Songs For Lent

Inspired by the T.S. Elliot poem of the same name, this is The Hollow Men, written for trumpet and string orchestra by Vincent Persichetti.

The poem says, in part:

Those who have crossed
With direct eyes, to death’s other Kingdom
Remember us—if at all—not as lost
Violent souls, but only
As the hollow men
The stuffed men.

And, of course, it ends with that most famous of lines:

This is the way the world ends

this is the way the world ends

this is the way the world ends

not with a bang but a whimper.

Christmas Poetry

Today's poem is A Christmas Carmen, by John Greenleaf Whittier

Sound over all waters, reach out from all lands,
The chorus of voices, the clasping of hands;
Sing hymns that were sung by the stars of the morn,
Sing songs of the angels when Jesus was born!
               With glad jubilations
               Bring hope to the nations!
The dark night is ending and dawn has begun:
Rise, hope of the ages, arise like the sun,
     All speech flow to music, all hearts beat as one!


Sing the bridal of nations! with chorals of love
Sing out the war-vulture and sing in the dove,
Till the hearts of the peoples keep time in accord,
And the voice of the world is the voice of the Lord!
               Clasp hands of the nations
               In strong gratulations:
The dark night is ending and dawn has begun;
Rise, hope of the ages, arise like the sun,
     All speech flow to music, all hearts beat as one!


Blow, bugles of battle, the marches of peace;
East, west, north, and south let the long quarrel cease:
Sing the song of great joy that the angels began,
Sing of glory to God and of good-will to man!
               Hark! joining in chorus
               The heavens bend o'er us!
The dark night is ending and dawn has begun;
Rise, hope of the ages, arise like the sun,
     All speech flow to music, all hearts beat as one!

Rainy Tuesday Poem

From John Greenleaf Whittier's "Last Walks in Autumn"

  Then let the icy north-wind blow 
    The trumpets of the coming storm,

  To arrowy sleet and blinding snow 
    Yon slanting lines of rain transform.

  Young hearts shall hail the drifted cold 
  As gayly as I did of old;

And I, who watch them through the frosty pane,

Unenvious, live in them my boyhood o’er again.

  And I will trust that He who heeds 
    The life that hides in mead and wold,

  Who hangs yon alder’s crimson beads, 
    And stains these mosses green and gold,

  Will still, as He hath done, incline 
  His gracious care to me and mine;

Grant what we ask aright, from wrong debar,

And, as the earth grows dark, make brighter every star!

  I have not seen, I may not see, 
    My hopes for man take form in act,

  But God will give the victory 
    in due time; in that faith I act.

  And he who sees the future sure, 
  the baffling present may endure,

And bless, meanwhile, the unseen Hand that leads
The heart's desires beyond the halting step of deeds.

Short Poem for Earth Day

(I know I said I wouldn't be blogging much this week. . .that's why I'm simply quoting other people)

Wendell Berry, from The Sabbath Poems, 1982, VII

The clearing rests in song and shade.
It is a creature made
By old light held in soil and leaf,
By human joy and grief,
By human work,
Fidelity of sight and stroke,
By rain, by water on
The parent stone.

We join our work to Heaven's gift,
Our hope to what is left,
That field and woods at last agree
In an economy
Of widest worth.
High Heaven's Kingdom come to earth.
Imagine Paradise.
O dust, arise!

So much to catch up on - a responsive reading

In the end, the conference was powerful. I'm still digesting. I want to make some comments on it.

But I have to write a sermon.

I need to mention some of the speakers we heard over the week, and the wonderful conversation Karina and I had with one of them, when both our planes were delayed at the airport in Austin.

But I have to write a sermon.

I was going to mention our experiences on Southwest Airlines - with the medical emergency on the way down and the engine problems on the way back.

But I have to write a sermon.

I should mention something about our time with Dave, a friend from way, way back in my first ministry days.

But I have to write a sermon.

I'd love to share some more general impressions about Austin, Texas.

But I have to write a sermon.

I've been wanting to do a movie review on a little film we watched last week - Rocket Science - and how it reflects our current ethos as a culture

But I have to write a sermon.

So, instead, let me share a poem I wrote on the flight down instead.

And maybe I'll just keep this list and work on it all next week.

Seattle to Austin

Three times up, three times down
like children playing leapfrog
we seem unable to maintain
our grip on flight
one moment dancing the vast
western sky inexorably
returning to earth-planted feet
we leap, we soar, buckle
and feel the rush of liftoff
pushing into your bones
we plummet and plod the
crowded taxiway, growing in
awareness of sore butts and
cramped knees

Is how I talk to you, God
friend, companion on this journey
never quite sustaining rapture
growing ever weary of the ground
discontent to remain
unable to fly