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)

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)

Epiphany

'Lord Babe, if Thou art He We sought for patiently, 

Where is Thy court? 

Hither may prophecy and star resort; 

Men heed not their report.' – 

'Bow down and worship, righteous man: 

This Infant of a span 

Is He man sought for since the world began!' – 

'Then, Lord, accept my gold, too base a thing 

For Thee, of all kings King.' – 

'Lord Babe, despite Thy youth 

I hold Thee of a truth 

Both Good and Great: 

But wherefore dost Thou keep so mean a state, 

Low-lying desolate?' – 

'Bow down and worship, righteous seer: 

The Lord our God is here 

Approachable, Who bids us all draw near.' – 

'Wherefore to Thee I offer frankincense, 

Thou Sole Omnipotence.' – 

'But I have only brought Myrrh; no wise afterthought Instructed me 

To gather pearls or gems, or choice to see 

Coral or ivory.' – 

'Not least thine offering proves thee wise: 

For myrrh means sacrifice, 

And He that lives, this Same is He that dies.' – 

'Then here is myrrh: alas, yea woe is me 

That myrrh befitteth Thee.' – 

Myrrh, frankincense, and gold: 

And lo from wintry fold 

Good-will doth bring A Lamb, the innocent likeness of this King Whom stars and seraphs sing: 

And lo the bird of love, a Dove, 

Flutters and coos above: 

And Dove and Lamb and Babe agree in love: – 

Come all mankind, come all creation hither,

Come, worship Christ together. --Christina Rosetti; Before 1886