You Have Searched Me

(Psalm 139:1-10; 14. An original translation.)

Yahweh, You searched me;
Thus You know me.
My sitting down and my rising up You know.
My disposition You discern from a distance.
My path and lying down you sort out,
And my entire way You make useful.
A word is not yet formed on my tongue,
And, yet You, O Yahweh, already know it.
Behind me and in front of me You close me in,
And upon me have You placed the palm of Your Hand.
Too wonderful for me is this Knowledge!
She is high: I cannot reach her!
Where could I go from Your Spirit?
And where might I flee from Your Face?
Were I to ascend to the skies,
You would be there.
And were I to make my bed in the depths of the earth,
Indeed, You would be there.
Were I to rise on the wings of the dawn
And were I to dwell at the edge of the sea,
Even there your Hand would hold and guide me,
And your strength would sustain me. . .
I praise You,
For I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
Your works are wonderful,
How rightly I realize this!

Nothing Gold Can Stay

Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower; 
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf,
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day
Nothing gold can stay.
--Robert Frost, 1923 (1924 Pulitzer Prize for Poetry winner)

Ferreting out exactly what Robert Frost's religious beliefs were are difficult. Things are compounded by the losses in his life. However, as this poem alludes to the Garden of Eden, the first creation by God, and how it was sunk by the first sin (Genesis 3), it is being incorporated on this Christian site.
Although this poem seems bleak, it does speak of cycles of life that will continue to come about in this imperfect world: there will be new flowers or leaves on the tree next year; there will be a dawn tomorrow; people will die but leave their descendants after them.

In May

The time that hints the coming leaf, 
 When buds are dropping chaff and scale,  
And, wafted from the greening vale,
Are pungent odors, keen as grief.

Now shad-bush wears a robe of white,  
And orchards hint a leafy screen; 
 While willows drop their veils of green
Above the limpid waters bright.

New songsters come with every morn, 
 And whippoorwill is overdue, 
 While spice bush gold is coined anew
Before her tardy leaves are born.

The cowslip now with radiant face  
Makes mimic sunshine in the shade, 
 Anemone is not afraid,
Although she trembles in her place.

Now adder's-tongue new gilds the mould*,
The ferns unroll their woolly coils,  
And honey-bee begins her toils
Where maple trees their fringe unfold.

The goldfinch dons his summer coat,  
The wild bee drones her mellow bass, 
 And butterflies of hardy race
In genial sunshine bask and float.

The Artist now is sketching in 
 The outlines of his broad design  
So soon to deepen line on line,
Till June and summer days begin.

Now Shadow soon will pitch her tent
Beneath the trees in grove and field,
And all the wounds of life be healed,
By orchard bloom and lilac scent.

--John Burroughs, 1837-1921

*"Mold" in British English.  Flowers are now adorning the ground, where before moldy leaf remnants lay

The Bone that Has No Marrow

            [originally untitled]

Posting this for Lent, though it does not have specifically Lenten language.  Lent, besides reflecting on our personal sinfulness, is often a time of renewal, of seeking a new path. This poem hints at the need to do that, lest we flounder with no good purpose.      

                        #127

The Bone that has no Marrow,
What Ultimate for that?
It is not fit for Table
For Beggar or for Cat.

A Bone has obligations —
A Being has the same —
A Marrowless Assembly
Is culpabler than shame.*

But how shall finished Creatures
A function fresh obtain?
Old Nicodemus’ Phantom
Confronting us again**!

--Emily Dickinson, 1830s.  Part One:  Life

                                        
*A bone without marrow leaves nothing for a creature to eat.  A bone without marrow cannot fulfill its obligations of holding up the body.  A person who similarly can't hold up their obligations is shameful.

**The poet asks how creatures (people) without this structure can remake themselves. She revisits John chapter 3 where Jesus tells Nicodemus that a person must be "reborn" of the Spirit to enter the Kingdom of God.  Nicodemus is puzzled.  Jesus says the Holy Spirit has to do the transforming. Sometimes John chapter 3 is read during Lent.

Flowers in February

The annual return of the snapdragons and African daisies. 

 

More Sledding... More on Seasons

December 2019 just south of Pine, AZ  (north of Payson)

Yes, Arizona!!!

 

After the flood, God told Noah:

"Through all the days of the earth,
Seedtime and Harvest,
Cold and Heat,
Summer and Winter.
Day and Night
Will not take rest 
[cease, pause, have a 'Sabbath'.] "
  
  ---Genesis 8:22; original translation

This is but one of our seasons as we move through time.

Past Sledding Post 

I Will Praise the Lord at All Times

Winter has a joy for me,
While the Saviour's charms I read,
Lowly, meek, from blemish free,
In the snowdrop's pensive head.

Spring returns, and brings along
Life-invigorating suns:
Hark! the turtle's plaintive song 
Seems to speak His dying groans!

Summer has a thousand charms,
All expressive of His worth;
'Tis His sun that lights and warms,
His the air that cools the earth.

What! has autumn left to say
Nothing of a Saviour's grace?
Yes, the beams of milder day
Tell me of his smiling face.

Light appears with early dawn,
While the sun makes haste to rise;
See His bleeding beauties drawn
On the blushes of the skies.

Evening with a silent pace,
Slowly moving in the west,
Shews an emblem of His grace,
Points to an eternal rest. 

--William Cowper, ~1772; Olney, England