A Metaphysical Prayer
O You Who Are..
O You who, so they say, say
that You are me myself,
that I myself am You -
or Who does not, in truth, say that;
since You created me as You yourself,
brooking no division and no doubt…
then teach me, who am You yourself
to know myself; to know
that I indeed know this in deed; and to rejoice
in knowing that I know…
teach me to know, in stillness, that
which I already know
for You have known this in myself;
You who stand when I stand;
sit when I sit; even
think when I think – even
when my thinking is not Yours –
You who are where praise and prayer meet;
where prayer and praise are silence
and that silence, full of You..
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Prayer Is the Soul's Sincere Desire
Prayer is the soul’s sincere desire,
Unuttered or expressed;
The motion of a hidden fire
That trembles in the breast.
Prayer is the burden of a sigh,
The falling of a tear
The upward glancing of an eye,
When none but God is near.
Prayer is the simplest form of speech
That infant lips can try;
The upward glancing of an eye,
When none but God is near.
Prayer is the Christian’s vital breath,
The Christian’s native air,
His watchword at the gates of death;
He enters heaven with prayer.
O Thou, by Whom we come to God,
The Life, the Truth, the Way;
The path of prayer Thyself hast trod:
Lord, teach us how to pray!
Prayer is the contrite sinner’s voice,
Returning from his ways,
While angels in their songs rejoice
And cry, “Behold, he prays!”
The saints in prayer appear as one
In word, in deed, and mind,
While with the Father and the Son
Sweet fellowship they find.
No prayer is made by man alone
The Holy Spirit pleads,
And Jesus, on th’eternal throne,
For sinners intercedes.
O Thou by Whom we come to God,
The Life, the Truth, the Way,
The path of prayer Thyself hast trod:
Lord, teach us how to pray.
poem by James Montgomery
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Heartsong, heart's dance
In silence, every song that’s sung
is as a wheatgrain in the hand;
known in wonder, love and awe;
its essence more than human sound;
in stillness, every joyful dance
is summed as if in perfect prayer;
though every muscle yearns to praise,
unmoving; more than mind in air;
silence sings and stillness dances
in the freedom of the heart;
self, content to be the watcher;
loving each and every part.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Where prayer meets praise
Where does prayer end, and praise begin?
Can there really be distinction?
In prayer, we believe, we call upon the gods,
those forces greater than our smaller selves,
to give us what we feel we sadly lack;
In praise, we ask them nothing; simply dedicate
our inner selves to honour all we feel of worth;
honour, laud and magnify those highest qualities
that mortal minds conceive as boundless life..
Within us, then, some prior knowledge grown
of what we feel should govern our full life!
And now the blissful sages speak to us
and tell us that the heavens which we seek
are equally inside our very selves,
awaiting recognition and acknowledgement;
so what does that imply? That what we call upon
with prayer, must be answered; for it’s there
within already – courage, strength or love;
and what we praise, is, too, all there within:
we praise ourselves, while thinking of ourselves
as other than ourself.. now, is this strange? or beautiful -
beyond all beauty: good beyond all good?
and true, for all hearts know the truth of truth?
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Prayer XXIII
Then a priestess said, "Speak to us of Prayer."
And he answered, saying:
You pray in your distress and in your need; would that you might pray also in the fullness of your joy and in your days of abundance.
For what is prayer but the expansion of yourself into the living ether?
And if it is for your comfort to pour your darkness into space, it is also for your delight to pour forth the dawning of your heart.
And if you cannot but weep when your soul summons you to prayer, she should spur you again and yet again, though weeping, until you shall come laughing.
When you pray you rise to meet in the air those who are praying at that very hour, and whom save in prayer you may not meet.
Therefore let your visit to that temple invisible be for naught but ecstasy and sweet communion.
For if you should enter the temple for no other purpose than asking you shall not receive.
And if you should enter into it to humble yourself you shall not be lifted:
Or even if you should enter into it to beg for the good of others you shall not be heard.
It is enough that you enter the temple invisible.
I cannot teach you how to pray in words.
God listens not to your words save when He Himself utters them through your lips.
And I cannot teach you the prayer of the seas and the forests and the mountains.
But you who are born of the mountains and the forests and the seas can find their prayer in your heart,
And if you but listen in the stillness of the night you shall hear them saying in silence,
"Our God, who art our winged self, it is thy will in us that willeth.
It is thy desire in us that desireth.
It is thy urge in us that would turn our nights, which are thine, into days which are thine also.
We cannot ask thee for aught, for thou knowest our needs before they are born in us:
Thou art our need; and in giving us more of thyself thou givest us all."
poem by Khalil Gibran
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Thank and Praise Jehovah's Name
Thank and Praise Jehovah’s Name;
For His mercies, firm and sure,
From eternity the same
To eternity endure.
Let the ransomed thus rejoice,
Gathered out of every land,
As the people of His choice,
Plucked from the destroyer’s hand.
Praise Him, ye who know His love;
Praise Him from the depths beneath;
Praise Him in the heights above;
Praise your Maker all that breathe.
For His truth and mercy stand,
Past, and present, and to be,
Like the years of His right hand—
Like His own eternity.
poem by James Montgomery
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All ye nations, praise the Lord,
All ye nations, praise the Lord,
All ye lands your voices raise;
Heaven and earth with loud accord,
Praise the Lord, for ever praise.
For his truth and mercy stand,
Past, and present, and to be,
Like the years of his right hand,
Like his own eternity.
Praise Him, ye who know his love;
Praise Him from the depth beneath;
Praise Him in the heights above;
Praise your Maker, all that breathe.
poem by James Montgomery
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They Cant Afford!
no prayer in schools,
no moment of silence...
might cause disrespect
of other faiths....
ban the books
that dont march to the beat,
that dont follow the lie...
no discipline, no values,
let them learn at home....
give them a crack pipe,
teach them to abuse
anyone that's different...
teach them to make money....
for you! ....
send the ones that fall out
overseas to fight....
or to prison to learn,
to master their craft....
dont let them exercise faith
with a deep respect for all faiths.
dont let them read,
brings about too many questions.
dont teach them respect,
they'll respect each other...
cant let them join together...
they'll stand up and protest...
pepper spray and batons,
the police state lives...
freedom's an illusion,
a drug to the poor....
a drug they cant afford!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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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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I Said a Prayer
I said a prayer 08/27/07
I looked towards the sky and what did I see?
A prayer building up inside of me.
A prayer so great, which I could not control.
A prayer, which came from the inner soul.
I looked at all the beauties that GOD had created.
Things and feelings that can be related.
The beauty of a sunset-with the colors all aglow.
Which is a wonder to behold.
The rising of the sun for a brand new day.
Colors of perfection in every way.
The grass and trees ever so green
It is a sight to be seen.
The sounds of children’s voices as they play.
They don’t know what hate is-so let’s keep it that way.
Let’s teach them to follow GODS simple rule.
Live and love- this is his tool.
So this is my prayer! I have no other.
Let us become sister and brother.
poem by Louis Rams
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Power Of Silence
In silence the flower buds gently bloom,
In silence they waft their sweet perfume.
In silence grows the blades of grass,
In silence I pen down my verse.
Speech is silver, silence gold,
Good deeds silently performed,
Is more eloquent than words!
In silence lovers cuddle and sleep,
True love communicates through
oceans deep!
Look at the mountains towering so high,
Clouds kiss their tops and silently
float by!
In silence the monks move their prayer
beads,
In silence they perform their charitable deeds.
In silence the sun rises and shine,
In silence the moon beams softly smiles.
In silence my God I invoke,
In silence rise my incense smoke.
In silence my inner-self unfolds,
In silent prayer my hands I fold.
In silence, with Him I communicate,
In silence I surrender to my fate.
In silence I beg Him to make me whole,
In silence to Him I surrender my soul!
In our noise polluted world, silence is
difficult to find,
But I know, one day, this Silence shall be
mine!
Prayer In Time Of War
Now Death is near, and very near,
In this wild whirl of horror and fear,
When round the vessel of our State
Roll the great mountain waves of hate.
God! We have but one prayer to-day -
O Father, teach us how to pray.
For prayer is strong, and very strong;
But we have turned from Thee so long
To follow gods that have no power
Save in the safe and sordid hour,
That to Thy feet we have lost the way . . .
O Father, teach us how to pray.
We have done ill, and very ill,
Set up our will against Thy will.
That our soft lives might gorge, full-fed,
We stole our brothers' daily bread.
Lord, we are sorry we went astray -
O Father, teach us how to pray.
Now in this hour of desperate strife
For England's life, her very life,
Teach us to pray that life may be
A new life, beautiful to Thee,
And in Thy hands that life to lay.
O Father, teach us how to pray.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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In the spirit of Rumi - 80 - Meditation
To the Lord, my Beloved, I said,
my Beloved: often I pray to You,
but more often, I confess,
it is to ask from You;
less often, to thank You or to praise You…
teach me, then, about meditation,
which men say to be a way
to be near You,
even beyond thanks or praise…
the Lord, my Beloved, said,
O you whom I love dearly as Myself,
whose praise and thanks are dear to Me
in ways that only I may know…
such is My nature, and is that of yours,
that only meditation may teach you meditation…
but this is all I ask of you:
that twice a day – and best,
at dawn and dusk, which are
the times I can be known to walk
in My garden of the world,
in the stillness of the morning,
in the stillness of the evening,
when My nature wakes or sleeps in peace…
that twice a day, you spend some time
saying – as if it were only once, and always once –
My name for you; your name for Me;
this will be our time of love;
this will be My test of your true love for Me:
and if at any time, your thoughts
stray away from Me, wandering in
the byways of the world –
that will not diminish My eternal love for you;
it will only mean, that you have forgotten
for the time not being, My love for you –
but if you truly love Me, then you will return
as a straying son returns,
and if you truly love Me,
you will then, know My love’s increase..
this will be our daily time together,
you and I; that is all I ask of you;
yet if, in all the other hours of the day,
I seem to you to stay
so much the nearer to you, close to you –
then that is but the mark of My love for you,
O you whom I love dearly as Myself;
so, together, let us speak each other’s name,
as lovers always shall.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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What Is Prayer?
Prayer is the soul's sincere desire,
Unuttered or expressed;
The motion of a hidden fire,
That trembles in the breast.
Prayer is the burden of a sigh,
The falling of a tear;
The upward glancing of an eye,
When none but God is near.
Prayer is the simplest form of speech
That infant lips can try;
Prayer, the sublimest strains that reach
The Majesty on high.
Prayer is the Christian's vital breath,
The Christian's native air;
His watchword at the gates of death -
He enters heaven with prayer.
Prayer is the contrite sinner's voice,
Returning from his ways;
While angels in their songs rejoice
And cry, 'Behold, he prays!'
The saints in prayer appear as one,
In word, in deed, and mind;
While with the Father and the Son,
Sweet fellowship they find.
No prayer is made by man alone
The Holy Spirit pleads;
And Jesus, on th' eternal throne
For sinners intercedes.
O Thou! by Whom we come to God,
The Life, the Truth, the Way;
The path of prayer Thyself hast trod:
Lord, teach us how to pray.
As fail the waters from the deep,
As summer brooks run dry,
Man lieth down in dreamless sleep,
His life is vanity.
Man lieth down, no more to wake,
Till yonder arching sphere
Shall with a roll of thunder break,
And nature disappear.
Oh! hide me till Thy wrath be past,
Thou, who canst slay or save!
Hide me where hope may anchor fast,
In my Redeemer's grave!
poem by James Montgomery
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48.........silence
........Silence is a sign of loneliness.
Solitude and silence teach me to love,
for what they are,
not for what they say or
what they have done.
See how nature - trees, flowers, grass - grows in silence;
see the stars, the moon and the sun,
how they move in silence...........
we need silence to be able to touch souls.
In the attitude of silence the soul finds the path in an clearer light,
and what is elusive and deceptive resolves itself into crystal clearness.
Our life is a long and arduous quest after Truth.
(13th november 2009)
poem by Fawzia Zie
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Silence
Silence in the language
Is the absence of speech
Silence in the conversation
Can be so remarkable and rich.
Silence is an atmosphere you make
And it's the situation you break.
Sometimes it tells you more
Than thousand words told before.
Silence is a feeling
Which is very intensive
Poorly created
It can be very offensive.
Silence can be so different
It has a lot of meanings
It's an expression of yourself
It shows your feelings.
There is a silence
That brings you peace
And you feel yourself
Being at your ease.
There is a silence of mystery
Like being in a dark wood.
There is a silence of happiness
When you are loved and understood.
There is a silence that frightens
There is a silence of anniversary dates
This silence reminds you
Of those lost fates.
There is a silence in music
When you listen to it and dream
But...suddenly...it stops.
Then...the sounds come to their extreme.
The prayer in silence
Is your inner world
When you dream in silence
You are just not heard.
Silence is golden
Or so I've heard
But it sometimes hurts more
Than a single told word.
Silence is golden
Or so goes a lie.
This silence of fraud
Do not need a reply.
Silence when you are in love
You do not need words.
Silence when you are fooled
You don't know what to say afterwards.
But...the best moment of silence
When you take my hand
I know you do not pretend
You just look at my eyes and I realize:
It's love, it's happiness.
Larisa R (Odessa, Ukraine)
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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0369 Prayer. To Mike, who asked.
Simplest prayer, soonest answered,
so it’s said; so let us be as little children
(themselves an answered prayer..?)
and ask the simplest questions -
how? whom to? for what? and will we get
what we are asking for? promise?
suppose He or She or It thinks, (if They think anyway..)
that’s it’s a silly thing to ask for,
or just a bit too ‘me’ and greedy,
will they say no? will they let us know
somehow, that’s it’s no?
or will our justice be
to get what we think we want
until the day we wish we hadn’t asked for it?
or is it like the tale of the three wishes,
everything turned to gold – including us! …
another wish, please cancel; then
the last and sensible small wish, which may even
include the welfare of all others too?
Some say the commonest of prayers
amounts to, please God, let two and two
please equal five…that prayers may only ask
what may be within the domain of the law
of our Creation; some even say that, given this,
we’ll always get what we wish for – eventually;
but that by some mighty, unalterable law,
as with the fairies gathered around
Sleeping Beauty’s cradle, as the Fates,
along with what we asked for, comes
a something else for which we didn’t ask…
others say that there’s no difference
between the meaning of a prayer, and praise;
that in our praise, our prayer is surely shaped
and those who do not think to praise
may never know, to whom to pray,
or ever truly know, for what…
and others of a theologic mind
pray to be taught, for what to pray…
or instead of prayer, to learn to willingly accept
all that befalls them, as the gift of all
that they might pray for, for their good of soul…
*
all this is for considering; but I suggest
that in the depths of grief, or heights of joy, we know
the place where prayer may arise:
so deep within ourselves, that it’s beyond
the asking or the answering; a place so deep
that there, our soul rests in peace,
all questions meet all answers,
and all desires are satisfied;
there is no loss,
and nothing lacks;
we are – ourselves; ourself; at peace;
and for that, we may surely pray.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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On A Wing & A Prayer
She sits in the dark
Quietly cursing him and this love
While shes rehearsing every line
Shes gonna say when she walks away
On a wing and a prayer
Looking back at her in the mirror is a stranger
Years that have passed, how they seemed to change her
A woman once able to stand on her own
Searches for strength to stand on her own
On a wing and a prayer
On a wing and a prayer
Shes leaving tonight
Holding her heart in her hands
Somewhere out there she knows that shell find a love that understands
Why she left there on a wing and a prayer
She held on to maybe as long as she could, knowing he wouldnt
Believeing he would, give her a single reason to stay
To keep her from breaking away on a wing and a prayer
On a wing and a prayer
Shes leaving tonight
Holding her heart in her hands
Somewhere out there she knows that shell find a love that understands
Why she left there on a wing and a prayer
Somewhere out there she knows that shell find a love that understands
Why she left there on a wing and a prayer
Oh, why she left there on a wing and a prayer
song performed by by Jo Dee Messina
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The praisers
You might not spot them in a crowd –
but for that certain stillness of the self-contained:
in conversation, not until some detail
of an action, person, or a deed
sparks their mind; then from their heart -
not, pours – but rather, in a fine, fine stream
of exquisite precision, flows - their praise:
as if their whole self gives itself to you
in some new form of thought, in which
there is no longer, they and you –
you are united in exalted praise;
and their eye shines – inviting you to join
a world above: perhaps they sum the virtue
of a person, action, deed; and yet,
while they are speaking, praise is seated there
above the virtues; they are prophets, seers,
visionaries of that which in our praise, we are..
and perhaps, you try to join them in your speech –
how awkwardly praise sits upon your tongue!
you, who prided so yourself, a balanced judge
of all your fellow humans…find yourself
now at some sad and puny tongue-tied loss..
so, practise, in ourselves, a year or two –
(there’s silent praise – the eye gives that away…)
and praise the praiseful in their mighty work:
another world awaits: where we become
the prophets of ourselves in timeless life.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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God's Truth Will Always Stand
His truth will always stand
Though I be tossed about
By the winds of doubt
His truth will always stand
Though I close my eyes to faith
Then lie to myself that I am safe.
His truth will always stand
No matter what I do
However I am blue
His truth will always stand:
His Son's died in our place for all our sins
Past, future, and the ones we're in.
His truth will always stand:
He is a righteous but forgiving all powerful God
He can make something out of a dirt clod.
His truth will always stand--
So I will forget all which does not stay
And hope in the one who is for always.
poem by Heidi Bockus
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For Tibet....
a prayer,
a moment of silence,
and heartfelt tears....
for Tibet.
i am ashamed
that we the world
have done so little to help.
for those tortured and detained
by a most oppressive regime...
for all those left without a home,
orphaned on their pilgrim's journey...
for those who dared to protest
even to self-immolation....
there are those of us who hear,
and weep....
and stand beside you
'neath the stillness of blackened skies,
believing in your freedom!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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