Satan
Below the bottom of the great Abyss,
There where one centre reconciles all things,
The world's profound heart pants; there placed is
Mischief's old Master! close about him clings
A curled knot of embracing snakes, that kiss
His correspondent cheeks: these loathsome strings
Hold the perverse prince in eternal ties,
Fast bound since first he forfeited the skies.
Heaven's golden-winged herald late he saw
To a poor Galilean virgin sent;
How long the bright youth bowed, and with what awe
Immortal flowers to her fair hand present:
He saw the old Hebrew's womb neglect the law
Of age and barrenness; and her Babe prevent
His birth by his devotion, who began
Betimes to be a saint before a man!
Yet, on the other side, fain would he start
Above his fears, and think it cannot be:
He studies Scripture, strives to sound the heart
And feel the pulse of every prophecy,
He knows, but knows not how, or by what art
The heaven-expecting ages hope to see
A mighty Babe, whose pure, unspotted birth
From a chaste virgin womb should bless the earth!
But these vast mysteries his senses smother,
And reason, - for what's faith to him! - devour,
How she that is a maid should prove a mother,
Yet keep inviolate her virgin flower:
How God's eternal Son should be man's brother,
Poseth his proudest intellectual power;
How a pure spirit should incarnate be,
And life itself wear death's frail livery.
That the great angel-blinding light should shrink
His blaze, to shine in a poor shepherd's eye;
That the unmeasured God so low should sink
As prisoner in a few poor rags to lie; milk should drink,
Who feeds with nectar Heaven's fair family;
That a vile manger his low bed should prove
Who in a throne of stars thunders above.
That He whom the sun serves, should faintly peep
Through clouds of infant flesh: that He the old
Eternal Word would be a child, and weep;
That He who made the fire should feel the cold;
That Heaven's high Majesty his court should keep
In a clay-cottage, by each blast controlled:
That Glory's self should serve our griefs and fears:
And free Eternity submit to years.
poem by Richard Crashaw
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
‘Happy Birthday’, Mother Mary!
8th September – your birthday,
O Queen of heaven, all say;
The grace that filled your heart, aye,
Gave us and world, a mighty day.
O Maria Bambina!
Daughter of Joachim and Anne;
You acceded to God’s request
Through angel Gabriel.
You grew up in great piety;
God chose you from amongst women –
A virgin to mother a child,
A baby boy, Immanuel!
By pow’r of Spirit Holy,
You bore the sacred baby,
In your womb of sanctity,
O Mother Virgin Mary.
Hail Mary, Mother of Jesus;
Heavenly mother of mankind;
Look down with mercy upon us,
Ask God to cleanse our sin-stained souls!
O New Eve of the world of men!
The Word became flesh in your womb,
And born was the Lord, ‘King of Kings’:
You trounced Satan forever then.
Conceived without Original Sin,
Becoming Mother of God;
You set aside all Natural laws,
And gave birth to the Lord.
You brought Salvation to mankind
Through Jesus Christ your son,
Who came as Savior, Messiah,
And suffered a death on cross!
O Lady of great chastity!
You obeyed Almighty’s one wish;
Exalted more than angels, saints,
Heaven is now your true abode.
O perfect vessel made by God!
Afilled by grace up to the brim;
The most blessed among women,
Our Intercessor, Pure of heart.
O Mary most immaculate,
Assumed into heaven by God;
Do pray for us sinners on earth
And protect souls from fire of hell.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 09-08-08
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In the Holy Nativity of our Lord
CHORUS
Come we shepherds whose blest sight
Hath met love's noon in nature's night;
Come lift we up our loftier song
And wake the sun that lies too long.
To all our world of well-stol'n joy
He slept, and dreamt of no such thing,
While we found out heav'n's fairer eye,
And kiss'd the cradle of our King.
Tell him he rises now too late
To show us aught worth looking at.
Tell him we now can show him more
Than he e'er show'd to mortal sight,
Than he himself e'er saw before,
Which to be seen needs not his light.
Tell him, Tityrus, where th' hast been;
Tell him, Thyrsis, what th' hast seen.
TITYRUS
Gloomy night embrac'd the place
Where the Noble Infant lay;
The Babe look'd up and show'd his face,
In spite of darkness, it was day.
It was thy day, Sweet! and did rise
Not from the east, but from thine eyes.
CHORUS
It was thy day, Sweet! and did rise
Not from the east, but from thine eyes.
THYRSIS
Winter chid aloud, and sent
The angry North to wage his wars;
The North forgot his fierce intent,
And left perfumes instead of scars.
By those sweet eyes' persuasive pow'rs,
Where he meant frost, he scatter'd flow'rs.
CHORUS
By those sweet eyes' persuasive pow'rs,
Where he meant frost, he scatter'd flow'rs.
BOTH
We saw thee in thy balmy nest,
Young dawn of our eternal day!
We saw thine eyes break from their east
And chase the trembling shades away.
We saw thee, and we bless'd the sight,
We saw thee by thine own sweet light.
TITYRUS
Poor World, said I, what wilt thou do
To entertain this starry stranger?
Is this the best thou canst bestow,
A cold, and not too cleanly, manger?
Contend, ye powers of heav'n and earth,
To fit a bed for this huge birth.
CHORUS
Contend, ye powers of heav'n and earth,
To fit a bed for this huge birth.
THYRSIS
Proud World, said I, cease your contest,
And let the Mighty Babe alone;
The ph{oe}nix builds the ph{oe}nix' nest,
Love's architecture is his own;
The Babe whose birth embraves this morn,
Made his own bed ere he was born.
CHORUS
The Babe whose birth embraves this morn,
Made his own bed ere he was born.
TITYRUS
I saw the curl'd drops, soft and slow,
Come hovering o'er the place's head,
Off'ring their whitest sheets of snow
To furnish the fair Infant's bed.
Forbear, said I, be not too bold;
Your fleece is white, but 'tis too cold.
CHORUS
Forbear, said I, be not too bold;
Your fleece is white, but 'tis too cold.
THYRSIS
I saw the obsequious Seraphims
Their rosy fleece of fire bestow;
For well they now can spare their wings,
Since Heav'n itself lies here below.
Well done, said I, but are you sure
Your down so warm will pass for pure?
CHORUS
Well done, said I, but are you sure
Your down so warm will pass for pure?
TITYRUS
No no, your King's not yet to seek
Where to repose his royal head;
See see, how soon his new-bloom'd cheek
'Twixt's mother's breasts is gone to bed.
Sweet choice, said we! no way but so,
Not to lie cold, yet sleep in snow.
CHORUS
Sweet choice, said we! no way but so,
Not to lie cold, yet sleep in snow.
BOTH
We saw thee in thy balmy nest,
Bright dawn of our eternal day!
We saw thine eyes break from their east,
And chase the trembling shades away.
We saw thee, and we bless'd the sight,
We saw thee, by thine own sweet light.
CHORUS
We saw thee, and we bless'd the sight,
We saw thee, by thine own sweet light.
FULL CHORUS
Welcome, all wonders in one sight!
Eternity shut in a span;
Summer in winter; day in night;
Heaven in earth, and God in man.
Great little one, whose all-embracing birth
Lifts earth to heaven, stoops heav'n to earth.
Welcome; though nor to gold nor silk,
To more than C{ae}sar's birthright is;
Two sister seas of virgin-milk,
With many a rarely temper'd kiss,
That breathes at once both maid and mother,
Warms in the one, cools in the other.
Welcome, though not to those gay flies
Gilded i' th' beams of earthly kings,
Slippery souls in smiling eyes;
But to poor shepherds, homespun things,
Whose wealth's their flock, whose wit, to be
Well read in their simplicity.
Yet when young April's husband-show'rs
Shall bless the fruitful Maia's bed,
We'll bring the first-born of her flow'rs
To kiss thy feet and crown thy head.
To thee, dread Lamb! whose love must keep
The shepherds more than they the sheep.
To thee, meek Majesty! soft King
Of simple graces and sweet loves,
Each of us his lamb will bring,
Each his pair of silver doves;
Till burnt at last in fire of thy fair eyes,
Ourselves become our own best sacrifice.
poem by Richard Crashaw
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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For Christmas Day, Hark! the Herald Angels Sing
Hark! the herald Angels sing,
Glory to the new-born King,
Peace on earth and mercy mild,
God and sinner reconcil'd.
Hark! the herald Angels sing,
Glory to the new-born King.
Joyful all ye nations rise,
Join the triumph of the skies,
With the angelic host proclaim,
Christ is born in Bethlehem.
Hark! the herald Angels sing,
Glory to the new-born King.
Christ by highest Heaven ador'd,
Christ the everlasting Lord!
Late in time behold him come,
Offspring of a virgin's womb.
Hark! the herald Angels sing,
Glory to the new-born King.
Veiled in flesh the Godhead see,
Hail, the incarnate Deity,
Pleased as Man with man to dwell,
Jesus our Immanuel!
Hark! the herald Angels sing,
Glory to the new-born King.
Hail the Heaven-born Prince of Peace!
Hail the Sun of Righteousness!
Light and life to all he brings,
Risen with healing in his wings.
Hark! the herald Angels sing,
Glory to the new-born King.
Mild he lays his glory by,
Born that man no more may die,
Born to raise the sons of earth,
Born to give them second birth.
Hark! the herald Angels sing,
Glory to the new-born King.
poem by Martin Madan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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‘Happy Birthday! ' Dear Mary, Mother of Christ.
Blest is the virgin child who rose
To be, Christ's mother upon earth,
Although immaculate by birth,
And through her fiat, though God chose!
Blest is the womb that bore Jesus,
‘Immanuel' or ‘God with us! '
For although vexed in mind and heart,
Obeying God, she did her part!
Blest is the disciple of Christ,
Who made Him do miracles first;
And shared His agony till cross,
With sorrowful heart, by His loss!
Blest is the Eve who's Heaven's Queen,
With stars upon her crown for sheen,
Who intercedes for sinners all,
Who repent and obey God's call!
Blest is the Lady God-favoured;
To those who pray, she keeps her word;
Recite the rosary and see,
The world of men, transformed holy!
We wish you ‘Happy Birthday' Mother dear;
Heaven rejoicing today, let's all hear;
When we succumb to death, may you be near,
And preserve soul from mortal sin's great fear!
Dedicated lovingly to the Blessed Mary, ever Virgin!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 2-09-12
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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)
Verses from the Shepherds' Hymn
WE saw Thee in Thy balmy nest,
Young dawn of our eternal day;
We saw Thine eyes break from the East,
And chase the trembling shades away:
We saw Thee, and we blest the sight,
We saw Thee by Thine own sweet light.
Poor world, said I, what wilt thou do
To entertain this starry stranger?
Is this the best thou canst bestow--
A cold and not too cleanly manger?
Contend, the powers of heaven and earth,
To fit a bed for this huge birth.
Proud world, said I, cease your contest,
And let the mighty babe alone;
The phoenix builds the phoenix' nest,
Love's architecture is His own.
The babe, whose birth embraves this morn,
Made His own bed ere He was born.
I saw the curl'd drops, soft and slow,
Come hovering o'er the place's head,
Off'ring their whitest sheets of snow,
To furnish the fair infant's bed.
Forbear, said I, be not too bold;
Your fleece is white, but 'tis too cold.
I saw th' obsequious seraphim
Their rosy fleece of fire bestow,
For well they now can spare their wings,
Since Heaven itself lies here below.
Well done, said I; but are you sure
Your down, so warm, will pass for pure?
No, no, your King 's not yet to seek
Where to repose His royal head;
See, see how soon His new-bloom'd cheek
'Twixt mother's breasts is gone to bed!
Sweet choice, said we; no way but so,
Not to lie cold, you sleep in snow!
She sings Thy tears asleep, and dips
Her kisses in Thy weeping eye;
She spreads the red leaves of Thy lips,
That in their buds yet blushing lie.
She 'gainst those mother diamonds tries
The points of her young eagle's eyes.
Welcome--tho' not to those gay flies,
Gilded i' th' beams of earthly kings,
Slippery souls in smiling eyes--
But to poor shepherds, homespun things,
Whose wealth 's their flocks, whose wit 's to be
Well read in their simplicity.
Yet, when young April's husband show'rs
Shall bless the fruitful Maia's bed,
We'll bring the first-born of her flowers,
To kiss Thy feet and crown Thy head.
To Thee, dread Lamb! whose love must keep
The shepherds while they feed their sheep.
To Thee, meek Majesty, soft King
Of simple graces and sweet loves!
Each of us his lamb will bring,
Each his pair of silver doves!
At last, in fire of Thy fair eyes,
Ourselves become our own best sacrifice!
poem by Richard Crashaw
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What’s Up Yonder?
Friend did you ever truly ponder, the sky above and what’s up yonder?
Does your mind ever pierce the sky, to what’s up there and even why?
To a place you have never been, the place many call the third heaven.
A holy place where God resides, that’s well above the temporal skies.
High above these earthly clouds, are multitudes of Heavenly Crowds,
The many saints who went before, now in the presence of The Lord.
It’s a special place we are told, one that’s paved with streets of gold.
In this place flows a Crystal Sea, from under The Throne of Eternity.
And there will be a River of Life, that flows from the Throne of Christ.
On each side is a Tree of Life, for healing the nations of their strife.
There will be no more night, for The Lord God will give all men light.
Heaven’s Light will be His Son; He’s The Eternal Light for everyone.
But, is this place truly there, and why would a Holy God even care?
To extend to mere mortal men, a place for us, to live forever friend.
Heaven is a place that’s pure, and will remain that way forevermore.
A place that’s free of sin and strife, where all men live a blissful Life.
There we’ll have an eternal home, beside God’s Everlasting Throne.
On that Throne, above the sea, where Christ shall reign for Eternity.
Have you ever pondered friend, just where in eternity you will spend?
For Heaven is a place for sure; a place you get to through The Lord.
The curse of earth shall be gone, and replaced with an Eternal Song.
Eternal Praises to Christ our Lord, who upon a wicked cross endured,
A wicked death for both you and me, so that we could live for eternity.
It was His life Christ chose to give, so in Heaven forever we could live.
(Copyright ©12/2005)
Assumption Of The Blessed Mary Ever Virgin, Mother Of Christ
A sun-clad lady rose up in the skies,
With body, soul soon after she had died;
The conception immaculate, divine,
Theotokos, to heaven got assumed!
All Apostles were gathered for the show,
Except St.Thomas, as angels took her,
Through clouds, heaven-wards, to be besides Christ,
Whom she borne with love as earth's mother!
Death dared not prevent her from doing so;
The woman God-favoured is Heaven's queen;
Her role against satan was spectacular;
So, God rewarded her with permanent sheen!
The virgin who bore Christ within her womb,
The lady who gave flesh to God's Word-seed,
And reared him, saw him suffer to the tomb,
Resurrect, thus became blessed indeed!
The mother with a heart of sorrows then,
Was taken now to God's abode - Heaven;
To be united with her womb's fruit, Lord -
Jesus loved her and kept His promised word!
The Son has glorified His loving mom!
She did as God commanded her to do,
And helped defeat satan and his legions;
O Mary, help of Christians, Pray for us!
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lover's Gifts XLIV: Where Is Heaven
Where is heaven? you ask me, my child,-the sages tell us it is
beyond the limits of birth and death, unswayed by the rhythm of day
and night; it is not of the earth.
But your poet knows that its eternal hunger is for time and
space, and it strives evermore to be born in the fruitful dust.
Heaven is fulfilled in your sweet body, my child, in your
palpitating heart.
The sea is beating its drums in joy, the flowers are a-tiptoe
to kiss you. For heaven is born in you, in the arms of the mother-
dust.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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Heaven
The Lord God shall overwhelm, our hearts in that eternal realm,
With bodies that will last forever, while sin surrounds us never,
Now freed from all earthly strife, when we enter into eternal life,
Surrounded in an eternal peace, in a realm that shall not cease.
We will find nothing on earth, to compare with Heaven’s worth,
A pure realm of Eternal Bliss, filled with God’s Righteousness,
With all believers home in Heaven, far from our days of seven,
Now, a timeless realm with Christ, as we enter into Eternal Life.
All who The Lord calls His Own, shall gather around His Throne,
Where God will guide me and you, in Eternity, with much to do,
While we serve The King of kings, in His realm of eternal things,
And our service to Christ my friend, shall never come to an end.
With a new body, that shall last, forever, not bodies of the past,
Receiving eternal bodies, glorified, to live forever at God’s side,
Right by the side of Christ Jesus, for all eternity will be all of us,
All who came to Christ, in faith, all saved by God, by His Grace.
Grace, that allows us to enter in, a Holy Heaven, despite our sin,
Sin, which was cleansed at Calvary, to provide us Life Eternally,
For by His Blood we’re purified, so up in Heaven, we can reside,
With our God and Creator, thanks to Christ, our Lord and Savior.
Paraphrase Of Psalm: CXLVIII
Praise ye the Lord. Praise ye the Lord from the heavens: praise him in the heights.
PRAISE ye the Lord! on every height
Songs to his glory raise!
Ye angel-hosts, ye stars of light,
Join in immortal praise!
Oh! heavens of heavens! let praise far-swelling
From all your orbs be sent!
Join in the strain, ye waters, dwelling
Above the firmament!
For His the word which gave you birth,
And majesty, and might;
Praise to the Highest from the earth,
And let the deeps unite!
Oh! fire and vapor, hail and snow,
Ye servants of His will!
Oh! stormy winds, that only blow
His mandates to fulfil;
Mountains and rocks, to heaven that rise;
Fair cedars of the wood;
Creatures of life, that wing the skies,
Or track the plains for food;
Judges of nations! kings, whose hand
Waves the proud sceptre high!
Oh! youths and virgins of the land,
Oh! age and infancy!
Praise ye His name, to whom alone
All homage should be given;
Whose glory, from th' eternal throne
Spreads wide o'er earth and heaven!
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
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Today... 'The Forerunner
Long before the first aeons of time began
the triune God agreed Salvations great plan.
'Who is it that will go to provide the way? '
'Here I am, send me', the angels heard You say.
Then into this scene you came by virgin birth
to begin the days of Your life here on earth.
Satan wanted You to take another way
But on Calvary's path You wanted to stay
There 'Father forgive them' in anguish You cried
as You bowed Your head in sacrifice and died.
Then through deaths dark sepulchre You descended
until Your sacrificial work has ended.
Three days and nights in death You were to remain
and then You burst through its gates alive again.
For then You began Your glorious ascent
as up into heaven in the clouds You went.
The heavens resounded with tremendous praise
as You approached to the Ancient of Days.
There You were given an eternal kingdom
of people from every tribe and tongue.
Through the Holiest of Places You have gone
to prepare the way for us to follow on.
Secure in You we know that heaven 's our goal.
Having such a hope as this anchors the soul.
The gateway to heaven has been opened wide
and we can now follow our Forerunner inside.
The great Herald of the heavenly kingdom
The long promised One prophesied to come.
(see also the additional information in the Poet's notes box below)
X'mas 2012
Prepare your heart and soul with grace;
Receive the baby ‘King of Kings';
God Father loves the human race;
Peace and joy, only His Son brings!
A boy is born one early morn!
A virgin's womb is home to Him;
The manger sees a newer dawn;
Clothes-swaddled babe sleeps in light dim.
Heaven is now amidst the earth;
The God of light has taken flesh;
It is the second Adam's birth;
Bethlehem's star now gleams afresh.
Shepherds by fire hear news first;
Three kings from east come pay homage;
The angels lead them to boy Christ;
Devils are filled with fear and rage!
Angel choirs sing, ‘Glory to God! '
Emmanuel comes to save sinners;
His death on cross will spare us rod;
Through Jesus Christ, we are winners!
So, celebrate the Christmas Day;
Christ chose to sleep upon just hay;
He is the truth, life and the way;
For mankind's sins, His blood, He'll pay!
God's love is born a child today;
He'll be a man, divine as well;
He shows all sinners heaven's way;
Let angels sing as tolls church bell!
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Parting Soul And Her Guardian Angel
(Written during sickness).
Soul—
Oh! say must I leave this world of light
With its sparkling streams and sunshine bright,
Its budding flowers, its glorious sky?
Vain ’tis to ask me—I cannot die!
Angel—
But, sister, list! in the realms above,
That happy home of eternal love,
Are flowers more fair, and skies more clear
Than those thou dost cling to so fondly here.
Soul—
Ah! yes, but to reach that home of light
I must pass through the fearful vale of night;
And my soul with alarm doth shuddering cry—
O angel, I tell thee, I dare not die!
Angel—
Ah! mortal beloved, in that path untried
Will I be, as ever, still at thy side,
Through gloom to guide till, death’s shadows passed,
Thou nearest, unharmed, God’s throne at last.
Soul—
Alas! too many close ties of love
Around my wavering heart are wove!
Fond, tender voices, press me to stay—
Think’st thou from them I would pass away?
Daily my mother, with anguish wild,
Bends o’er the couch of her dying child,
And one, nearer still, with silent tears,
Betrays his anguish, his gloomy fears—
Yes, even now, while to thee I speak,
Are hot drops falling upon my cheek;
Think you I’d break from so close a tie?
No, my guardian angel, I cannot die!
Angel—
Poor child of earth! how closely clings
Thy heart to earth and to earthly things!
Wilt thou still revolt if I whisper low
That thy Father in Heaven wills it so—
Wills that with Him thou should’st henceforth dwell,
To pray for those whom thou lovest so well,
Till a time shall come when you’ll meet again,
To forget for ever life’s grief and pain?
Soul—
Spirit, thy words have a potent power
O’er my sinking heart in this awful hour,
And thy soft-breathed hopes, with magic might.
Have chased from my soul the shades of night.
Console the dear ones I part from now,
Who hang o’er my couch with pallid brow,
Tell them we’ll meet in yon shining sky—
And, Saviour tender, now let me die!
poem by Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
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Today... 'The Word
Word of love and the Word made flesh
Word incarnate forever blessed
Word of life and the Word of light
Word of power and Word of might.
Word that was spoken, Word of the Lord
Word of the Law and the Word of God
Word of peace and Word eternal
Word of truth and last Word of all.
Word of wisdom and the Word of healing
Word from heaven, a Word so appealing
Word fulfilling the Word of prophecy
Word of the Spirit and Word of destiny.
Word of exhortation and Word of grace
Word of encouragement and Word of faith
Word of promise and a Word of insight
Word from the beginning and Word of delight.
Word of knowledge and a Word of boldness
Word of peace and the Word of righteousness
Word of the covenant and Word of love
Word of the Father from heaven above.
(see also the additional information in the Poet's notes box)
The eternal story
Long before time its race began
or upon earth stepped the first man.
Before planets their circuits made
or light its virgin rays displayed.
The Council of the Triune One
Father, Holy Spirit and Son.
In eternity past did plan
to come and die for sinful man.
'Who shall I send' was the great cry.
'Here I am, send me', the reply.
Then as a small babe wrapped in flesh
came the Lord our Righteousness.
Angelic host proclaimed the birth
for their Lord had come down to earth.
God confined to a human span
had come to live and walk with man.
Jesus lived and walked amongst men
sharing with us wisdom from heaven.
His sinless life men could not stand.
So they removed Him from the land.
The Saviour of the human race
hung upon the cross in disgrace
and then as He succumbed to death.
Upon that tree drew His last breath.
Where as He hung His head to die
'It is finished' came His great cry.
Then deep into the grave He went.
Where three days and three nights He spent.
Hell was not able hold its' prey.
He tore the bars of death away.
He who died came to life again
and arose from that dark domain.
A peon of praise fills the skies.
The Lord our God it magnifies.
Throughout heaven the chorus rings.
Proclaiming Jesus King of kings.
Angel hosts take up the refrain
'Holy is the Lord', they proclaim.
Then our voices join the great throng
singing God's praises all day long.
X’mas
Born was a child in a manger;
Born was the son of God, the Father;
Born was the love of the Maker;
Born was for men, a Redeemer.
Born was a baby boy, a king;
Born was on earth a prophet great;
Born was the love of God in human form;
Born was a Messiah.
Born was a son of a carpenter;
Born was the king of Jews;
Born was the living God as flesh;
Born was a Savior.
Born was a babe, who brought,
Joy and peace to the world;
Born was a babe on a bed of hay,
As angels choirs kept singing on.
Born was the spotless Lamb of God
Who was to die on the cross;
Born was a divine child,
From the Virgin Mary’s womb!
Born was Lord Jesus Christ,
Who paid the price for our sins,
And by His death and resurrection,
Made it possible for sinners too,
To go to Heaven.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 12-25-2006
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pondering My Real Home
At home is where I long to be, up in Heaven, through eternity,
Far above the celestial dome, in Heaven, up in my real home,
In that Mansion prepared for me, right beside the Crystal Sea,
Only passing through this place, going home by God's Grace.
I'm currently here in God's design, living life in temporal time,
But, while on this present earth, I experienced a spiritual birth,
Born Again, by The Spirit of God, given direction on this sod,
His new direction and destiny, that points me well into eternity.
Given, by Christ, a new heart, on God's agenda, until I depart,
Working for God here on earth, in His service of eternal worth,
Looking ahead to Heaven friend, as this life comes to an end,
With a beginning beyond this world, in an eternity yet unfurled.
Although I long to be home, still here I remain, yet not to roam,
But to be used in my earthly life, in the service of Jesus Christ,
To be a witness and a herald, of Good News, into all the world,
Sharing God's Truth of salvation, with all men in this generation.
With my journey directed by, my Lord God, Who reigns on high,
Directing my path as He chooses, as my life for Christ He uses,
While longing for home, I impart, God's Gospel, before I depart,
To be with God forevermore, in a home upon that Eternal Shore.
(Copyright ©11/2012)
Last Night I Dreamed Of Heaven
LAST NIGHT I DREAMED OF HEAVEN
WRITER HANK WILLIAMS
Last night I dreamed of heaven and I saw my mother there
Standing with all the angels on a golden stair
I thought I heard her whisper welcome home my boy
Last night I dreamed of heaven and it filled my heart with joy
I heard the angels singing songs of peace and rest
And then there was a silence
Each eye looked toward the west
There sat my Saviour on his golden throne
Last night I dreamed of heaven my eternal home sweet home
Last night I dreamed of heaven that land so pure and sweet
And the joy within me made my glad heart weep
I was there with my Saviour free from grief and strife
Last night I dreamed of heaven the land of eternal life
I heard the angels singing songs of peace and rest
And then there was a silence
Each eye looked toward the west
There sat my Saviour on his golden throne
Last night I dreamed of heaven my eternal home sweet home
song performed by by Hank Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blessed Among Women --To The Signora Cairoli
Blessed was she that bare,
Hidden in flesh most fair,
For all men's sake the likeness of all love;
Holy that virgin's womb,
The old record saith, on whom
The glory of God alighted as a dove;
Blessed, who brought to gracious birth
The sweet-souled Saviour of a man-tormented earth.
But four times art thou blest,
At whose most holy breast
Four times a godlike soldier-saviour hung;
And thence a fourfold Christ
Given to be sacrificed
To the same cross as the same bosom clung;
Poured the same blood, to leave the same
Light on the many-folded mountain-skirts of fame.
Shall they and thou not live,
The children thou didst give
Forth of thine hands, a godlike gift, to death,
Through fire of death to pass
For her high sake that was
Thine and their mother, that gave all you breath?
Shall ye not live till time drop dead,
O mother, and each her children's consecrated head?
Many brought gifts to take
For her love's supreme sake,
Life and life's love, pleasure and praise and rest,
And went forth bare; but thou,
So much once richer, and now
Poorer than all these, more than these be blest;
Poorer so much, by so much given,
Than who gives earth for heaven's sake, not for earth's sake heaven.
Somewhat could each soul save,
What thing soever it gave,
But thine, mother, what has thy soul kept back?
None of thine all, not one,
To serve thee and be thy son,
Feed with love all thy days, lest one day lack;
All thy whole life's love, thine heart's whole,
Thou hast given as who gives gladly, O thou the supreme soul.
The heart's pure flesh and blood,
The heaven thy motherhood,
The live lips, the live eyes, that lived on thee;
The hands that clove with sweet
Blind clutch to thine, the feet
That felt on earth their first way to thy knee;
The little laughter of mouths milk-fed,
Now open again to feed on dust among the dead;
The fair, strong, young men's strength,
Light of life-days and length,
And glory of earth seen under and stars above,
And years that bring to tame
Now the wild falcon fame,
Now, to stroke smooth, the dove-white breast of love;
The life unlived, the unsown seeds,
Suns unbeholden, songs unsung, and undone deeds.
Therefore shall man's love be
As an own son to thee,
And the world's worship of thee for a child;
All thine own land as one
New-born, a nursing son,
All thine own people a new birth undefiled;
And all the unborn Italian time,
And all its glory, and all its works, thy seed sublime.
That henceforth no man's breath,
Saying "Italy," but saith
In that most sovereign word thine equal name;
Nor can one speak of thee
But he saith "Italy,"
Seeing in two suns one co-eternal flame;
One heat, one heaven, one heart, one fire,
One light, one love, one benediction, one desire.
Blest above praise and prayer
And incense of men's air,
Thy place is higher than where such voices rise
As in men's temples make
Music for some vain sake,
This God's or that God's, in one weary wise;
Thee the soul silent, the shut heart,
The locked lips of the spirit praise thee that thou art.
Yea, for man's whole life's length,
And with man's whole soul's strength,
We praise thee, O holy, and bless thee, O mother of lights;
And send forth as on wings
The world's heart's thanksgivings,
Song-birds to sing thy days through and thy nights;
And wrap thee around and arch thee above
With the air of benediction and the heaven of love.
And toward thee our unbreathed words
Fly speechless, winged as birds,
As the Indian flock, children of Paradise,
The winged things without feet,
Fed with God's dew for meat,
That live in the air and light of the utter skies;
So fleet, so flying a footless flight,
With wings for feet love seeks thee, to partake thy sight.
Love like a clear sky spread
Bends over thy loved head,
As a new heaven bends over a new-born earth,
When the old night's womb is great
With young stars passionate
And fair new planets fiery-fresh from birth;
And moon-white here, there hot like Mars,
Souls that are worlds shine on thee, spirits that are stars.
Till the whole sky burns through
With heaven's own heart-deep hue,
With passion-coloured glories of lit souls;
And thine above all names
Writ highest with lettering flames
Lightens, and all the old starriest aureoles
And all the old holiest memories wane,
And the old names of love's chosen, found in thy sight vain.
And crowned heads are discrowned,
And stars sink without sound,
And love's self for thy love's sake waxes pale
Seeing from his storied skies
In what new reverent wise
Thee Rome's most highest, her sovereign daughters, hail;
Thee Portia, thee Veturia grey,
Thee Arria, thee Cornelia, Roman more than they.
Even all these as all we
Subdue themselves to thee,
Bow their heads haloed, quench their fiery fame;
Seen through dim years divine,
Their faint lights feminine
Sink, then spring up rekindled from thy flame;
Fade, then reflower and reillume
From thy fresh spring their wintering age with new-blown bloom.
To thy much holier head
Even theirs, the holy and dead,
Bow themselves each one from her heavenward height;
Each in her shining turn,
All tremble toward thee and yearn
To melt in thine their consummated light;
Till from day's Capitolian dome
One glory of many glories lighten upon Rome.
Hush thyself, song, and cease,
Close, lips, and hold your peace;
What help hast thou, what part have ye herein?
But you, with sweet shut eyes,
Heart-hidden memories,
Dreams and dumb thoughts that keep what things have been
Silent, and pure of all words said,
Praise without song the living, without dirge the dead.
Thou, strengthless in these things,
Song, fold thy feebler wings,
And as a pilgrim go forth girt and shod,
And where the new graves are,
And where the sunset star,
To the pure spirit of man that men call God,
To the high soul of things, that is
Made of men's heavenlier hopes and mightier memories;
To the elements that make
For the soul's living sake
This raiment of dead things, of shadow and trance,
That give us chance and time
Wherein to aspire and climb
And set our life's work higher than time or chance
The old sacred elements, that give
The breath of life to days that die, to deeds that live;
To them, veiled gods and great,
There bow thee and dedicate
The speechless spirit in these thy weak words hidden;
And mix thy reverent breath
With holier air of death,
At the high feast of sorrow a guest unbidden,
Till with divine triumphal tears
Thou fill men's eyes who listen with a heart that hears.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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