A Prayer
Tend me my birds, and bring again
The brotherhood of woodland life,
So shall I wear the seasons round
A friend to need, a foe to strife;
Keep me my heritage of lawn,
And grant me, Father, till I die
The fine sincerity of light
And luxury of open sky.
So, learning always, may I find
My heaven around me everywhere,
And go in hope from this to Thee,
The pupil of Thy country air.
poem by Norman Rowland Gale
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Hymn I
O THOU, whose presence went before
Our fathers in their weary way,
As with Thy chosen moved of yore
The fire by night, the cloud by day!
When from each temple of the free,
A nation's song ascends to Heaven,
Most Holy Father! unto Thee
May not our humble prayer be given?
Thy children all, though hue and form
Are varied in Thine own good will,
With Thy own holy breathings warm,
And fashioned in Thine image still.
We thank Thee, Father! hill and plain
Around us wave their fruits once more,
And clustered vine, and blossomed grain,
Are bending round each cottage door.
And peace is here; and hope and love
Are round us as a mantle thrown,
And unto Thee, supreme above,
The knee of prayer is bowed alone.
But oh, for those this day can bring,
As unto us, no joyful thrill;
For those who, under Freedom's wing,
Are bound in Slavery's fetters still:
For those to whom Thy written word
Of light and love is never given;
For those whose ears have never heard
The promise and the hope of heaven!
For broken heart, and clouded mind,
Whereon no human mercies fall;
Oh, be Thy gracious love inclined,
Who, as a Father, pitiest all!
And grant, O Father! that the time
Of Earth's deliverance may be near,
When every land and tongue and clime
The message of Thy love shall hear;
When, smitten as with fire from heaven,
The captive's chain shall sink in dust,
And to his fettered soul be given
The glorious freedom of the just!
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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Translated Out Of Gazaeus,
GOD grant thee thine own wish, and grant thee mine,
Thou who dost, best friend, in best things outshine ;
May thy soul, ever cheerful, ne'er know cares,
Nor thy life, ever lively, know grey hairs,
Nor thy hand, ever open, know base holds,
Nor thy purse, ever plump, know pleats, or folds,
Nor thy tongue, ever true, know a false thing,
Nor thy words, ever mild, know quarrelling,
Nor thy works, ever equal, know disguise,
Nor thy fame, ever pure, know contumelies,
Nor thy prayers know low objects, still divine ;
God grant thee thine own wish, and grant thee mine.
poem by John Donne
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The Old Dispensation
O THOU, who, high in heaven,
To man hast given
This clouded earthly life
All storm and strife,
Blasted with ice and fire,
Love and desire,
Filled with dead faith, and love
That change is master of--
O Thou, who mightest have given
To all Thy heaven,
But who, instead, didst give
This life we live--
Who feedest with blood and tears
The hungry years--
I make one prayer to Thee,
O Great God! grant it me.
Some day when summer shows
Her leaf, her rose,
God, let Thy sinner lie
Under Thy sky,
And feel Thy sun's large grace
Upon his face;
Then grant him this, that he
May not believe in Thee!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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The Old Dispensation
O THOU, who, high in heaven,
To man hast given
This clouded earthly life
All storm and strife,
Blasted with ice and fire,
Love and desire,
Filled with dead faith, and love
That change is master of--
O Thou, who mightest have given
To all Thy heaven,
But who, instead, didst give
This life we live--
Who feedest with blood and tears
The hungry years--
I make one prayer to Thee,
O Great God! grant it me.
Some day when summer shows
Her leaf, her rose,
God, let Thy sinner lie
Under Thy sky,
And feel Thy sun's large grace
Upon his face;
Then grant him this, that he
May not believe in Thee!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Father I know that my life
Father I know that my life
is measured out by Thee
and Thy will holds
the very best for me.
Yet I chase after greatness
and try to be a man
of integrity
and in every thing that I do
I am set to please Thee.
Father teach me
to be more like Thee
and to love without question
in sincerity.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Barricades Of Heaven
Running down around the towns along the shore
When I was sixteen and on my own
No, I couldnt tell you what the hell those brakes were for
I was just trying to hear my song
Jimmy found his own sweet sound and won that free guitar
Wed all get in the van and play
Life became the paradox, the bear, the rouge et noir
And the stretch of road running to l.a.
Pages turning
Pages we were years from learning
Straight into the night our hearts were flung
Better bring your own redemption when you come
To the barricades of heaven where Im from
All the world was shining from those hills
The stars above and the lights below
Among those there to test their fortunes and their wills
I lost track of the score long ago
Pages turning
Pages we were years from learning
Straight into the night our hearts were flung
Better bring your own redemption when you come
To the barricades of heaven where Im from
Childhood comes for me at night
Voices of my friends
Your face bathing me in light
Hope that never ends
Pages turning
Pages torn and pages burning
Faded pages, open in the sun
Better bring your own redemption when you come
To the barricades of heaven where Im from.
Better bring your own redemption when you come
To the barricades of heaven where Im from.
song performed by by Jackson Browne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Oh, FATHER! - FEEL MY Untold LOVE! (Part-2)
When I think of all the things you GAVE me:
Your sacrifices in food; love and affection are some to name,
The list goes endless and I fail to count what you gave to me;
With your heart, your mind, your energy and your soul of fame!
Mother, oh mother, I am still your little son!
Father, Oh father, I love thee till I am done!
You burnt yourself like a CANDLE to give me light....
Your deeds are never dull; your love is never pale;
I count endless things you, an endless tale
All these you spent on me throughout the years.
Mother, oh mother, I am still your little son!
Father, Oh father, I love thee till I am done!
Now I am in foreign land tormented like an alien, I'm hurt!
I am sad yet I remember Rudyard Kipling's poem, 'If' –
There a father suggest 180 things to his son; What if?
I am not with you; yet your advices ring in heart!
Mother, oh mother, I am still your little son!
Father, Oh father, I love thee till I am done!
I cherish our relationship forever and a day,
Till earth exists and sun sparkles in every way,
Till Stars twinkle and moon delights I carry your name,
Till death may do us apart yet I carry all the same
Mother, oh mother, I am still your little son!
Father, Oh father, I love thee till I am done!
We are separated by boundaries narrow.....
Yet in my memories, I'm with as your shadow;
I may carry your fortunes for while.....
Yet I carry your hope for a mile;
Mother, oh mother, I am still your little son!
Father, Oh father, I love thee till I am done! ................................................. .......................
A BIG NOTICE BOARD:
*Your attention please: Just take a break! Now READ part 1 to make your reading wholesome. PART 2 of the poem
Oh, FATHER! - FEEL MY Untold LOVE! (Part-1)
poem by Harindhar Reddy
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The Mediator
O Christ, true Son of God most high,
Thy name we praise for ever;
Whoe'er to Thee for help doth cry
Shall find Thee fail him never;
'Tis Thou wilt plead,
Thou intercede
With God, for us who need Thy prayers so sore:
Thy bitter strife
Hath wrought us life,
And Thine be thanks and praise for evermore!
To Thee the Father giveth now
All power in earth and heaven;
Sin, Satan, Death to Thee must bow,
All fetters Thou hast riven,
Bade fear to cease,
And made our peace,
That now to God we dare our hearts outpour:
Thy bitter strife
Hath wrought us life,
And Thine be thanks and praise for evermore!
Fulness of grace is in Thy Word;
The Life, the Truth, the Way
To life eternal art Thou, Lord;
To Thee alone we pray,
Who didst appear
A servant here
To bear the sin that crushed the world before:
Thy bitter strife
Hath wrought us life,
And Thine be thanks and praise for evermore!
poem by Hans Sachs
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Emerson
MISFORTUNE to have lived not knowing thee!
’T were not high living, nor to noblest end,
Who, dwelling near, learned not sincerity,
Rich friendship’s ornament that still doth lend
To life its consequence and propriety.
Thy fellowship was my culture, noble friend:
By the hand thou took’st me, and did’st condescend
To bring me straightway into thy fair guild;
And life-long hath it been high compliment
By that to have been known, and thy friend styled,
Given to rare thought and to good learning bent;
Whilst in my straits an angel on me smiled.
Permit me, then, thus honored, still to be
A scholar in thy university.
poem by Amos Bronson Alcott
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No Gospel like this Feast
No Gospel like this Feast
Spread for Thy Church by Thee;
Nor prophet nor evangelist
Preach the glad news so free.
All our Redemption cost,
All our Redemption won;
All it has won for us, the lost—
All it cost Thee, the Son;--
Thine was the bitter price,
Ours is the free gift given;
Thine was the Blood of Sacrifice,
Ours is the wine of Heaven!
For Thee, the burning thirst,
The shame, the mortal strife,
The broken heart, the side transpierced;
To us, the Bread of Life!
To Thee, our curse and doom
Wrapt round Thee with our sin;
The horror of that mid-day gloom,
The deeper night within.
To us, Thy home in light,
Thy “Come, ye blessed, come!”
Thy bridal raiment pure and white,
Thy Father’s welcome home.
Here we would rest midway,
As on a sacred height,
That darkest and that brightest Day
Meeting before our sight;
From that dark depth of woes
Thy love for us hath trod,
Up to the heights of blest repose
Thy love prepares with God:
Till, from self’s chains released,
One sight alone we see—
Still at the Cross, as at the Feast,
Behold Thee, only Thee!
poem by Elizabeth Rundle Charles (1863)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Sonnet: Dear Child
Sweet girl, firstborn in an alien country!
’Tis sad your parents now cannot rear thee;
Grandparents tend to thee- aren’t you lucky?
Your mom and dad miss thee so miserably.
You breathed first air of a foreign country!
Be happy breathe you now your Moth’rland’s air;
Maybe, you miss your parents’ luxury;
Tho’ life to you has been unfair, ’tis fair!
The water you now drink isn’t very clean;
The food you take, less sterile than you should;
But bless’d are you, amidst a loveful scene!
Whatever happens now is for your good.
Pity your parents, who are unlucky,
And miss your screams and smiles and lullaby!
9-8 -2001 by Dr John Celes
To dear Annika
poem by John Celes
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Season In The Sun
Goodbye to you my trusted friend
We ve known each other since we
Were nine or ten
Together we ve climbed hills and trees
Learned of love and abc s
Skinned our hearts and
Skinned our knees
Goodbye my friend it s hard to die
When all the birds are singing
In the sky
Now that spring is in the air
Pretty girls are everywhere
Think of me and I ll be there
We had joy we had fun we had
Seasons in the sun
But the hills that we climbed were
Just seasons out of time
Goodbye papa please pray for me
I was the black sheep of the family
You tried to teach me right from wrong
Too much wine and too much song
Wonder how I got along
Goodbye papa it s hard to die
When all the birds are singing in the sky
Now that the spring is in the air
Little children everywhere
When you see them I ll be there
We had joy we had fun we had
Seasons in the sun
But the wine and the songs like the
Seasons have all gone
We had joy we had fun we had
Seasons in the sun
But the wine and the song like
The seasons have all gone
Goodbye michelle my little one
You gave me love and helped
Me find the sun
And every time that I was down
You would always come around
And get my feet back on
The ground
Goodbye michelle it s hard to die
When all the birds are singing in
The sky
Now that the spring is in the air
With the flowers everywhere
I wish that we could both be there
We had joy we had fun we had
Seasons in the sun
But the hills that we climbed were
Just seasons out of time
We had joy we had fun we had
Seasons in the sun
But the wine and the song like the
Seasons have all gone
We had joy we had fun we had
Seasons in the sun
But the wine and the song like the
Seasons have all gone
We had joy we had fun we had
Seasons in the sun
But the wine and the song like the
Seasons have all gone
song performed by by Westlife
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hope May
Hope comes like a shining light
Hope comes when there is no way in sight
When you lose your heart you lose it all
But Hope is always there to catch you when you fall
When you think you can go on no more
Just hang on you never know what Hope has in store
Hope may bring someone new
Hope may bring someone you choose
Hope may bring a new friend to you
Hope may every say “this person needs a friend to”
(January 31,1987 age 15)
The Luxury to apprehend
815
The Luxury to apprehend
The Luxury 'twould be
To look at Thee a single time
An Epicure of Me
In whatsoever Presence makes
Till for a further Food
I scarcely recollect to starve
So first am I supplied—
The Luxury to meditate
The Luxury it was
To banguet on thy Countenance
A Sumptuousness bestows
On plainer Days, whose Table far
As Certainty can see
Is laden with a single Crumb
The Consciousness of Thee.
poem by Emily Dickinson
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Last Words
A dreadful darkness closes in
On my bewildered mind;
O let me suffer and not sin,
Be tortured yet resigned.
Through all this world of whelming mist
Still let me look to Thee,
And give me courage to resist
The Tempter till he flee.
Weary I am -- O give me strength
And leave me not to faint;
Say Thou wilt comfort me at length
And pity my complaint.
I've begged to serve Thee heart and soul,
To sacrifice to Thee
No niggard portion, but the whole
Of my identity.
I hoped amid the brave and strong
My portioned task might lie,
To toil amid the labouring throng
With purpose pure and high.
But Thou hast fixed another part,
And Thou hast fixed it well;
I said so with my breaking heart
When first the anguish fell.
For Thou hast taken my delight
And hope of life away,
And bid me watch the painful night
And wait the weary day.
The hope and the delight were Thine;
I bless Thee for their loan;
I gave Thee while I deemed them mine
Too little thanks, I own.
Shall I with joy Thy blessings share
And not endure their loss?
Or hope the martyr's crown to wear
And cast away the cross?
These weary hours will not be lost,
These days of passive misery,
These nights of darkness anguish tost
If I can fix my heart on Thee.
Weak and weary though I lie,
Crushed with sorrow, worn with pain,
Still I may lift to Heaven mine eyes
And strive and labour not in vain,
That inward strife against the sins
That ever wait on suffering;
To watch and strike where first begins
Each ill that would corruption bring,
That secret labour to sustain
With humble patience every blow,
To gather fortitude from pain
And hope and holiness from woe.
Thus let me serve Thee from my heart
Whatever be my written fate,
Whether thus early to depart
Or yet awhile to wait.
If Thou shouldst bring me back to life
More humbled I should be;
More wise, more strengthened for the strife,
More apt to lean on Thee.
Should Death be standing at the gate
Thus should I keep my vow;
But, Lord, whate'er my future fate
So let me serve Thee now.
poem by Anne Brontë
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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On Retirement
Retirement?
Retire man, so what!
’Tis just a natural thing
That many tend to do.
’Tis not the end;
’Tis a beginning, dear friend;
’Tis a Godsend;
And He will fend.
So, keep your calm;
Retirement’s a balm,
For wearied body, mind!
A new happiness, you’ll find.
And God will take you,
In a newer direction;
With Heaven as goal,
Why then worry, pal?
Cheer up man!
And pray as fervently as you can;
Life will be fine,
Once again.
God will provide;
God will decide;
Just rest awhile
And wear a smile.
Today will be gone;
The morrow will be born;
God will your life adorn
When comes a new morn!
A new door opens, right today;
Despair not brother, ne’er, nay!
This is your great DAY!
You’ll soon be in your new way!
God bless you!
poem by John Celes
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Sometimes …
When trials come
And travail bring
Rude shocks in life
To everyone,
We tend to move
Closer to God
Through prayers that
Ignite our hearts.
When failures come
Repeatedly,
And things happen
Causing worries,
We tend to walk
Nearer to God,
And plead with Him
To grant success.
When strife returns
Often in life,
Denying joys
Of every kind,
We realize
Our weaknesses,
And take refuge
In God’s mercy.
Sometimes God tests
Our heart and mind,
To ensure if
There’s love for Him.
If satisfied,
He blesses us
In all our works
Upon the earth!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 6-26-2009
poem by John Celes
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Going Home
Going home sure sounds good, to be at home with the brotherhood.
Home with those who went before, now in the presence of The Lord.
Whether through that veil of death, when I take that very last breath,
Or at that time we upward abound, when we hear the trumpet sound.
A Christian’s death from this sod, is truly precious in the eyes of God.
As He takes you where you died, to bring you to Heaven by His side.
But the Rapture is a special hope, which gives men an eternal scope.
A hope that goes beyond this earth; a hope given to us by New Birth.
I do know that my Redeemer lives, and New Life to all men He gives.
God, who lives in Heaven up above, came to earth to show His love.
He sent His Only Son Jesus Christ, who died for all, to give men life.
Christ then returned to prepare a place, up in Heaven, by His Grace.
A place in Heaven for me and you, so where Christ is we will be too.
Christ has for us an Eternal Home, right beside His Glorious Throne.
Whether the rapture or death friend, this temporal world isn’t the end.
Our end on the earth is only a start, of the hope we have in our heart.
We’re passing by this temporal place, heading home by God’s Grace,
And we’re headed for a Mansion high, prepared for us above the sky.
My friend, home for us is in Eternity, where with God we’ll forever be,
For when we see the face of Christ, we’ll truly begin our Eternal Life.
(Copyright ©03/2006)
Hope
Hope was but a timid friend;
She sat without the grated den,
Watching how my fate would tend,
Even as selfish-hearted men.
She was cruel in her fear;
Through the bars, one dreary day,
I looked out to see her there,
And she turned her face away!
Like a false guard, false watch keeping,
Still, in strife, she whispered peace;
She would sing while I was weeping;
If I listened, she would cease.
False she was, and unrelenting;
When my last joys strewed the ground,
Even Sorrow saw, repenting,
Those sad relics scattered round;
Hope, whose whisper would have given
Balm to all my frenzied pain,
Stretched her wings, and soared to heaven,
Went, and ne'er returned again!
poem by Emily Jane Brontë
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America the Beautiful
O beautiful for spacious skies,
For amber waves of grain,
For purple mountain majesties
Above the fruited plain!
America! America!
God shed His grace on thee,
And crown thy good with brotherhood
From sea to shining sea!
O beautiful for pilgrim feet
Whose stern impassion'd stress
A thoroughfare for freedom beat
Across the wilderness.
America! America!
God mend thine ev'ry flaw,
Confirm thy soul in self-control,
Thy liberty in law.
O beautiful for heroes prov'd
In liberating strife,
Who more than self their country loved,
And mercy more than life.
America! America!
May God thy gold refine
Till all success be nobleness,
And ev'ry gain divine.
O beautiful for patriot dream
That sees beyond the years
Thine alabaster cities gleam
Undimmed by human tears.
America! America!
God shed His grace on thee,
And crown thy good with brotherhood
From sea to shining sea.
poem by Katharine Lee Bates (1895)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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