'Heaven and Hell' by Francis Thompson 'Tis said there were no thought of hell, Save hell were taught; that there should be A Heaven for all's self-credible. Not so the thing appears to me. 'Tis Heaven that lies beyond our sights, And hell too possible that proves; For all can feel the God that smites, But ah, how few the God that loves! Rembrandt Harmenszoon van Rijn (1606–1669) was a Dutch painter, printmaker and draughtsman.
Francis Thompson (1859–1907) was an English and Catholic poet.
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'The Song Tree' by Alfred Noyes Grow, my song, like a tree, As thou hast ever grown, Since first, a wondering child, Long since, I cherished thee. It was at break of day, Well I remember it,-- The first note that I heard, A magical undertone, Sweeter than any bird --Or so it seemed to me; And my tears ran wild. This tale, this tale is true. The light was growing gray; And the rhymes ran so sweet (For I was only a child) That I knelt down to pray. Grow, my song, like a tree. Since then I have forgot A thousand dreams, but not The song that set me free, So that to thee I gave My hopes and my despairs, My boyhood's ecstasy, My manhood's prayers. In dreams I have watched thee grow, A ladder of sweet boughs, Where angels come and go, And birds keep house. In dreams, I have seen thee wave Over a distant land, And watched thy roots expand, And given my life to thee, As I would give my grave. Grow, my song, like a tree, And when I am grown old, Let me die under thee, Die to enrich thy mould; Die at thy roots, and so Help thee to grow. Make of this body and blood Thy sempiternal food. Then let some little child, Some friend I shall not see, When the great dawn is gray, Some lover I have not known, In summers far away, Sit listening under thee, And in thy rustling hear That mystical undertone, Which made my tears run wild, And made thee, oh, how dear. In the great years to be? I am proud then? Ah, not so. I have lived and died for thee. Be patient. Grow. Grow, my song, like a tree. Wassily Kandinsky (1866–1944) was a Russian painter and art theorist.
Alfred Noyes (1880–1958) was an English poet. 'Envoy' by Francis Thompson Go, songs, for ended is our brief, sweet play; Go, children of the swift joy and tardy sorrow: And some are sung, and that was yesterday, And some unsung, and that may be to-morrow. Go forth; and if it be o'er stony way, Old joy can lend what newer grief must borrow: And it was sweet, and that was yesterday, And sweet is sweet, though purchasèd with sorrow. Go, songs, and come not back from your far way: And if men ask you why ye smile and sorrow, Tell them ye grieve, for your hearts know To-day, Tell them ye smile, for your eyes know To-morrow. Christian Rohlfs (1849–1938) was a German painter.
Francis Thompson (1859–1907) was an English and Catholic poet. By Urzula Glienecke The God we know through Jesus is a God of new beginnings. God lifts up the suffering and the outcast. The broken find new hope and new life – even a tree that has fallen can begin new growth – even if the shape and the direction are different. One of the greatest promises is the coming of God’s kingdom – we are part of that promise. Protecting and lifting up the lowly, the suffering, the poor, the oppressed. What can we do to pass the grace we have received on to others who need it now? Ever unfolding promises of God can be found – in the Bible stories, narratives in the prophetic word, in coming of Jesus, in God’s Kingdom and God’s future. Jurgen Moltmann expresses theological hope as 'expectation of a good future which rests on God’s promise'. We are God’s feet, hands, eyes in this world. We are part of that promise – of the foretaste of the Kingdom which is already here and now, but at the same time not yet. If we open our hearts and homes to people who need it, when we work to end poverty, when we accept and welcome those who are different from us, think differently, believe differently, live differently – we are part of God’s promise. - UG Urzula Glienecke, PhD, is a Latvian theologian, artist and activist living in Scotland. Urzula is a Member of the Iona Community. She is passionate about social justice, the environment and empowering people at the grassroots level.
Urzula's other work on Foreshadow: A Foretaste of the Kingdom (Non-fiction, April 2021) Lifelines, (Art, May 2021) 'The Road through Chaos' by Alfred Noyes I. There is one road, one only, to the Light; A narrow way, but Freedom walks therein; A strait firm road through Chaos and old Night, And all these wandering Jack-o'-Lents of Sin. It is the road of Law, where Pilate stays To hear, at last, the answer to his cry; And mighty sages, groping through their maze Of eager questions, hear a child reply. "Truth? What is Truth? Come, look upon my tables. Begin at your beginnings once again. Twice one is two!" If all the rest be fables, There's one poor glimpse of Truth to keep you sane. For truth, at first, is clean accord with fact, Whether in line or thought, or word, or act. II. Then, by those first, those clean, precise, accords, Build to the Lord your temples and your song; The curves of beauty, music's wedded chords Resolving into heaven all hate and wrong. Let harmonies of colour marry and follow, And breaking waves in a rhythmic dance ensue; And all your thought fly free as the wings of the swallow, Whose arrowy curves obey their measure, too. Then shall the marching stars and tides befriend you, And your own heart, and the world's heart, pulse in rhyme; Then shall the mob of the passions that would rend you Crown you their Captain and march on in time. So shall you repossess your struggling soul, Conquer your world, and find the eternal goal. Eiler Rasmussen Eilersen (1827–1912) was a Danish landscape painter.
Alfred Noyes (1880–1958) was an English poet. 'Uphill' by Christina Rosetti Does the road wind up-hill all the way? Yes, to the very end. Will the day’s journey take the whole long day? From morn to night, my friend. But is there for the night a resting-place? A roof for when the slow dark hours begin. May not the darkness hide it from my face? You cannot miss that inn. Shall I meet other wayfarers at night? Those who have gone before. Then must I knock, or call when just in sight? They will not keep you standing at that door. Shall I find comfort, travel-sore and weak? Of labour you shall find the sum. Will there be beds for me and all who seek? Yea, beds for all who come. Christina Rosetti (1830–1894) was an English poet.
'The Bee in Church' by Alfred Noyes The nestling church at Ovingdean Was fragrant as a hive in May; And there was nobody within To preach, or praise, or pray. The sunlight slanted through the door, And through the panes of painted glass, When I stole in, alone, once more To feel the ages pass. Then, through the dim grey hush there droned An echoing plain-song on the air, As if some ghostly priest intoned An old Gregorian there. Saint Chrysostom could never lend More honey to the heavenly Spring Than seemed to murmur and ascend On that invisible wing. So small he was, I scarce could see My girdled brown hierophant; But only a Franciscan bee In such a bass could chant. His golden Latin rolled and boomed. It swayed the altar flowers anew, Till all that hive of worship bloomed With dreams of sun and dew. Ah, sweet Franciscan of the May, Dear chaplain of the fairy queen, You sent a singing heart away That day, from Ovingdean. Arthur Gilbert (1819–1895) was an English landscape painter.
Alfred Noyes (1880–1958) was an English poet. 'Be Thou My Vision' by Saint Dallán (translated by Eleanor Hull) Be thou my vision O Lord of my heart None other is aught but the King of the seven heavens. Be thou my meditation by day and night. May it be thou that I behold ever in my sleep. Be thou my speech, be thou my understanding. Be thou with me, be I with thee Be thou my father, be I thy son. Mayst thou be mine, may I be thine. Be thou my battle-shield, be thou my sword. Be thou my dignity, be thou my delight. Be thou my shelter, be thou my stronghold. Mayst thou raise me up to the company of the angels. Be thou every good to my body and soul. Be thou my kingdom in heaven and on earth. Be thou solely chief love of my heart. Let there be none other, O high King of Heaven. Till I am able to pass into thy hands, My treasure, my beloved through the greatness of thy love Be thou alone my noble and wondrous estate. I seek not men nor lifeless wealth. Be thou the constant guardian of every possession and every life. For our corrupt desires are dead at the mere sight of thee. Thy love in my soul and in my heart -- Grant this to me, O King of the seven heavens. O King of the seven heavens grant me this -- Thy love to be in my heart and in my soul. With the King of all, with him after victory won by piety, May I be in the kingdom of heaven, O brightness of the sun. Beloved Father, hear, hear my lamentations. Timely is the cry of woe of this miserable wretch. O heart of my heart, whatever befall me, O ruler of all, be thou my vision. Matthaeus (Matthäus) Merian (1593–1650) was a Swiss engraver.
Dallán Forgaill (c. 560–640) was an Irish poet and saint. 'Journey's End' by Alfred Noyes Know'st thou where that kingdom lies? Take no lanthorn in thy hand. Search not the unfathomed skies. Journey not o'er sea and land. Grope no more to east or west. Heaven is locked within thy breast. Splendours of the sun grow dim, Stars are darkened by that light. Thoughts that burn like seraphim Throng thine inner world to-night. Set thy heel on Death and find Love, new-born, within thy mind. In that kingdom folded lie All that eyes believe they see; All the hues of earth and sky, Time, space, and eternity. Seek no more in realms apart. Heaven is folded in thy heart. Firmin Baes (1874–1943) was a Belgian artist.
Alfred Noyes (1880–1958) was an English poet. 'The Elixir' by George Herbert Teach me, my God and King, In all things thee to see, And what I do in any thing, To do it as for thee: Not rudely, as a beast, To runne into an action; But still to make thee prepossest, And give it his perfection. A man that looks on glasse, On it may stay his eye; Or if he pleaseth, through it passe, And then the heav’n espie. All may of thee partake: Nothing can be so mean, Which with his tincture (for thy sake) Will not grow bright and clean. A servant with this clause Makes drudgerie divine: Who sweeps a room, as for thy laws, Makes that and th’ action fine. This is the famous stone That turneth all to gold: For that which God doth touch and own Cannot for lesse be told. Johannes Vermeer (1632–1675) was a Dutch painter.
George Herbert (1593–1633) was a Welsh poet and an Anglican priest. |
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