A Hymn ~ Anne Bronte

Eternal power of earth and air,
Unseen, yet seen in all around,
Remote, but dwelling everywhere,
Though silent, heard in every sound.
If e’er thine ear in mercy bent
When wretched mortals cried to thee,
And if indeed thy Son was sent
To save lost sinners such as me.

Then hear me now, while kneeling here;
I lift to thee my heart and eye
And all my soul ascends in prayer;
O give me -­ give me Faith I cry.

Without some glimmering in my heart,
I could not raise this fervent prayer;
But O a stronger light impart,
And in thy mercy fix it there!

While Faith is with me I am blest;
It turns my darkest night to day;
But while I clasp it to my breast
I often feel it slide away.

Then cold and dark my spirit sinks,
To see my light of life depart,
And every fiend of Hell methinks
Enjoys the anguish of my heart.

What shall I do if all my love,
My hopes, my toil, are cast away,
And if there be no God above
To hear and bless me when I pray?

If this be vain delusion all,
If death be an eternal sleep,
And none can hear my secret call,
Or see the silent tears I weep.

O help me God! for thou alone
Canst my distracted soul relieve;
Forsake it not — it is thine own,
Though weak yet longing to believe.

O drive these cruel doubts away
And make me know that thou art God;
A Faith that shines by night and day
Will lighten every earthly load.

If I believe that Jesus died
And waking rose to reign above,
Then surely Sorrow, Sin and Pride
Must yield to peace and hope and love.

And all the blessed words he said
Will strength and holy joy impart,
A shield of safety o’er my head,
A spring of comfort in my heart.


Is It Raining Little Flower ~ Anonymous

Is it raining, little flower?

    Be glad of rain.

  Too much sun would wither thee,

    ‘Twill shine again.

  The sky is very black, ’tis true,

    But just behind it shines

      The blue.

  Art thou weary, tender heart?

    Be glad of pain;

  In sorrow the sweetest things will grow

    As flowers in the rain.

  God watches and thou wilt have sun

    When clouds their perfect work

      Have done.


The Divine Image ~ William Blake

To Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love
All pray in their distress;
And to these virtues of delight
Return their thankfulness.

For Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love
Is God, our father dear,
And Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love
Is Man, his child and care.

For Mercy has a human heart,
Pity a human face,
And Love, the human form divine,
And Peace, the human dress.

Then every man, of every clime,
That prays in his distress,
Prays to the human form divine,
Love, Mercy, Pity, Peace.

And all must love the human form,
In heathen, turk, or jew;
Where Mercy, Love, & Pity dwell
There God is dwelling too.

Jesus, Only Jesus ~ Bernidito Rosinha Pinto

Show me a man who has calmed the storm and walked on the waters of Galilee; 
show me a man who has cured the sick and healed the lepers
show me a man who has brought back to life those who had died
show me a man who restored the sight of the blind
show me a man who healed the dumb and the deaf
show me a man who has made wine out of water.
Show me a man who had no education but taught crowds by parables
show me a man who has multiplied bread and fish and fed thousands 
show me a man who has fasted for forty days yet avoided devil’s temptations; 
show me a man who climbed the Mount Calvary carrying his own cross
show me a man who was nailed on the same cross he carried uphill
show me a man who though innocent was hung among thieves and convicts
show me a man who has risen from death and ascended to heaven
show me a man who has not used swords of hatred but words of love and peace 
show me a man who has been revered for centuries 
that man is Jesus, only Jesus. 


The Richer Mines ~ John Kendrick Bangs

When it comes to buying shares

    In the mines of earth,

  May I join the millionaires

    Who are rich in mirth.

  Let me have a heavy stake

    In fresh mountain air—

  I will promise now to take

    All that you can spare.

  When you’re setting up your claim

    In the Mines of Glee,

  Don’t forget to use my name—

    You can count on me.

  Nothing better can be won,

    Freer from alloy,”

“Than a bouncing claim in “Con-

    Solidated Joy.”

  You can have your Copper Stocks

    Gold and tin and coal—

  What I’d have within my box

    Has to do with Soul.

John Kendrick Bangs

Confidence ~ Sarah Rose


Confidence walks down the halls. 
Her chin up. Her back straight.
Always calm and composed.
She walks with purpose. People move out of her way.
People surround but none are her friend.  
Always chosen to be the leader.
She sets an example. People look up to her.
At night she goes home and collapses in her bed.
Takes out her phone and calls Tiredness her best friend. 

By Sarah Rose


Writer’s Wisdom ~ Jane Hirshfield on Making a Poem

Making a poem is neither a wholly conscious activity nor an act of unconscious transcription — it is a way for new thinking and feeling to come into existence, a way in which disparate modes of meaning and being may join. This is why the process of revising a poem is no arbitrary tinkering, but a continued honing of the self at the deepest level. ~ Jane Hirshfield