To Wolcott Balestier
Beyond the path of the outmost sun through utter darkness hurled --
Further than ever comet flared or vagrant star-dust swirled --
Live such as fought and sailed and ruled and loved and made our world.
They are purged of pride because they died, they know the worth of their bays,
They sit at wine with the Maidens Nine and the Gods of the Elder Days,
It is their will to serve or be still as fitteth our Father's praise.
'Tis theirs to sweep through the ringing deep where Azrael's outposts are,
Or buffet a path through the Pit's red wrath when God goes out to war,
Or hang with the reckless Seraphim on the rein of a red-maned star.
They take their mirth in the joy of the Earth --
they dare not grieve for her pain --
They know of toil and the end of toil, they know God's law is plain,
So they whistle the Devil to make them sport who know that Sin is vain.
And ofttimes cometh our wise Lord God, master of every trade,
And tells them tales of His daily toil, of Edens newly made;
And they rise to their feet as He passes by, gentlemen unafraid.
To these who are cleansed of base Desire, Sorrow and Lust and Shame --
Gods for they knew the hearts of men, men for they stooped to Fame,
Borne on the breath that men call Death, my brother's spirit came.
He scarce had need to doff his pride or slough the dross of Earth --
E'en as he trod that day to God so walked he from his birth,
In simpleness and gentleness and honour and clean mirth.
So cup to lip in fellowship they gave him welcome high
And made him place at the banquet board -- the Strong Men ranged thereby,
Who had done his work and held his peace and had no fear to die.
Beyond the loom of the last lone star, through open darkness hurled,
Further than rebel comet dared or hiving star-swarm swirled,
Sits he with those that praise our God for that they served His world.
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Mundane Toil
Life in itself is quite mundane, as each new day is quite the same.
Being in the world’s daily grind, can really weary ones poor mind.
Daily routines do not change, as their frustrations remain the same.
Painful toil throughout the days, wears on your being in many ways.
A far cry from a garden of bliss, that peaceful place man must miss.
All is attributed to Adam’s fall, the ground was cursed, do you recall?
Now thorns and thistles cover earth, as woman has pain in child birth,
And woman’s desire is for her man, as her sin had altered God’s plan.
Man from the sweat of his brow, must work to feed a family somehow.
And all just seems to get worse, and all because of that original curse.
One day there will be no more curse, and no more toil upon this earth.
In a New Heaven and a New Earth, all toil shall become eternal mirth.
As we serve God with joy and bliss, the former earth, we will not miss.
Pain and hurt shall be no more, as we eternally serve The Risen Lord.
And there will flow The Water of Life, from the Throne of Jesus Christ.
On each side of The River of Life, there for all will be The Tree of Life,
To produce fruit throughout the year, for all of the nations, far and near.
The leaves will heal every nation, who has come to Christ for Salvation.
With Christ the center and The Light, Eternity shall have no more night,
With no more darkness or toil friend, it is a blissful eternity with no end.
Tribute to Gladstone
Lift up your heads; in life, in death,
God knoweth his head was high;
Quit we the coward's broken breath,
Who watched a strong man die.
If ye must say "No more his peer
Cometh: the flag is furled,"
Stand not too near him; lest we hear
That slander on the world
The good green earth he loved and trod
Is still, with many a scar,
Writ in the chronicles of God
A giant-bearing star.
He fell: but Britain's banner swings
Above his sunken crown;
Black Death shall have his toil of kings
Before the cross goes down.
O young ones of a darker day,
In Art's wan colours clad,
Whose very love and hate are grey,
Whose very sin is sad,
Pass on: one agony long-drawn
Was merrier than your mirth;
When hand in hand came death and dawn
And spring was on the earth.
poem by G.K. Chesterton
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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A especial star...
Above the clouds there is a star
A star that looks down on me
A star that I makes my wishes shine
A star that brightens my path
A star that enlightens my world
A star that makes me feel loved
A star that makes me dreams come true
A star that breaks my loneliness
A star that makes me smile
A star that I up to and not down on
A star that protects me from my enemies
A star that brings my bliss and hope
A star that sticks to its promises
A star that supports me take me as I am
A star that never fades away...
A star that will live with me forever and ever.....
poem by Joy O'Pateng
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A star......
Above the clouds there is a star
A star that looks down on me
A star that I makes my wishes shine
A star that brightens my path
A star that enlightens my world
A star that makes me feel loved
A star that makes me dreams come true
A star that breaks my loneliness
A star that makes me smile
A star that I look up to and not down on
A star that protects me from my enemies
A star that brings my bliss and hope
A star that sticks to its promises
A star that supports me take me as I am
A star that never fades away...
A star that will live with me forever and ever.....
poem by Joy O' Pateng
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Tribute to Gladstone
Lift up your heads; in life, in death,
God knoweth his head was high;
Quit we the coward's broken breath,
Who watched a strong man die.
If ye must say 'No more his peer
Cometh: the flag is furled,'
Stand not too near him; lest we hear
That slander on the world
The good green earth he loved and trod
Is still, with many a scar,
Writ in the chronicles of God
A giant-bearing star.
He fell: but Britain's banner swings
Above his sunken crown;
Black Death shall have his toil of kings
Before the cross goes down.
O young ones of a darker day,
In Art's wan colours clad,
Whose very love and hate are grey,
Whose very sin is sad,
Pass on: one agony long-drawn
Was merrier than your mirth;
When hand in hand came death and dawn
And spring was on the earth.
poem by Gilbert Keith Chesterton
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A Naughty Little Comet
There was a little comet who lived near the Milky Way!
She loved to wander out at night and jump about and play.
The mother of the comet was a very good old star;
She used to scold her reckless child for venturing out too far.
She told her of the ogre, Sun, who loved on stars to sup,
And who asked no better pastime than in gobbling comets up.
But instead of growing cautious and of showing proper fear,
The foolish little comet edged up nearer, and more near.
She switched her saucy tail along right where the Sun could see,
And flirted with old Mars, and was as bold as bold could be.
She laughed to scorn the quiet stars who never frisked about;
She said there was no fun in life unless you ventured out.
She liked to make the planets stare, and wished no better mirth
Than just to see the telescopes aimed at her from the Earth.
She wondered how so many stars could mope through nights and days,
And let the sickly faced old Moon get all the love and praise.
And as she talked and tossed her head and switched her shining trail
The staid old mother star grew sad, her cheek grew wan and pale.
For she had lived there in the skies a million years or more,
And she had heard gay comets talk in just this way before.
And by and by there came an end to this gay comet's fun.
She went a tiny bit too far-and vanished in the Sun!
No more she swings her shining trail before the whole world's sight,
But quiet stars she laughed to scorn are twinkling every night.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Falling Stars.
Only a falling star!
What was it to him
If millions of mortals were
Hurled down the dim
Dark void to the abyss?
His world was this.
Only a falling star!
The Earth was sure
To outlive him at least:
Whatever were
Their fates who yonder passed,
His star would last!
Only a falling star!
What if some day
The Earth, as in a flash,
Too, passed away,
Would, say, a Mars-man sigh
As we flamed by?
Only a world gone out
With all its care —
God! but a speck at most
In Thy great air,
As 'twere an insect's breath
Breathed out in death.
poem by Robert Crawford
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To the hero of toil
Another days labour for the man at the front
another days work of sweat and of grunt
of straining of muscle of tendon and joint
no praise for the hero of toil
Head down and end up as he reshapes the earth
for the rich and the mighty he'll give all he's worth
with the spade and the hammer he was handed at birth
no praise for the hero of toil
In the darkest of climates he'll give it his last
he wont mumble or groan, he's just one of his class
with the spit on his hands he'll get on with the task
no praise for the hero of toil
Where would we be if it weren't for him
our lives would be dull and our futures be dim
yet he still carries on while the rich sip their gin
no praise for the hero of toil.
poem by Charles M. Moore
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My shiney star
You are the best thing that ever happen to you mom
you light the path to my heart with your smile
You brought you mom to relative when you were born into this world
you are your mom pride and joy and my shiny star
You are an angel that guided your mom in the right path
You are my shiny that bring joy in my life
You are my shiny star that just takes my breath away
You are the most beautiful and elegant star that shines so bright
When I held you in my arms for the very first time I knew i loved you
You are the greatest gift that a aunt could ask for, You are a one of kind that stole my love
Your my niece the one I treasure and who i love dearly
You are my shiny star that brings joy to my life when your near.
poem by Candymarie Nevin
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A Child of the Snows
There is heard a hymn when the panes are dim,
And never before or again,
When the nights are strong with a darkness long,
And the dark is alive with rain.
Never we know but in sleet and in snow,
The place where the great fires are,
That the midst of the earth is a raging mirth
And the heart of the earth a star.
And at night we win to the ancient inn
Where the child in the frost is furled,
We follow the feet where all souls meet
At the inn at the end of the world.
The gods lie dead where the leaves lie red,
For the flame of the sun is flown,
The gods lie cold where the leaves lie gold,
And a Child comes forth alone.
poem by G.K. Chesterton
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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A Flower's Song
Star! Star, why dost thou shine
Each night upon my brow?
Why dost thou make me dream the dreams
That I am dreaming now?
Star! Star, thy home is high --
I am of humble birth;
Thy feet walk shining o'er the sky,
Mine, only on the earth.
Star! Star, why make me dream?
My dreams are all untrue;
And why is sorrow dark for me
And heaven bright for you?
Star! Star, oh, hide thy ray,
And take it off my face;
Within my lowly home I stay,
Thou, in thy lofty place.
Star! Star, and still I dream,
Along thy light afar
I seem to soar until I seem
To be, like you, a star.
poem by Abram Joseph Ryan
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A Child of the Snows
There is heard a hymn when the panes are dim,
And never before or again,
When the nights are strong with a darkness long,
And the dark is alive with rain.
Never we know but in sleet and in snow,
The place where the great fires are,
That the midst of the earth is a raging mirth
And the heart of the earth a star.
And at night we win to the ancient inn
Where the child in the frost is furled,
We follow the feet where all souls meet
At the inn at the end of the world.
The gods lie dead where the leaves lie red,
For the flame of the sun is flown,
The gods lie cold where the leaves lie gold,
And a Child comes forth alone.
poem by Gilbert Keith Chesterton
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Who Do You Think Youre Foolin
You made it to the bright lights
You only come alive at night
Youre one of the sights
You hang out with those big names
A rising star out on the gain
Thats the price of your fame
(fame is only a dream land away)
Who do you think youre foolin
(youre foolin)
Who do you think you are
Who do you think youre foolin
Youre a star, youre a star
Who do you think youre foolin
(youre foolin)
Who do you think you are
Who do you think youre foolin
Youre a star, such a star, youre a star?
Youre halfway up the ladder
Or are you really halfway down
You never know in this town
But you swear youre gonna make it
And you dont care how you fake your life
Youre gonna make it alright
(fame is only a dream world away)
Who do you think youre foolin
(youre foolin)
Who do you think you are
Who do you think youre foolin
Youre a star, youre a star
Who do you think youre foolin
(youre foolin)
Who do you think you are
Who do you think youre foolin
Youre a star, such a star, youre a star?
Fame is only a dream world away
Fame is only a dream world away
Who do you think youre foolin
(youre foolin)
Who do you think you are
Who do you think youre foolin
Youre a star, youre a star
Who do you think youre foolin
(youre foolin)
Who do you think you are
Who do you think youre foolin
Youre a star, such a star, youre a star?
song performed by by Donna Summer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rejoice Within
Even in the darkest of days, from our heart, The Lord we can praise,
From the beginning to the very end, we can be truly thankful friend.
Even when all seems to go wrong, Jesus has placed in us His Song,
That from our heart we can raise, joyfully up to The Lord His praise.
As you journey upon this earth, Christ fills you with song and mirth.
And we can praise Him, for who He is, as we ponder Eternal Bliss,
For all this darkness will not last, and soon it will be in eternity past.
And as the darkness is no more, we’ll be eternally praising The Lord.
Christ fills us with a joy and peace, which in our trials will not cease.
Friend, from The Spirit living inside, flows a joy that we can not hide.
This joy inside is not from earth, but from Heaven through New Birth.
It’s a joy that sets Believers apart, putting Eternal Peace in our heart.
Friend, all the praise from within, comes not from us but is from Him,
You too can have this peace within, for Christ also died for your sin.
Yes my friend, Christ died for you, Christ died to give you life anew.
You can have New Life in Christ, as His death for you is Eternal Life.
Together we can give God praise, as we look forward to Eternal Days.
Today if you make that Eternal choice, you will friend, forever rejoice.
Rejoice my friend, in The Lord, and then receive an Eternal Reward.
Today is the day you can begin, to live for Christ and rejoice within.
The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part IV: Vita Nova: LXXXIX
THE LIMIT OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE
There is a vice in the world's reasoning. Man
Has conquered knowledge. He has conquered power;
He has traced out the universal plan
Of the Earth's being; and in this last hour
He has unmade the God which he had made.
I cannot doubt but he at length has read
The riddle of the Earth; that he is wise.
He also hath dominion charterèd
Over the lands, the oceans, and the skies,
Which toil and sweat to give him daily bread.
--Knowledge he hath, and power upon the Earth,
And long ago he had himself been God,
But for the cruel secret of his birth,
Which gave him kindred with the dust he trod,
And for the hideous ending of his mirth,
A fly--blown carrion festering 'neath the sod.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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De Profundis
Come let us curse our Master ere we die,
For all our hopes in endless ruin lie.
The good is dead. Let us curse God most High.
Four thousand years of toil and hope and thought
Wherein man laboured upward and still wrought
New worlds and better, Thou hast made as naught.
We built us joyful cities, strong and fair,
Knowledge we sought and gathered wisdom rare.
And all this time you laughed upon our care,
And suddenly the earth grew black with wrong,
Our hope was crushed and silenced was our song,
The heaven grew loud with weeping. Thou art strong.
Come then and curse the Lord. Over the earth
Gross darkness falls, and evil was our birth
And our few happy days of little worth.
Even if it be not all a dream in vain
—The ancient hope that still will rise again—
Of a just God that cares for earthly pain,
Yet far away beyond our labouring night,
He wanders in the depths of endless light,
Singing alone his musics of delight;
Only the far, spent echo of his song
Our dungeons and deep cells can smite along,
And Thou art nearer. Thou art very strong.
O universal strength, I know it well,
It is but froth of folly to rebel;
For thou art Lord and hast the keys of Hell.
Yet I will not bow down to thee nor love thee,
For looking in my own heart I can prove thee,
And know this frail, bruised being is above thee.
Our love, our hope, our thirsting for the right,
Our mercy and long seeking of the light,
Shall we change these for thy relentless might?
Laugh then and slay. Shatter all things of worth,
Heap torment still on torment for thy mirth—
Thou art not Lord while there are Men on earth.
poem by Clive Staples Lewis
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Church Without Walls
We serve a Saviour good as gold,
The greatest story ever told!
The King of Kings, the Lord of Lords,
Lifegiver of love's pure rewards...
We live by faith, we testify,
Eternal life can never die!
We fellowship both near and far,
To pray and wish upon a star.
Lord Jesus is that star, that light,
That shines for us by day and night!
Christ leads the Way to Heaven's Throne,
Reminding us we're not alone...
For in His Name, we daily walk
And of His glory we would talk,
To save the lost who need God's grace,
To see the Father in Christ's face...
Give praise with us and magnify,
Give glory to the Lord on high!
Let's preach and prophesy of Him,
Who daily fills us to the brim!
Thus we in all good works excel,
For Jesus, our Emmanuel...
Think not that we ourselves were good,
Or daily did the things we should,
For all, like sheep, have gone astray...
Till Calvary and Good Friday,
When Jesus bled and died to save
And Easter Sunday left His grave!
Then God's good Spirit helped men search
To find God's grace within the Church...
Yet now, without walls, we on Earth,
Will tell the world about His worth,
That all might know the Saviour's Name,
His light and His eternal flame,
His Book of Life, His destiny!
The King who died for you and me...
Thus of His Kingdom there's no end,
That's why we trust in Him, our friend,
Who one day will return and reign!
A thousand years of peace! Amen...
(May 2011)
poem by Denis Martindale
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Hymn To The God Of War
From every quarter we,
Who bent the trembling knee
And cowered or grovelled prostrate day and night,
Now come once more to sing
A dirge before thee, King,
Once more with earnest heart to do thee right.
Have we not hailed thee God?
Our weary feet have trod
The vasty barren sands and treacherous ice,
With many a bitter cry,
To pile thine altar high
With pallid human hearts in sacrifice.
We hated thee and came
With eyes of shifty shame,
With heavy steel above the craven breast,
Yet evermore we did
The ill thy servants bid,
For everywhere thy might was manifest.
At thy sibilant word
We were filled with distrust,
And we glared on each other,
All horribly stirred
Against sister and brother;
Our green hopes were wilted and riven, our red-running blood was as dust.
And a foul poison ran
Through the veins of the world,
And we waited and wondered.
By magical ban
We were cruelly sundered,
Then a maniac hatred upcaught us and deep into hell we were hurled.
We have crept to thee, God,
In the day of thy wrath,
We have wept, we have fasted,
We have crimsoned the sod
That thy worship has blasted,
And have seen thee stalk pale and triumphant where nations fell flat in thy path.
Yet out of the dust and the flame,
The squalor and muddle of crime,
A red waving blossom there came
And a scent on the tempest of time.
Heroic and splendid, we threw
Our lives to be oil in the fire,
But a marvel of fellowship grew
As the blaze bickered broader and higher,
And the soul of a people stood up, and spoke to us all from the pyre.
And lo, we are come to thy shrine,
O God, but we ask for no grace,
For our hearts are made glad with a wine
That is death to the craven and base,
And thy shrine shall be burnt for our mirth
And thine altar be turned to thy bier,
For, if Love be our Lord upon earth,
What corner is left for thee here?
The veil of thy temple is rent—and behold, thou hast vanished, O Fear!
poem by John Le Gay Brereton
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Little Star
Brother you are truly the little star.
You dreamed to reach the top
And amazingly you did it.
Brother you are truly the little star.
You wished to be the saviour and you made it.
And made us the most proud people in the universe.
Brother you are truly the little star.
You desired to be the most shinning one in the sky,
And today I am glad to see you there.
Brother you are truly the little star.
Your passion and your success,
Is inspiration to all the youngsters,
Who dream to be the most dreamed one.
Brother you are truly the little star.
You crossed all the hurdles,
On your way to your mission.
And passed each and every examinations,
And finally reached your goal.
Proving that,
Nothing can stop a Born Star.
Brother you are truly the little star.
For all those,
Who never believed on you and your dream,
Finally you replied them with your action,
Without offending them by any means.
Brother you are truly the little star.
Also for that Mother,
Who had been waiting all these years,
Hoping that her smallest one will,
Surely quench her thrust one fine day.
You made it.
poem by Pratisha Karki
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The Voice of Toil
I heard men saying, Leave hope and praying,
All days shall be as all have been;
To-day and to-morrow bring fear and sorrow,
The never-ending toil between.
When Earth was younger mid toil and hunger,
In hope we strove, and our hands were strong;
Then great men led us, with words they fed us,
And bade us right the earthly wrong.
Go read in story their deeds and glory,
Their names amidst the nameless dead;
Turn then from lying to us slow-dying
In that good world to which they led;
Where fast and faster our iron master,
The thing we made, for ever drives,
Bids us grind treasure and fashion pleasure
For other hopes and other lives.
Where home is a hovel and dull we grovel,
Forgetting that the world is fair;
Where no babe we cherish, lest its very soul perish;
Where mirth is crime, and love a snare.
Who now shall lead us, what God shall heed us
As we lie in the hell our hands have won?
For us are no rulers but fools and befoolers,
The great are fallen, the wise men gone.
I heard men saying, Leave tears and praying,
The sharp knife heedeth not the sheep;
Are we not stronger than the rich and the wronger,
When day breaks over dreams and sleep?
Come, shoulder to shoulder ere the world grows older!
Help lies in nought but thee and me;
Hope is before us, the long years that bore us
Bore leaders more than men may be.
Let dead hearts tarry and trade and marry,
And trembling nurse their dreams of mirth,
While we the living our lives are giving
To bring the bright new world to birth.
Come, shoulder to shoulder ere Earth grows older!
The Cause spreads over land and sea;
Now the world shaketh, and fear awaketh,
And joy at last for thee and me.
poem by William Morris
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