A Treasure To Be Shared

Good Friday by John Keble from THE CHRISTIAN YEAR BY THE REV. JOHN KEBLE Transcribed from the 1887 Cassell & Company edition by David Price He is despised and rejected of men. Isaiah liii. 3. Is it not strange, the darkest hour That ever dawned on sinful earth Should touch the heart with softer power For comfort than an angel’s mirth? That to the Cross the mourner’s eye should turn Sooner than where the stars of Christmas burn? Sooner than where the Easter sun Shines glorious on yon open grave, And to and fro the tidings run, “Who died to heal, is risen to save?” Sooner than where upon the Saviour’s friends The very Comforter in light and love descends? Yet so it is: for duly there The bitter herbs of earth are set, Till tempered by the Saviour’s prayer, And with the Saviour’s life-blood wet, They turn to sweetness, and drop holy balm, Soft as imprisoned martyr’s deathbed calm. All turn to sweet—but most of all That bi...

THE CHRISTIAN YEAR BY THE REV. JOHN KEBLE Thursday before Easter Transcribed from the 1887 Cassell & Company edition by David Price As the beginning of thy supplications the commandment came forth, and I am come to shew thee; for thou art greatly beloved: therefore understand the matter, and consider the vision. Daniel ix. 23. “O Holy mountain of my God, How do thy towers in ruin lie, How art thou riven and strewn abroad, Under the rude and wasteful sky!” ’Twas thus upon his fasting-day The “Man of Loves” was fain to pray, His lattice open toward his darling west, Mourning the ruined home he still must love the best. Oh! for a love like Daniel’s now, To wing to Heaven but one strong prayer For God’s new Israel, sunk as low, Yet flourishing to sight as fair, As Sion in her height of pride, With queens for handmaids at her side, With kings her nursing-fathers, thronèd high, And compassed with the world’s too tempting blazonry. ...

THE CHRISTIAN YEAR BY THE REV. JOHN KEBLE Wednesday before Easter Transcribed from the 1887 Cassell & Company edition by David Price Saying, Father, if Thou be willing, remove this cup from Me; nevertheless not My will, but Thine, be done. St. Luke xxii. 42. O Lord my God, do thou Thy holy will— I will lie still— I will not stir, lest I forsake Thine arm, And break the charm Which lulls me, clinging to my Father’s breast, In perfect rest. Wild fancy, peace! thou must not me beguile With thy false smile: I know thy flatteries and thy cheating ways; Be silent, Praise, Blind guide with siren voice, and blinding all That hear thy call. Come, Self-devotion, high and pure, Thoughts that in thankfulness endure, Though dearest hopes are faithless found, And dearest hearts are bursting round. Come, Resignation, spirit meek, And let me kiss thy placid cheek, And read in thy pale eye serene Their blessing, who by faith can wean Their hearts from sense, and learn to love God...

Burning Bush by Sébastien Bourdon Fifth Sunday in Lent Transcribed from the 1887 Cassell & Company edition by David Price. And Moses said, I will now turn aside, and see this great sight, why the bush is not burnt. Exodus iii. 3 The historic Muse, from age to age, Through many a waste heart-sickening page Hath traced the works of Man: But a celestial call to-day Stays her, like Moses, on her way, The works of God to scan. Far seen across the sandy wild, Where, like a solitary child, He thoughtless roamed and free, One towering thorn was wrapt in flame— Bright without blaze it went and came: Who would not turn and see? Along the mountain ledges green The scattered sheep at will may glean The Desert’s spicy stores: The while, with undivided heart, The shepherd talks with God apart, And, as he talks, adores. Ye too, who tend Christ’s wildering flock, Well may ye gather round the rock That once was Sion’s hill: To watch the fire upon the mount Still blazing, like ...

Jacob recognizing the robe of his son Joseph | Anonymous Fourth Sunday in Lent by John Keble Transcribed from the 1887 Cassell & Company edition by David Price. Joseph made haste; for his bowels did yearn upon his brother; and he sought where to weep, and he entered into his chamber and wept there. Genesis xliii. 30. There stood no man with him, while Joseph made himself known unto his brethren. Genesis xlv. 1. When Nature tries her finest touch, Weaving her vernal wreath, Mark ye, how close she veils her round, Not to be traced by sight or sound, Nor soiled by ruder breath? Who ever saw the earliest rose First open her sweet breast? Or, when the summer sun goes down, The first soft star in evening’s crown Light up her gleaming crest? Fondly we seek the dawning bloom On features wan and fair, The gazing eye no change can trace, But look away a little space, Then turn, and lo! ’tis there. But there’s a sweeter flower than e’er Blushed on the rosy spray— A brig...

THE CHRISTIAN YEAR by the REV. JOHN KEBLE Transcribed from the 1887 Cassell & Company edition by David Price. Third Sunday in Lent When a strong man armed keepeth his place, his goods are in peace; but when a stronger than he shall come upon him, and overcome him, he taketh from him all his armour wherein he trusted, and divideth his spoils. St. Luke xi. 21, 22. See Lucifer like lightning fall, Dashed from his throne of pride; While, answering Thy victorious call, The Saints his spoils divide; This world of Thine, by him usurped too long, Now opening all her stores to heal Thy servants’ wrong. So when the first-born of Thy foes Dead in the darkness lay, When Thy redeemed at midnight rose And cast their bonds away, The orphaned realm threw wide her gates, and told Into freed Israel’s lap her jewels and her gold. And when their wondrous march was o’er, And they had won their homes, Where Abraham ...

G'AIP24MARCH2024 Purification of the Church Basilica tacet; fremuerunt gentes; gladius caeli findit caelum et descendit ignis sanctus. Angelorum multitudo; templum repetiit. The basilica is silent; the nations rage; a sword of heaven cleaves the sky and a holy fire descends. A multitude of angels: the temple reclaimed.

Batter my heart, three-person'd God ; for you As yet but knock ; breathe, shine, and seek to mend ; That I may rise, and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend Your force, to break, blow, burn, and make me new. I, like an usurp'd town, to another due, Labour to admit you, but O, to no end. Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend, But is captived, and proves weak or untrue. Yet dearly I love you, and would be loved fain, But am betroth'd unto your enemy ; Divorce me, untie, or break that knot again, Take me to you, imprison me, for I, Except you enthrall me, never shall be free, Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me. ― John Donne

Prayer before Jesus Crucified Dear Lord, when looking up at Thee, I see Thy loving eyes on me; Love overflows my humble heart, Knowing what a faithful friend thou art. A cup of sorrow I foresee, Which I accept for love of Thee; Thy painful way I wish to go, The only way to God I know. My soul is full of peace and light, Although in pain, this light shineth bright; For here Thou keepest to Thy breast, My longing heart to find there rest. Leave me here freely all alone, In cell where never sunlight shone; Should no one every speak to me, This golden silence makes me free! For though alone, I have no fear, Never wert Thou, O Lord, so near. Sweet Jesus, please, abide with me! My deepest peace I find in Thee. Amen Saint Titus Brandsma

Dulle Griet (1563 | Bruegel H/T Fr. Z If— by Rudyard Kipling (‘Brother Square-Toes’—Rewards and Fairies) If you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you, If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, But make allowance for their doubting too; If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies, Or being hated, don’t give way to hating, And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise: If you can dream—and not make dreams your master; If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim; If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster And treat those two impostors just the same; If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools: If you can make one heap of all your winnings And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss, And lose, and start again at your beginnings And never breathe a ...

Endymion (April 10, 1818) by John Keats (1795 – 1821) - from the Preface [...] The imagination of a boy is healthy, and the mature imagination of a man is healthy; but there is a space of life between, in which the soul is in a ferment, the character undecided, the way of life uncertain, the ambition thick-sighted: thence proceeds mawkishness, and all the thousand bitters which those men I speak of must necessarily taste in going over the following pages. I hope I have not in too late a day touched the beautiful mythology of Greece, and dulled its brightness: for I wish to try once more, before I bid it farewell. https://standardebooks.org/ebooks/john-keats/poetry/text/poetry#endymion Lines 1 - 24 A thing of beauty is a joy forever: Its loveliness increases; it will never Pass into nothingness; but still will keep A bower quiet for us, and a sleep Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing. Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing A flowery band to bind us to the ear...

Truth (circa late 14 C) by Geoffrey Chaucer Flee fro the prees and dwelle with sothfastnesse; Suffyce unto thy thing, though it be smal, For hord hath hate, and climbing tikelnesse, Prees hath envye, and wele blent overal. Savour no more than thee bihove shal, Reule wel thyself that other folk canst rede, And trouthe thee shal delivere, it is no drede. Tempest thee noght al croked to redresse In trust of hir that turneth as a bal; Gret reste stant in litel besinesse. Be war therfore to sporne ayeyns an al, Stryve not, as doth the crokke with the wal. Daunte thyself, that dauntest otheres dede, And trouthe thee shal delivere, it is no drede. That thee is sent, receyve in buxumnesse; The wrastling for this world axeth a fal. Her is non hoom, her nis but wildernesse: Forth, pilgrim, forth! Forth, beste, out of thy stal! Know thy contree, look up, thank God of al; Hold the heye wey and lat thy gost thee lede, And trouthe thee shal delivere, it is no drede. Therfore, thou Vache, leve th...

At a Solemn Music (1633–34) by John Milton (1608–1674) BLEST pair of Sirens, pledges of Heaven’s joy, Sphere-born harmonious Sisters, Voice and Verse, Wed your divine sounds, and mixed power employ, Dead things with inbreathed sense able to pierce; And to our high-raised phantasy present That undisturbèd Song of pure consent, Aye sung before the sapphire-coloured Throne To Him that sits thereon, With saintly shout and solemn jubily; Where the bright Seraphim in burning row Their loud uplifted angel trumpets blow, And the Cherubic host in thousand quires Touch their immortal harps of golden wires, With those just Spirits that wear victorious palms, Hymns devout and holy psalms Singing everlastingly: That we on Earth, with undiscording voice, May rightly answer that melodious noise; As once we did, till disproportioned Sin Jarred against Nature’s chime, and with harsh din Broke the fair music that all creatures made To their great Lord, whose love their motions swayed In perfect...

Gustav Dore: depiction of Cocytus (Ninth Circle of Hell), Inferno (Dante) Canto XXXIV lines 20 & 21. Beware, ye, the train man consumed by envy and pride; his blog be home to half-truths and charity denied. The train man's daily rant: a dull pugnacious diction; his diary a fecal and odious fiction. His blog blurs facts with lies: a virtual pit of hell, the coldness of Judecca; treach'ry therein doth dwell. If a reader be sane, that toilet he should avoid, a john so filled with malice, as goodwill there's destroyed.

Photo by S.M.E. I left the Lord at the edge of my folly And walked until hope wasted away; Drifting by those sadly familiar places, Among the weathered and tethered faces, Seeking a path to freedom And coveting a life No common man could give, I fought to live Among the nomads, the wearied souls; Bleary-eyed and beaten, I sought a rare gold, And, made cold by the search, I turned around to see that God was exactly where I left Him waiting for me. W14SEPT2019C

The Penitent Hear, O Lord, a faded plea For mercy and tranquility; This failing will now very weak, Thy tender heart doth e'er I seek 'Midst double life thrice tried to live; Thy grace, O Lord, I pray Thee give That I may leave behind all fraud And worship only Thee, true God. 6MAY2019