The Navy Hymn

(for American Independence Day, July 4th)

Eternal Father, Strong to save,
Whose arm hath bound the restless wave,
Who bid'st the mighty Ocean deep
Its own appointed limits keep*;
O hear us when we cry to thee,
for those in peril on the sea.

O Christ! Whose voice the waters heard
And hushed their raging at Thy word,
Who walked'st on the foaming deep,
and calm amidst its rage didst sleep**;
Oh hear us when we cry to Thee
For those in peril on the sea!

Most Holy spirit! Who didst brood
Upon the chaos dark and rude,
And bid its angry tumult cease,
And give, for wild confusion, peace;
Oh, hear us when we cry to Thee
For those in peril on the sea!

O Trinity of love and power!
Our brethren shield in danger's hour;
From rock and tempest, fire and foe,
Protect them wheresoe'er they go;
Thus evermore shall rise to Thee,
Glad hymns of praise from land and sea.
---adapted from Rev. William Whiting, 1861

*From the Book of Job; Yahweh reminds Job that He set the limits of the ocean at the beginning of time.
**Jesus walked upon the water and calmed the stormy waters of the Sea of Galilee in the gospels. During one of these episodes, He slept on deck while the storm raged until His panicked disciples woke Him up.
***Genesis 1: The Holy Spirit brooded on the formlessness, the waters, before creation began

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.

Rest

O Earth, lie heavily upon her eyes; 

Seal her sweet eyes weary of watching, Earth; 

Lie close around her; leave no room for mirth 

With its harsh laughter, nor for sound of sighs. 

She hath no questions, she hath no replies, 

Hushed in and curtained with a blessed dearth 

Of all that irked her from the hour of birth; 

With stillness that is almost Paradise. 

Darkness more clear than noon-day holdeth her, 

Silence more musical than any song; 

Even her very heart has ceased to stir: 

Until the morning of Eternity 

Her rest shall not begin nor end, but be; 

And when she wakes she will not think it long. 

--Christina Rossetti From Goblin Market and Other Poems (1862)

Easter Song

I Got me flowers to straw Thy way,
I got me boughs off many a tree;
But Thou wast up by break of day,
And brought’st Thy sweets along with Thee.

The sunne arising in the East,
Though he give light, and th’ East perfume,
If they should offer to contest
With Thy arising, they presume.

Can there be any day but this,
Though many sunnes to shine endeavour?
We count three hundred, but we misse:
There is but one, and that one ever.
---by George Herbert (Welsh; 1593-1633)

This is a section of a longer poem:

Easter [from "The Temple"]

A Better Resurrection

[an excerpt; for the end of Lent & Easter] 

I have no wit, no words, no tears; 

My heart within me like a stone 

Is numb'd too much for hopes or fears; 

Look right, look left, I dwell alone; 

I lift mine eyes, but dimm'd with grief 

No everlasting hills I see; 

My life is in the falling leaf: 

O Jesus, quicken me. 

My life is like a faded leaf, 

My harvest dwindled to a husk: 

Truly my life is void and brief 

And tedious in the barren dusk; 

My life is like a frozen thing, 

No bud nor greenness can I see: 

Yet rise it shall--the sap of Spring; 

O Jesus, rise in me. ---Christina Rossetti

"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. 

The Quality of Mercy

The quality of mercy is not strained.
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath. It is twice blest:
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes.
Tis mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes
The throned monarch better than his crown.
His scepter shows the force of temporal power,
The attribute to awe and majesty,
Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings.
But mercy is above this sceptered sway;
It is enthroned in the hearts of kings;
It is an attribute of God himself;
And earthly power doth then show like God's
When mercy seasons justice.
---William Shakespeare; 1600
(Portia’s speech in Act IV, Scene 1 of The Merchant of Venice)