Sunrise
'Sunrise is an event that calls forth solemn music in the very depths of man's nature, as if one's whole being has to attune itself to the cosmos and praise God for the new day, praise Him in the name of all the creatures that ever were or ever will be.' Thomas Merton, Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander
Oh call me softly
in the morning!
With winter's sun
paint golden
the pale trees.
In deep waters,
in cool ponds brush my
legs, caress
my tender feet.
Your breath flies
through the green
canyons.
With tongues
of flame
oh, ravish me!
poem by Steven Federle
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This Day Will Not Come Again
'A sweet summer afternoon. Cool breezes and a clear sky. This day will not come again.
The young bulls lie under a tree in the corner of their field. Quiet afternoon. Blue hills.
Day lilies nod in the wind. This day will not come again. '
Thomas Merton, Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander
I expected the slight rise
in the east, the sky
growing slate, then
blushing pink and
suddenly blue.
The winter tree
is often
bathed in gold,
and the familiar song
of thrush and jay,
woodpecker's rapid tapping
brash geese
shouting,
are often the same
from one to another day.
But this sudden breeze,
freshening breath
of the butterfly,
the warmth
the joyful cry!
My God is here!
I breathe,
I sigh.
poem by Steven Federle
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Summer River
"It might be good to open our eyes and see." Thomas Merton
summer river
ore' shading trees,
hanging leaves casting
green sheen on waters,
on the deep
unbroken mirror
when, rising from night
it breaks lightning
and draws first breath
of thin air.
Discovery made,
it falls back
into the cool
watery shade.
poem by Steven Federle
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Praise God, from whom all blessings flow! Praise Him, all creatures here below! Praise Him above, ye heavenly host! Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost!
quote by Thomas Ken
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Morning, Good Friday
Therefore let me know trust in the feelings of my heart. My hope is in what the hand of man has never touched. Do not let me trust what I can grasp between my fingers.
Thomas Merton, Thoughts in Solitude.
Young grass
high and thick
drenched
filled to brim,
by morning sun released
a fury of green, trees
believing that golden day
will stay.
Persist, oh life,
despite the cold of winter,
and beat, my heart!
With tender heat
yet awhile
I'll breathe!
poem by Steven Federle
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By reading the scriptures I am so renewed that all nature seems renewed around me and with me. The sky seems to be a pure, a cooler blue, the trees a deeper green. The whole world is charged with the glory of God and I feel fire and music under my feet.
quote by Thomas Merton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Morning Has Broken
Morning has broken, like the first morning
Blackbird has spoken, like the first bird
Praise for the singing, praise for the morning
Praise for them springing fresh from the world
Sweet the rains new fall, sunlit from heaven
Like the first dewfall, on the first grass
Praise for the sweetness of the wet garden
Sprung in completeness where his feet pass
Mine is the sunlight, mine is the morning
Born of the one light, eden saw play
Praise with elation, praise every morning
Gods recreation of the new day
song performed by by Cat Stevens
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In The Mornin
In the mornin'
When my feet hit the floor,
I will praise Him.
Yes I,
Praise Him.
In the mornin'
When I walk out my door,
I praise Him.
Yes I,
Praise Him.
When I praise Him I keep motivated.
And my heart is elevated!
Shaking trouble makers away.
When I praise Him I know He's my Savior,
Saving me from bad behavior.
And those who bait that hate,
Wont spoil my flavor.
In the mornin'
When I'm yawning at dawn,
I praise Him.
Yes I,
Praise Him.
In the mornin'
I've got faith so strong.
'Cause I'm blessed to know that God is with me,
All day long!
In the mornin'
When my feet hit the floor,
I will praise Him.
Yes I,
Praise Him.
In the mornin'
When I walk out my door,
I praise Him.
Yes I,
Praise Him.
Oh yes I,
Praise Him.
Yes I,
Praise Him.
Oh yes I...
Praise Him.
Yes I,
Praise Him!
Oh yes I...
Praise Him.
In the mornin'
When I walk out my door,
I praise Him.
Yes I,
Praise Him.
And dedicated
'To my 'Roots'.
I keep re-booted! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Psalm 150
Praise the Lord of the morning
When the sun rises from its sleep
Praise the Lord for His excellent greatness
For His beauty makes me weep
Praise the Lord when the darkness falls
And the moon rises high above
Praise the Lord for His majestic glory
And His everlasting love
Praise the Lord in the winter
When the snow falls on the ground
Praise the Lord for His glorious presence
When we stand upon holy ground
Praise the Lord of the summer
When the days are warm and long
Praise the Lord for His magnificent splendor
And the saints shall sing a new song
Praise the Lord of the springtime
When the blossoms on the tree
Praise the Lord for His holiness
And for the Blood that set us free
Praise the Lord of the Autumn
When the leaves fall to the ground
Praise the Lord for His faithfulness
And that His grace abounds
Praise the Lord when your happy
And there's a smile upon your face
Praise the Lord for His mercy
And for His saving grace
Praise the Lord when you're in despair
And your pierced by a fiery dart
Praise the Lord for HIs loving kindness
That restores your broken heart
Praise the Lord with your last breath
As you lie upon your bed
Praise the Lord for His promises
To raise you from the dead
Praise the Lord for all eternity
As you gather around His throne
Praise the Lord for His incredible beauty
As you worship Him alone
Let trumpet, harp and timbrel praise
And dance before the King
Let all with breath praise the Lord
And with their voices sing
Hallelujah to the King of Kings
We worship and bow down
We sing to you forever more
And we will crown Him with many crowns
poem by Frank McEleny
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Saint
Louis Tiffany and Company, 'Dogwood' Design Window: 1910-1915.
"The pale flowers of the dogwood outside this window are saints. The little yellow flowers that nobody notices on the edge of that road are saints looking up into the face of God." Merton, Thomas, When the Trees Say Nothing: Writings on Nature
Her black eyes gaze
with pleasure.
My hand
flows slowly over her sinew,
ears, fur; she purrs in praise
that life is right,
hunger sated,
love remains.
Looking into her eyes
I see a flame
beyond her understanding
beyond my understanding:
the spark
of the being
freely given,
freely accepted.
poem by Steven Federle
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We Must Be Grateful
'For all God's gifts there must be in us a response of
thanksgiving and happiness and joy.'
Thomas Merton, Seeds of Contemplation.
***
We must be grateful
when the old ones leave.
Forsaking the March sun,
they brush off tender, white blossoms.
Past the fleeing migrations,
they exhale their final, tainted breath.
Rising from earthen bones
in deep silence, new hymns intone
of thanksgiving and joy
and home.
poem by Steven Federle
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After the Massacre
'The real point of the contemplative life has always been a deepening of faith so that our union with God is experienced.' Thomas Merton
Close to the ground
there is darkness.
Deep shadows
fill the spaces,
trunk to trunk.
They cling,
spread wide roots,
hold on,
resist
the savage pull
of night;
but higher geese
shout praise
as brightness lifts
their strong wings.
Trees nod,
and raise high branches
to faithful God,
positive flame
making bright
hidden day.
poem by Steven Federle
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O Precious Lord
Oh precious Lord I call on you
Call upon your Holy name
Oh precious Lord send your Spirit now
Come and light your Holy flame
Oh precious Lord in times of need
When there's no-one else around
Oh precious Lord it seems like your not there
And there's no help to be found
Oh precious Lord, will I never learn
Whether hills or depths of seas
That I will always find you Lord
When I get upon my knees
Oh precious Lord, I call on you
And exalt your Holy name
I praise you Lord and I worship you
And I praise your Holy flame
Oh precious Lord, I call on you
Call upon your Holy name
Yesterday, today, and forever Lord
You will always be the same
poem by Frank McEleny
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Praise, My Soul, the King of Heaven
Praise, my soul, the King of Heaven;
To His feet Thy tribute bring!
Ransomed, healed, restored, forgiven,
Who like me His praise should sing?
Praise Him! praise Him!
Praise the everlasting King!
Praise Him for His grace and favour,
To our fathers in distress!
Praise Him still the same for ever,
Slow to chide, and swift to bless!
Praise Him! praise Him!
Glorious in His faithfulness!
Father-like, He tends and spares us;
Well our feeble frame He knows.
In His hands He gently bears us,
Rescues us from all our foes,
Praise Him! praise Him!
Widely as His mercy flows!
Frail as summer's flower we flourish:
Blows the wind, and it is gone.
But while mortals rise and perish,
God endures unchanging on.
Praise Him, Praise Him,
Praise the high eternal One!
Angels, help us to adore Him;
Ye behold Him face to face:
Sun and moon, bow down before Him;
Dwellers all in time and space,
Praise Him! praise Him!
Praise with us the God of grace!
poem by Henry Francis Lyte
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From the biography of an unknown woman: XVII
From static waters to
Puddles and ponds to
Streams and canals to
rivers and seas she, this
Unknown woman steers
Her engrossing course
During the course,
She's a ripple
Is at the mercy of waves
Gets pushed to varied depths
Struggled for breath...
If ever you chance to
dive deep into the sea
There you would find her
One among the many species
That naturally survive
At unfathomable depths...
10may2010
01.09hrs
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Psalm CL.
Praise ye the Lord, your Songs address
To praise His Holynes:
O praise Him in His pow'rs extent,
Who rules the firmament.
Praise Him for all His acts of might,
Our wonder which invite:
In praises due His greatness tell,
Which all things doth excell.
Praise Him with Trumpets lofty sound,
With Cornets shake the ground:
His praise the Psaltery inspire,
With the melodious Lyre.
Praise him with Timbrells, and advance
His honour in the Dance.
Praise Him with Organs, Violls, Flutes,
And the well-stringed Lutes.
With Cymbals loud Him magnify,
Praise Him on Cymbals high:
Let every creature, that hath breath,
His Maker praise till death.
poem by Henry King
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Harvest Festival
When on a glorious day – one such as this –
you’re overcome with awe and wonder, praise,
and part-formed gratitude… which seeks some one
to thank for this, by laying at their feet
all that the world has brought us unannounced
as seedcorn turned to golden harvest wheat –
then who would hesitate, to draw in light
a greater One as whom to kneel before,
to make of our humility, a ‘One’
as if we were some grateful ‘other’; we,
less worthy, painting pure duality..
..don’t hesitate: praise is beyond a ‘two’;
what now we praise, becomes our very self;
in praise, name radiates as kingdom, come;
and kingdom hallows all, as all its own;
so, glory in that sound of praise so fine;
for when you shine with praise – then all things shine.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Mad The Swine
Words and music by freddie mercury
Been here before a long time ago
But this time I wear no sandals
Ages past I gave all you people
Food and water
Three feet tall so very small Im no trouble
I bring thunder lightning sun and the rain
For all the people in the land
A message of love
I bring you from up above
All good children gather around
Come join your hands and sing along
They call me mad the swine
I guess Im mad the swine
Ive come to save you save you
Mad the swine
Mad the swine
So all you people gather around
Hold out your hands and praise the lord
I woke up on the water just as before
Ill help the meek and the mild and believers and the blind
And all the creatures great and small
Let me take you to the river without a ford
Oh and then one day you realise
Youre all the same weve been in life
All Ive come to say just like before
They call me mad the swine
Im mad the swine
Ive come to save you save you
Mad the swine
Mad the swine
So all you people gather around
Hold out your hands and praise the lord
Ooh
Oh now
So all you people gather around
Hold out your hands and praise the lord
Dont ever fail me
Mad the swine
Mad the swine
Ive come to save you save you
Oh now
Mad the swine
Mad the swine
So all you people gather around
Hold out your hands and praise the lord
Hands and praise the lord
Praise the lord
Ill get down on my knees and praise the lord
song performed by by Queen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Psalm 150
Praise God in his heavenly dwelling;
praise him in his mighty heaven!
Praise him for his mighty works;
praise his unequaled greatness!
Praise him with a blast of the trumpet;
praise him with the lyre and harp!
Praise him with the tambourine and dancing;
praise him with stringed instruments and flutes!
Praise him with a clash of cymbals;
praise him with loud clanging cymbals.
Let everything that lives sing praises to the Lord!
Praise the Lord!!
song performed by by P.O.D.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Praise God on High
Praise God on High
He sits there and knows why
The reason for each housefly
From fungi to the pie
Even those far and nearby
Praise God on High
The Owner of the Sky
The sweetness of July
The secrets of my Sigh
He knows them all
He sees my fall
With love install
I hear no yawl.
He is what nature's sprawl
The snowfall, the menthol, the cat call.
My faults he does not recall
Everything in Him is so beautiful.
Praise! Praise God on High
For He has the Perfect Eye.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sunlight on white paint. For the New Year.
The house across the way is newly painted white.
Right now, that’s all my being seems to need:
this winter morning, sharp, cold, bright and clear,
the morning sunlight pours across white paint;
contains a thousand messages, in me
interpreted.. or simply left to be..
this moment, that’s as much as being craves:
this morning’s glory; and I, born for praise..
even as I write, I watch the sun’s
white paint brush move across the house’s front
and tell the eye of reason that this world
is turning, basking, in this morning sun;
already sparkling on the Bondi waves
as if the world had just been washed anew;
cast early dawn’s pearl light on Taj Mahal
as if the sun itself could never tire of beauty;
Italian villa forecourts just hosed down,
the air all fresh to meet the warming day;
the gardens of Carmel, eight hours from now,
will paint their flowers fresh with mist and dew;
as every carefree holiday yourself
recall, as proof eternal of pure soul..
and here - the witness of my silent mind
needs nothing, need go nowhere else to find
its very self, this moment without taint:
immortal sunlight shining on white paint.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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