"What? fallen again? yet cheerful rise.
Thine Intercessor never dies."

The eye of Faith, that waxes bright
Each moment by thine altar's light,
Sees them e'en now: they still abide
In mystery kneeling at our side:

And with them every spirit blest,
From realms of triumph or of rest,
From Him who saw creation's morn,
Of all Thine angels eldest born,

To the poor babe, who died to-day,
Take part in our thanksgiving lay,
Watching the tearful joy and calm,
While sinners taste Thine heavenly balm.

Sweet awful hour! the only sound
One gentle footstep gliding round,
Offering by turns on Jesus' part
The Cross to every hand and heart.

Refresh us, Lord, to hold it fast;
And when Thy veil is drawn at last,
Let us depart where shadows cease,
With words of blessing and of peace.

poem by John Keble
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Holy Baptism

Where is it mothers learn their love? -
In every Church a fountain springs
O'er which th' Eternal Dove
Hovers out softest wings.

What sparkles in that lucid flood
Is water, by gross mortals eyed:
But seen by Faith, 'tis blood
Out of a dear Friend's side.

A few calm words of faith and prayer,
A few bright drops of holy dew,
Shall work a wonder there
Earth's charmers never knew.

O happy arms, where cradled lies,
And ready for the Lord's embrace,
That precious sacrifice,
The darling of His grace!

Blest eyes, that see the smiling gleam
Upon the slumbering features glow,
When the life-giving stream
Touches the tender brow!

Or when the holy cross is signed,
And the young soldier duly sworn,
With true and fearless mind
To serve the Virgin-born.

But happiest ye, who sealed and blest
Back to your arms your treasure take,
With Jesus' mark impressed
To nurse for Jesus' sake:

To whom--as if in hallowed air
Ye knelt before some awful shrine -
His innocent gestures wear
A meaning half divine:

By whom Love's daily touch is seen
In strengthening form and freshening hue,
In the fixed brow serene,
The deep yet eager view. -

Who taught thy pure and even breath
To come and go with such sweet grace?
Whence thy reposing Faith,
Though in our frail embrace?

O tender gem, and full of Heaven!
Not in the twilight stars on high,
Not in moist flowers at even
See we our God so nigh.

Sweet one, make haste and know Him too,
Thine own adopting Father love,
That like thine earliest dew
Thy dying sweets may prove.

poem by John Keble
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mom

You hold me in your arms, first time,
Warm tears were rolling down on your cheek,
Drops of happiness betrayed your infinite ecstasy,
And "two hearts-one" then began to beat.

I was safe, I was not afraid,
Because I felt your love for me,
I understood right then that you are my Mom,
And I knew how long I will live you'll be my Mommy!

On so many late nights, you watched me
Whispering with love... "You'll be fine!"
You gave me comfort in pain and sorrow,
You, Mom, were always by my side.

You were the first sound that I said,
Which then opened a path to the whole range,
The dearest, the most beloved word,
The precious word of "Mother" that will never change.

You were there with me when I took the first step,
You have inspired me with power and will,
So much love I felt in your voice,
You taught me when to walk and when to stay still.

Hand in hand you walked with me on my first day of school,
The first book that we read together, now it's in the past,
Loving and tender you corrected my mistakes,
I still remember how you told me "You're the best!"

You taught me to say what I think and what I feel,
You told me; never, never lie,
And daily to live for Jesus,
Without fear to always watch the sky.

You taught me to comfort others with love,
And to spread the Light all around me,
You told me that I am a child of God,
You taught me to believe in Eternity!

So many precious things you planted in me,
Today I thank Jesus, Mother for You,
You gave me life and taught me how to live it,
Today, tomorrow, always my dear Mother; I Love You!

poem by Marius Alexandru (May 2020)
Submitted by anonym
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Cradled In His Love

When the world throws at me it's wretched darts,
And the world tears at the soft under belly of my heart.
And all communication seems rendered from above,
I'm reminded of the saying, Cradled in his love.

For you see in deed tis true,
Cling tightly fellow traveler, this phrase will see you through.
When each day is as darkest night,
This phrase will remind of the Saviors loving light.

Cradled in His love, wonderful place to be,
My body maybe racked with illness yet I am free.
Bars may hold me in my place; my only light comes from God above.
Waves may be hurling me about, still I'm cradled in His love.

Much I have done as I have trod this earth,
Much of some value, some of little worth.
As I would mourn the "little worth", I see a sweet white dove,
That reminds the, "Son you are cradled in my love".

Just as the Savior His end could see,
Was cradled in His love, the same can be said of me.
Before Pilate, and held cold steel upon the cruel cross.
Cradled in His father's love, none could be lost.

When storms do rage and blow,
There is but one thing I know.
I may at times lose my grip on Him, but of this be assured,
I am always in His heart, I'm always adored.

My sin may cause Him to turn His head, to close His eyes,
However, once cradled in His love, sin cannot break loves ties.
Truth be said, before I was counted as one of his flock,
Upon a black heart, He did knock.

Asking to come in and abide was His simple plea,
His gift would set me from sin totally free.
Today I'm bond slave am I, tis true,
A servant cradled in His love, dear friend I would desire the same for you.

R. K. Hart 2000-12.

poem by R.K. Hart
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Love Is Hope

If we lose someone close to us,
We feel a sting in our Loving Heart
They are love
They Are Tender
They are Care
Love is hope

Love is Family
Love is Friends
Love is Heaven
Love Is Desire
Love is Hope

Love in Death is impossible,
Love in life is sweet
losing those you love is saddening
Resulting a hole in that heart

Forever, life and Death
Love is always there
Family, Live or dead
still love you
From Beyond the netherworld.
Love is hope

In My Opinion
Love Is Dear
Love is true
love is there
But most importantly
LOVE Is Hope

everywhere, Even The Lord
God Loves you
His love eternal everlasting
His Love, his Son
Love is hope.

poem by Ashleigh Leona Mellon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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No Father?

At times I feel so hurt because i got wounded so deeply.
I know You are there for me, Father my peace and comfort.
I turn towards you murmuring the word 'Father' and slowly.
I look towards you and pour out my pain and the much hurt

Even though I do not have a loving father to this day
I have You who is my true caring Father who loves me fully
When I am hurting, seeing other children happy today
due to the fact they have a loving father who loves them wholly.

I am so hurt, looking at my friends who have such a great live.
I am not enving them, all I want is to be happy and to be loved.
but then I see You turning towards me, You show me so much love
Lord You comfort me like a true father would, I feel so loved

Like a ray of sunshine I sense Your gentle kind fatherly comfort
I pray to you Father when I am in misery, pain or when happy
I realise I have You my true Father so I am free no more hurt.
I pray to you Lord, day and night so that I am no more weary.

When I am sad I slowly cry out to You in a desperate voice of mine
I call onto to You saying these words, 'Father, Father, Father'
I do like calling You father because I get the joy, oh so divine.
I love You so deeply My true compationate Heavenly Father.

When I pray I say, 'Father My provider, Father My God'
My whole prayer are full of the words 'Father'.......father, father
I am thankful that You gave me Your truly fatherly love Lord.
I love you so much even though I have no loving father.

I do not know why I refer to my God as 'Father' not Lord or God
but I find this peace and satifaction when I do call You father
I love my Heavenly Father so much, oh how you give joy, oh God
I somehow find comfort when call on You, You are my only loving father

Oh how Jesus loves me...............How I love Him

poem by Trulyyours Cross
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mom

You held me in your arms for the first time,
Warm tears were rolling down on your white cheeks,
And for the first time, I felt the love's delight,
I understood that this is how love speaks.

Drops of happiness betrayed your infinite excitement,
Our two hearts as one then began to beat,
entering in a new stage of love's enlightenment,
Your smile was angelic, and your breath so sweet.

So many sick days you watched over me,
Whispering with love, “You’ll be fine!”
So many late nights spent on your knee,
You taught me love's reason to shine.

You were there with me when I took the first step,
You taught me when to move and when to stand still,
When to leave my worries on the doorstep,
You have inspired me with your power and your will.

You gave me comfort in pain and sorrow,
You were always by my side,
You taught me what's tomorrow,
You taught me how to read and how to write.

You walked with me on my first day of school,
The first book that we read together, it’s now long past,
You taught me that to be myself is cool,
To live each day as the first one or maybe as the last.

With love and tender, you corrected all of my mistakes,
I still remember how you told me; You are the best!
No matter how much hurts or what it takes,
You always have to live the truth and stand the test.

You taught me to say what I think and what I feel,
Without any fear, always watching the sky,
To dream but also to know what is real,
To be powerful when I'm down and modest when I'm up high.

You taught me to comfort others with my love,
And to spread the Light, all around me,
You told me that I am a child of God's above,
You taught me to believe in Eternity!

So many precious things you planted in my heart,
You gave me life and taught me how to live it too,
You're up in Heaven, but we'll never be apart,
Today, tomorrow, always Mother, I Love You.

poem by Marius Alexandru (28 February 2021)
Submitted by anonym
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Lost in the Mist of Love

Hearts throbbing rhythmically to this mystical tune,
Heaven's music enfolding
Their heavenly match
A union of heart and soul
My angel chose her heart

*******

Left a fallen angel in me
Let her travel in her world,
Give her access to her love

*******

Ecstatically happy with her heart beats
Praying the same for fallen angel's heart
To have him, fall in love all over again
Beloved to his new found joy
Soon he too will know the heavenly mystical tune
Together rhythmically beating as one

*******

Oh boy! my joy is she
Love is my life
Far away flamingo
Say her that I will never love again

poem by Persian Khushi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Wayside Cross

A WAYSIDE cross at set of day
Unto my sprit thus did say—
"O soul, my branching arms you see
Point four ways to infinity.

"One points to infinite above,
5
To show the height of heavenly love.
"Two point to infinite width, which shows
That heavenly love no limit knows.

"One points to infinite beneath,
To show God's love is under death.
10

"The four arms join, an emblem sweet
That in God's heart all loves will meet."
I thanked the cross as I turned away
For such sweet thoughts in the twilight grey.

poem by Frederick George Scott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Third Sunday After Epiphany

I marked a rainbow in the north,
What time the wild autumnal sun
From his dark veil at noon looked forth,
As glorying in his course half done,
Flinging soft radiance far and wide
Over the dusky heaven and bleak hill-side.

It was a gleam to Memory dear,
And as I walk and muse apart,
When all seems faithless round and drear,
I would revive it in my heart,
And watch how light can find its way
To regions farthest from the fount of day.

Light flashes in the gloomiest sky,
And Music in the dullest plain,
For there the lark is soaring high
Over her flat and leafless reign,
And chanting in so blithe a tone,
It shames the weary heart to feel itself alone.

Brighter than rainbow in the north,
More cheery than the matin lark,
Is the soft gleam of Christian worth,
Which on some holy house we mark;
Dear to the pastor's aching heart
To think, where'er he looks, such gleam may have a part;

May dwell, unseen by all but Heaven,
Like diamond blazing in the mine;
For ever, where such grace is given,
It fears in open day to shine,
Lest the deep stain it owns within
Break out, and Faith be shamed by the believer's sin.

In silence and afar they wait,
To find a prayer their Lord may hear:
Voice of the poor and desolate,
You best may bring it to His ear;
Your grateful intercessions rise
With more than royal pomp, and pierce the skies.

Happy the soul whose precious cause
You in the Sovereign Presence plead -
"This is the lover of Thy laws,
The friend of Thine in fear and need,"
For to the poor Thy mercy lends
That solemn style, "Thy nation and Thy friends."

He too is blest whose outward eye
The graceful lines of art may trace,
While his free spirit, soaring high,
Discerns the glorious from the base;
Till out of dust his magic raise
A home for prayer and love, and full harmonious praise,

Where far away and high above,
In maze on maze the tranced sight
Strays, mindful of that heavenly love
Which knows no end in depth or height,
While the strong breath of Music seems
To waft us ever on, soaring in blissful dreams.

What though in poor and humble guise
Thou here didst sojourn, cottage-born?
Yet from Thy glory in the skies
Our earthly gold Thou dost not scorn.
For Love delights to bring her best,
And where Love is, that offering evermore is blest.

Love on the Saviour's dying head
Her spikenard drops unblamed may pour,
May mount His cross, and wrap Him dead
In spices from the golden shore;
Risen, may embalm His sacred name
With all a Painter's art, and all a Minstrel's flame.

Worthless and lost our offerings seem,
Drops in the ocean of His praise;
But Mercy with her genial beam
Is ripening them to pearly blaze,
To sparkle in His crown above,
Who welcomes here a child's as there an angel's love.

poem by John Keble
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Twenty-Fourth Sunday After Trinity

Why should we faint and fear to live alone,
Since all alone, so Heaven has willed, we die,
Nor e'en the tenderest heart, and next our own,
Knows half the reasons why we smile and sigh?

Each in his hidden sphere of joy or woe
Our hermit spirits dwell, and range apart,
Our eyes see all around in gloom or glow -
Hues of their own, fresh borrowed from the heart.

And well it is for us our GOD should feel
Alone our secret throbbings: so our prayer
May readier spring to Heaven, nor spend its zeal
On cloud-born idols of this lower air.

For if one heart in perfect sympathy
Beat with another, answering love for love,
Weak mortals, all entranced, on earth would lie,
Nor listen for those purer strains above.

Or what if Heaven for once its searching light
Lent to some partial eye, disclosing all
The rude bad thoughts, that in our bosom's night
Wander at large, nor heed Love's gentle thrall?

Who would not shun the dreary uncouth place?
As if, fond leaning where her infant slept,
A mother's arm a serpent should embrace:
So might we friendless live, and die unwept.

Then keep the softening veil in mercy drawn,
Thou who canst love us, thro' Thou read us true;
As on the bosom of th' aerial lawn
Melts in dim haze each coarse ungentle hue.

So too may soothing Hope Thy heave enjoy
Sweet visions of long-severed hearts to frame:
Though absence may impair, or cares annoy,
Some constant mind may draw us still the same.

We in dark dreams are tossing to and fro,
Pine with regret, or sicken with despair,
The while she bathes us in her own chaste glow,
And with our memory wings her own fond prayer.

O bliss of child-like innocence, and love
Tried to old age! creative power to win,
And raise new worlds, where happy fancies rove,
Forgetting quite this grosser world of sin.

Bright are their dreams, because their thoughts are clear,
Their memory cheering: but th' earth-stained spright,
Whose wakeful musings are of guilt and fear,
Must hover nearer earth, and less in light.

Farewell, for her, th' ideal scenes so fair -
Yet not farewell her hope, since thou hast deigned,
Creator of all hearts! to own and share
The woe of what Thou mad'st, and we have stained.

Thou knowst our bitterness--our joys are Thine -
No stranger Thou to all our wanderings wild:
Nor could we bear to think, how every line
Of us, Thy darkened likeness and defiled,

Stands in full sunshine of Thy piercing eye,
But that Thou call'st us Brethren: sweet repose
Is in that word--the LORD who dwells on high
Knows all, yet loves us better than He knows.

poem by John Keble
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Heavenly Dream

How could I
So Much without love
Come to speak secret things
From Heaven above?

Born of my need
Only love I desired
I flew angel speed
To Heaven up higher

I saw things so dear
My eyes were made new
A splendor so clear
Like the first morning dew

What there I did hear
Made my heart all anew
It was given to me
So to share it with you

The Love in that place
Is beyond all desire
They call it God's Grace
In heaven up higher

It was given to me
But not mine to keep
It's yours too you see
So to stars we can leap!

This Glorious Love
I knew in my sleep
From High up above
In my heart now so deep

Just dream of Love Pure
All the Love you desire
It's yours to be sure
From Heaven up higher

This Love in my dream
So unknown just before
To stars must I stream
To sense it once more?

This Love I know true
In my heart tho' broken
Is all here for you
In these tender words spoken:

'I Love you! We Love you! '
Three words o' so dear
From His heaven up Higher
To your hearts down here

poem by Lawrence Kelley III
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Love Is All Around

RAP 1 & 3:
MY HEART STARTS BOOM, MY ARMS FEEL WEAK
MY HEAD IS EXPLODING EVERYDAY OF THE WEEK
I CAN' T EAT, I CAN' T SLEEP, 'CAUSE YOUR BODY'S SO SWEET
PUT YOUR HAND TO MY HEART, THEN YOU FEEL THE BEAT
YOUR THE WONDERFUL GIRL WITH THAT SEXUAL HEALING
WHEN I HOLD YOUR HAND, THEN I GET THIS FEELING
YOUR THE ONLY ONE, FEEL SO PROUD
SWEET, SWEET GIRL YOUR LOVE IS ALL AROUND
REFRAIN:
LOVE IS ALL AROUND , LOVE IS ALL AROUND
LOVE IS ALL AROUND
LOVE IS ALL AROUND , EVERYWHERE YOU LOOK
LOVE IS ALL AROUND
SEE IT IN THE EYES OF A MOTHER AND HER CHILD
SEE IT IN THE EYES OF A FRIEND
LOVE IS ALL AROUND , LOVE IS ALL AROUND
LOVE IS ALL AROUND
RAP 2:
I' M DANCING, AND I FEEL LIKE FLYING
THEN I SEE THIS GIRL, SHE IS CRYING
I TAKE HER IN MY ARMS, IT' S LIKE A DREAM
THE MOST BEAUTIFUL GIRL IN THE WORLD I'VE SEEN
LOOK UP TO ME, I SEE IT IN YOUR EYES
THE MOMENT OF TRUTH, NO MORE LIES
IT' S LOVE, LOVE AT THE FIRST SIGHT
LIKE HEAVEN ON EARTH, IT' S SHINING BRIGHT
REFRAIN:
LOVE IS ALL AROUND , LOVE IS ALL AROUND
LOVE IS ALL AROUND
LOVE IS ALL AROUND , EVERYWHERE YOU LOOK
LOVE IS ALL AROUND
SEE IT IN THE EYES OF A MOTHER AND HER CHILD
SEE IT IN THE EYES OF A FRIEND
LOVE IS ALL AROUND , LOVE IS ALL AROUND
LOVE IS ALL AROUND

song performed by by DJ Bobo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sunday Next Before Advent

Will God indeed with fragments bear,
Snatched late from the decaying year?
Or can the Saviour's blood endear
The dregs of a polluted life?
When down th' o'erwhelming current tossed
Just ere he sink for ever lost,
The sailor's untried arms are crossed
In agonizing prayer, will Ocean cease her strife?

Sighs that exhaust but not relieve
Heart-rending sighs, O spare to heave
A bosom freshly taught to grieve
For lavished hours and love misspent!
Now through her round of holy thought
The Church our annual steps has brought,
But we no holy fire have caught -
Back on the gaudy world our wilful eyes were bent.

Too soon th' ennobling carols, poured
To hymn the birth-night of the LORD,
Which duteous Memory should have stored
For thankful echoing all the year -
Too soon those airs have passed away;
Nor long within the heart would stay
The silence of CHRIST'S dying day,
Profaned by worldly mirth, or scared by worldly fear.

Some strain of hope and victory
On Easter wings might lift us high
A little while we sought the sky:
And when the SPIRIT'S beacon fires
On every hill began to blare,
Lightening the world with glad amaze,
Who but must kindle while they gaze?
But faster than she soars, our earth-bound Fancy tires.

Nor yet for these, nor all the rites,
By which our Mother's voice invites
Our GOD to bless our home delights,
And sweeten every secret tear:-
The funeral dirge, the marriage vow,
The hollowed font where parents bow,
And now elate and trembling now
To the Redeemer's feet their new-found treasures bear:-

Not for this Pastor's gracious arm
Stretched out to bless--a Christian charm
To dull the shafts of worldly harm:-
Nor, sweetest, holiest, best of all
For the dear feast of JESUS dying,
Upon that altar ever lying,
Where souls with sacred hunger sighing
Are called to sit and eat, while angels prostrate fall:-

No, not for each and all of these,
Have our frail spirits found their ease.
The gale that stirs the autumnal trees
Seems tuned as truly to our hearts
As when, twelve weary months ago,
'Twas moaning bleak, so high and low,
You would have thought Remorse and Woe
Had taught the innocent air their sadly thrilling parts.

Is it, CHRIST'S light is too divine,
We dare not hope like Him to shine?
But see, around His dazzling shrine
Earths gems the fire of Heaven have caught;
Martyrs and saints--each glorious day
Dawning in order on our way -
Remind us, how our darksome clay
May keep th' ethereal warmth our new Creator brought.

These we have scorned, O false and frail!
And now once more th' appalling tale,
How love divine may woo and fail,
Of our lost year in Heaven is told -
What if as far our life were past,
Our weeks all numbered to the last,
With time and hope behind us cast,
And all our work to do with palsied hands and cold?

O watch and pray ere Advent dawn!
For thinner than the subtlest lawn
'Twixt thee and death the veil is drawn.
But Love too late can never glow:
The scattered fragments Love can glean
Refine the dregs, and yield us clean
To regions where one thought serene
Breathes sweeter than whole years of sacrifice below.

poem by John Keble
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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