Angels We Have Heard on High

Angels we have heard on high,
Sweetly singing o'er the plains.
And the mountains in reply
Echoing their joyous strains:
"Gloria in excelsis Deo." *

Come to Bethlehem and see
Him whose birth the angels sing.
Come, adore on bended knee

Christ the Lord the Newborn King:
Gloria in excelsis Deo. *

---Anonymous French Carol

*Glory to God in the highest

Autumnal Sonnet

Now Autumn's fire burns slowly along the woods,
And day by day the dead leaves fall and melt,
And night by night the monitory blast*
Wails in the key-hold, telling how it pass'd
O'er empty fields, or upland solitudes,
Or grim wide wave; and now the power is felt
Of melancholy, tenderer in its moods
Than any joy indulgent summer dealt.

Dear friends, together in the glimmering eve,
Pensive and glad, with tones that recognize
The soft invisible dew in each one's eyes,
It may be, somewhat thus we shall have leave
To walk with memory,  --when distant lies
Poor Earth, where we were wont to live and grieve.
--William Allingham (1828-1889) 

* Blast of air that warns or admonishes; here, about death coming

 

The Autumn

Go, sit upon the lofty hill,
And turn your eyes around,
Where waving woods and waters wild
Do hymn an autumn sound.
The summer sun is faint on them --
The summer flowers depart --
Sit still -- as all transform'd to stone,
Except your musing heart.
 

How there you sat in summer-time,
May yet be in your mind;
And how you heard the green woods sing
Beneath the freshening wind. 

Though the same wind now blows around,
You would its blast recall;
For every breath that stirs the trees,
Doth cause a leaf to fall. 

Oh! like that wind, is all the mirth
That flesh and dust impart:
We cannot bear its visitings,
When change is on the heart.
Gay words and jests may make us smile,
When Sorrow is asleep;
But other things must make us smile,
When Sorrow bids us weep!

 

The dearest hands that clasp our hands, --
Their presence may be o'er;
The dearest voice that meets our ear,
That tone may come no more!
Youth fades; and then, the joys of youth,
Which once refresh'd our mind,
Shall come -- as, on those sighing woods,
The chilling autumn wind.  ---Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806-1861)

Share the Reign of God our Lord

Share the reign of God, our Lord,
Spoken, written, mighty Word:
Go ev'rywhere and people call
To His heav'nly banquet hall.

Tell how God the Father's will
Made the world, upholds it still,
How He gave His own dear Son:
Who over sin already won.

Tell of our Redeemer's grace,
Who, to save our human race
And to pay rebellion's price,
Gave Himself as sacrifice.


Tell of God the Spirit giv'n
Now to guide us on to heav'n,
Strong and holy, just and true,
Working both to will and do.
   
Enter, mighty Word, the field;
Rip'n the promise of its yield.
But the reapers are so few
For the work there is to do!

Lord of harvest, great and kind,

Rouse to action heart and mind;
Let the gath'ring nations all
See Your light and heed Your call.

Jonathan Friedrich Bahnmaier (1774-1841); composite translation

He hath abolished the old drouth

He hath abolished the old drou[g]ht,


And rivers run where all was dry**,
The field is sopp’d with merciful dew.
He hath put a new song in my mouth,
The words are old, the purport new*,
And taught my lips to quote this word

That I shall live, I shall not die,
But I shall when the shocks are stored
See the salvation of the Lord.
We meet together, you and I,    
Meet in one acre of one land,
And I will turn my looks to you,
And you shall meet me with reply,
We shall be sheaved with one band   

Van Gough

In harvest and in garnering,
When heavenly vales so thick shall stand
With corn*** that they shall laugh and sing.
---Gerard Manley Hopkins

* “the words are old, the purport new”  Psalm 118:17: “I shall not die, but live.” This is the “new song" Psalm 40:3. 

**Psalm, 65,  Running rivers and the fields sopping with water

***Biblical "corn" is actually "wheat"

A Thunder-Storm

[The summer monsoon season should soon be coming to the mountain West]

The wind begun to rock the grass
With threatening tunes and low, -
He flung a menace at the earth,
A menace at the sky.

The leaves unhooked themselves from trees
And started all abroad;
The dust did scoop itself like hands
And throw away the road. . .

The birds put up the bars to nests,
The cattle fled to barns;
There came one drop of giant rain,
And then, as if the Hands

That held the dams had parted hold,
The waters wrecked the sky,
But overlooked my father's house,
Just quartering a tree.

  ---Emily Dickinson

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