When I Consider How My Light is Spent*

(Sonnet XIX)
When I consider how my light is spent,
Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,
And that one talent which is death to hide**
Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest He returning chide,
"Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?"
I fondly ask; But patience, to prevent
That murmur, soon replies "God doth not need
Either man's work or his own gifts. Who best
Bear His mild yoke, they serve Him best. His state
Is kingly: thousands at His bidding speed
And post o'er land and ocean without rest;
They also serve who only stand and wait."

---John Milton

*A poem on his imprending blindness

**It would be a "mini-death" to have to give up writing poetry.

"The Love of Christ Which Passeth Knowledge"

[A useful reflection for Lent] 

I bore with thee long weary days and nights, 

Through many pangs of heart, through many tears; 

I bore with thee, thy hardness, coldness, slights, 

For three and thirty years*. 

Who else had dared for thee what I have dared? 

I plunged the depth most deep from bliss above; 

I not My flesh, I not My spirit spared: 

Give thou Me love for love. 

For thee I thirsted in the daily drouth, 

For thee I trembled in the nightly frost: 

Much sweeter thou than honey to My mouth: 

Why wilt thou still be lost? 

I bore thee on My shoulders and rejoiced: 

Men only marked upon My shoulders borne 

The branding cross; and shouted hungry-voiced, 

Or wagged their heads in scorn. ---Christina Rossetti

*It's not clear that Jesus lived exactly 33 years on this earth. His public ministry began when he was "about" 30 years old and lasted three years. 

My Own Heart Let Me Have More Pity On

[originally untitled]
(Forgiveness in Christ brings joy; but sometimes a tender conscience is hard on a person for a period of time. Hopkins experienced a period of what appears to be depression in connection with this.)

My own heart let me have more pity on; let
Me live to see my sad self hereafter kind,
Charitable; not live this tormented mind
With this tormented mind tormenting yet.
I cast for comfort I can no more get
By going round my comfortless, than blind
Eyes in their dark can day or thirst can find*
Thirst's all-in-all in all a world of wet.

Would, self; come, poor Jackself*, I do advise
You, jaded, let be;*** call off thoughts awhile
Elsewhere; leave comfort root-room; let joy size
At God knows when to God knows what; whose smile****
's bit wrung, see you; unforeseen times rather---as skies
Betweenpie mountains---lights a lovely mile.
---Gerard Manley Hopkins, 1885


*The poet is "groping around" in the manner of a blind man, searching for comfort that eludes him
**Hopkins often used "Jack" as a stand in for "anyone", the "man on the street", himself
***"Let it go", in modern language; he's telling his soul this hanging on to jadedness & sad thougts needs to go
****No, the poet doesn't really believe that God (the Father) has a physical smile; it's figurative, and he's comparing it to the "dappled" bright "U" of sky in the saddle between two dark mountains

Be Still, My Soul

[These are tough economic times for people. And, yet, the timeless wisdom and loving care of God never change.]

Be still, my soul*: the Lord is on your side.
Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain.
Leave to your God to order and provide:
In every change, He faithful will remain.
Be still, my soul: your best, your heavenly Friend
Through thorny ways leads to a joyful end.

Be still, my soul: your God will undertake
To guide the future, as He has the past.
Your hope, your confidence let nothing shake:
All now mysterious shall be bright at last.
Be still, my soul: the waves and winds still know
Christ's voice, which ruled them while He dwelt below.

Be still, my soul: when dearest friends depart,
And all is darkened in the vale of tears.
Then you shall better know His love, His heart,
Who comes to soothe your sorrow and your fears.
Be still, my soul: your Jesus can repay
From His own fullness all He takes away.

Be still, my soul: begin the song of praise;
While still on earth, sing to your Lord on high.
Acknowledge Him in all your words and ways**,
So shall He view you with a well-pleased eye.
Be still, my soul: the Sun of Life*** divine
Through passing clouds shall but more brightly shine.

Be still, my soul: the hour is hastening on
When we shall be forever with the Lord,
When disappointment, grief and fear are gone,
Sorrow forgot, love’s purest joys restored.
Be still, my soul: when change and tears are past
All safe and blessèd we will meet at last.
---Katharina A. von Schlagel, 1752 (German); translated 1855 Jane L. Borthwick; adapted c.m.b., 2009
*Psalms 46: 10 & 42: 4-11
**Proverbs 3: 5-6
***Malachi 4:2; Jesus as the "Sun of Righteousness"

Praise to God, Immortal Praise

Praise to God, immortal praise,
For the love that crowns our days;
Bounteous Source of every joy,
Let Thy praise our tongues employ.

Flocks that whiten all the plain;
Yellow sheaves of ripened grain;
Clouds that drop their fattening dews,
Sun that temperate warmth diffuses.
All that Spring with bounteous hand
Scatters o’er the smiling land;
All that liberal Autumn pours
From her rich o’erflowing stores.
These to Thee, my God, we owe,
Source whence all our blessings flow;
And for these my soul shall raise
Grateful vows and solemn praise.

Yet, should rising whirlwinds tear
From its stem the ripening ear;
Should the fig tree’s blasted shoot*
Drop her green untimely fruit,
Should the vine put forth no more,
Nor the olive yield her store;
Though the sickening flocks should fall,
And the herds desert the stall,
Yet to Thee my soul shall raise
Grateful vows and solemn praise;
And, when every blessing’s flown
Love Thee for Thyself alone.**
---An­na L. Bar­bauld, 1772 (adapted c.m.b. 2008)

*Habakkuk 3:17-19 (a near paraphrase). After chapters of asking "How, God?" and "Why, God?"---and getting answers from God!!---Habakkuk makes this statement of faith. [Habakkuk ties another as my favorite book of the Bible]
**Christian thinkers, C.S. Lewis included, have said that as we mature in our faith, we love God for who He is and not just for the great benefits of heaven which we get from Him

America the Beautiful

(These sentiments are more noble---and certainly more Christian*---than modern America deserves. And, yet, pockets of America still live this out beautifully.)


O beautiful, for spacious skies,
For amber waves of grain,
For purple mountain majesties
Above the fruited plain!
America! America!
God shed His grace* on thee,
And crown thy good with brotherhood**,
from sea to shining sea.

O beautiful, for pilgrim feet
Whose stern, impassioned stress
A thoroughfare for freedom beat
Across the wilderness!
America! America!
God mend thine ev'ry flaw*;
Confirm thy soul in self control**,
 thy liberty in law!

O beautiful, for heroes proved
In liberating strife,
Who more than self their country loved
And mercy* more than life!
America! America!
May God thy gold refine**,
'Til all success be nobleness,
and ev'ry gain divine**!

O beautiful, for patriot dream
That sees beyond the years,
Thine alabaster cities gleam
Undimmed by human tears!
America! America!
 God shed His grace on thee,
And crown thy good with brotherhood**,
from sea to shining sea! --- Katharine Lee Bates, English professor at Wellesley College around 4 July, 1893
(on a trip from the east coast to Colorado Springs)

*While "Jesus" & being "saved from sin" are not clearly spelled out in this poem/song, they underlie these thoughts quire clearly
**The work of the Holy Spirit, who works in Christians to do better things and creates a true brotherhood

[Patience]

Patience, hard thing! the hard thing but to pray,
But bid for, Patience is! Patience who asks
Wants war, wants wounds; weary his time, his tasks;
To do without, take tosses, and obey.*

Rare patience roots in these, and, these away,
Nowhere. Natural heart's ivy, Patience masks**
Our ruins of wrecked purpose. There she basks
Purple eyes*** and seas of liquid leaves all day.

We hear our hearts grate on themselves: it kills
To bruise them dearer. Yet the rebellious wills
Of us we do bid God bend to him even so.
And where is He who more and more distills
Delicious kindness?-- He is patient. Patience fills
His crisp combs****, and that comes those ways we know.
---Gerard Manley Hopkins, 1885

*we don't like to be 'patient' waiting for 'patience'; we strive & try to make it happen
**ivy covers over ruined homes & covers the cracks beneath
***berries
****God's sweet patience, like honeycombs

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