Christian Nature Poetry

Thursday, December 3, 2015

Joy to the World

(A paraphrase of Psalm 98, with images from the Sierra Nevada Mountains)
Joy to the world, the Lord is come!
Let earth receive her King;
Let every heart prepare Him room,
And Heaven and nature sing.

Yosemite Falls, Yosemite National Park

Joy to the earth, the Savior reigns!
Let men their songs employ;
While fields and floods, rocks, hills and plains
Repeat the sounding joy.

Yosemite National Park

No more let sins and sorrows grow,
Nor thorns infest the ground;
He comes to make His blessings flow
Far as the curse is found.

He rules the world with truth and grace,
And makes the nations prove
The glories of His righteousness,
And wonders of His love.

Bridal Veil Falls, Yosemite

---Isaac Watts, 1719

Saturday, November 7, 2015

For All the Saints

[a little late for All Saints Day on November 1st,
but the thoughts go on]

For all the saints who from their labors rest,
Who Thee by faith before the world confess,
Thy name, O Jesus, be forever blest,
Alleluia! Alleluia!

O blest communion, fellowship divine,
We feebly struggle, they in glory shine;
Yet all are one in Thee, for all are Thine.
Alleluia! Alleluia!

My grandma, in her glory since 1996

But, lo, there breaks a yet more glorious day;
The saints triumphant rise in bright array;
The King of Glory passes on His way.
Alleluia! Alleluia!

From earth's wide bounds, from ocean's farthest coast,
Through gates of pearl streams in the countless host,
Singing to Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,
Alleluia! Alleluia!

The golden evening brightens in the west;
Soon, soon, to faithful warriors cometh rest.
Sweet is the calm of Paradise the blest.
Alleluia! Alleluia!

---William W. How, 1864

Thursday, October 1, 2015

October in Phoenix

October in Phoenix:
No scarlet leaves in sight;
October in Phoenix,
Still sweltering at night.

October in Phoenix--
First day breaks a hundred--
We all see, crestfallen,
The records we dreaded.

I dream of northern mountains,
Flagstaff maples and aspens;
But I'm down here working,
No matter what happens.

If I were a Catholic
I'd call it "Purgatory";
Ah, since I'm a Lutheran
I lack that category.

Beyond urban confines
The desert grows scenic;
But it's a big city--
October in Phoenix.

Ocotillo

---C. Marie Byars, (c) 2015

Dreams:

Aspens in Flagstaff, AZ

Saturday, September 5, 2015

Lord of All Hopefulness

[Happy Labor Day!]

Lord of all hopefulness, Lord of all joy,
Whose trust, ever child-like, no cares can destroy,
Be there at our waking, and give us, we pray,
Your bliss in our hearts, Lord, at the break of the day.

Lord of all eagerness, Lord of all faith,
Whose strong hands were skilled at the plane and the lathe,
Be there at our labors, and give us, we pray,
Your strength in our hearts, Lord, at the noon of the day.

Lord of all kindliness, Lord of all grace,
Your hands swift to welcome, your arms to embrace,
Be there at our homing, and give us, we pray,
Your love in our hearts, Lord, at the eve of the day.

Lord of all gentleness, Lord of all calm,
Whose voice is contentment, whose presence is balm,
Be there at our sleeping, and give us, we pray,
Your peace in our hearts, Lord, at the end of the day.

---"Jan Struther" (Joyce Maxtone Graham)* , 1931

*This authoress of many Anglican hymns was, actually, agnostic, although she regularly attended church. We shall take her work in the fullest Christian sense.

Saturday, August 8, 2015

O, Mother Dear, Jerusalem

(A hymn/poem about heaven. Singable to "America the Beautiful")

O mother dear, Jerusalem*,
When shall I come to thee?
When shall my sorrows have an end,
Thy joys when shall I see?
O happy harbor of God's saints!
O sweet and pleasant soil!
In thee no sorrow may be found,
No grief, no care, no toil.

Thy gardens and thy gallant walks
Continually are green;
There grow such sweet and pleasant flow’rs,
As nowhere else are seen.
There trees forever more bear fruit,
And evermore do spring,
There evermore the angels sit,
And evermore do sing.

Jerusalem, my happy home,
Would God I were in thee!
Would God my woes were at an end,
Thy joys that I might see!

No murky cloud o'ershadows thee,
Nor gloom, nor darksome night;
But every soul shines as the sun,
For God Himself gives light.

by F.B.P.; medieval