And Thou

CHILD

art

prophet of the Highest 

 go with JESUS

paving His ways

 

Be Fruitful

 

Verbo Encarnado

 

Emmanuel Godo

 

Prayer & Wealth

 Folded hands signify being bound; even more, it seems to me: between folded hands there's no more room for anything else -- even for something that is just coming into being. But when the hands separate again after prayer, perhaps LORD, you can entrust them with something as a proof that everything comes from You. 

 The more Love one gives away the richer one becomes. Wealth finally becomes limitless, in fact, only when it has become naked poverty.

. . .

when The Crown of Thorns

becomes

The Crown of GOD's KISSES 

🔷 ⚜️ 🔷

Rabia of Basra

 

O my Lord,

the stars glitter

and the eyes of men are closed.

Kings have locked their doors

and each lover is alone with his love.

Here, I am alone with You.

"Women in Praise of The Sacred", edited by Jane Hirshfield, 1995

Joseph Mary Plunkett

"I See His Blood Upon The Rose"

I see His blood upon the rose

And in the stars the glory of His eyes,

His body gleams amid eternal snows,

His tears fall from the skies.

I see His face in every flower;

The thunder and the singing of the birds

Are but His voice -- and carven by His power,

Rocks are His written words.

All pathways by His feet are worn,

His strong Heart stirs the ever - beating sea.

His crown of thorns is twined with every thorn,

His Cross is every tree.

"The Golden Book of Catholic Poetry" edited by Alfred Noyes - J.B. Lippincott Company, New York, NY 1946

John Hall Wheelock (1886-1978): "Exile From God"

I do not fear to lay my body down

                             In death, to share

The life of the dark earth, and lose my own,

                              If God is there.

I have so loved all sense of Him, sweet might

                              Of colour and of sound, --

His tangible loveliness and living light

                              That robes me 'round.

If to His heart in the hushed grave and dim

                                We sink more near,

It shall be well -- living we rest in Him.

                                 Only I fear

Lest from my God in lonely death I lapse,

                                 And the dumb clod,

Lose Him; for God is life, and death perhaps

                                 Exile from God.

The Golden Book of Catholic Poetry, edited by Alfred Noyes, 1946

Amado Nervo

 "Cuando Dios Lo Quiera"

Santa florecita, celestial renuevo,

que hiciste de mi alma una primavera,

y cuyo perfume para siempre llevo:

Cuando en mi camino te hallaré de nuevo?

-- Cuando Dios lo quiera, cuando Dios lo quiera!

. . .

Poema del Libro "La Amada Inmóvil", 1947

Come HOLY SPIRIT Come

 Fill the hearts of The Faithful 

in JESUS name

Amen

🔷    ⚜️    🔷

Tobias and The Angel

Donald Justice : "There is a Gold Light In Certain Old Paintings"

1

There is a gold light in certain old paintings

That represents a diffusion of sunlight.

It is like happiness, when we are happy.

It comes from everywhere and from nowhere at once, this light,

          And the poor soldiers sprawled at the foot of the Cross

          Share in this charity equally with the cross.

 

2

Orpheus hesitated beside the black river

With so much to look forward to he looked back.

We think he sang then, but the song is lost.

At least he had seen once more the beloved back.

 I say the song went this way: O prolong

 Now the sorrow if that is all there is to prolong.

3 

The world is very dusty, uncle. Let us work.

One day the sickness shall pass from the earth for good.

The orchard will bloom; someone will play the guitar.

Our work will be seen as strong and clean and good.

         And all that we suffered through having existed 

         Shall be forgotten as though it had never existed.

Donald Justice : "About My Poems"

How fashionably sad my early poems are!

On their clipped lawns and hedges the snows fall;

Rains beat against the tarpaulins of their porches,

Where, Sunday mornings, the bored children sprawl,

Reading the comics, before the parents rise.

--  The rhymes, the meters, how they paralyze!

Who walks out through their streets tonight? No one.

You know these small towns, how all traffic stops

At ten; the corner streetlamps gathering moths;

And the pale mannequins waiting in dark shops,

Undressed, and ready for the dreams of men.

--  Now the long silence. Now the beginning again.

Donald Justice "Collected Poems"  --  Albert A. Knopf. Inc  ©2004

Deo Omnis Gloria

 

The Rod

The LORD says

Arise,

Plead your case before the mountains,

Let the hills hear your voice.

Hear the rod!

Beowulf

Blessed is he

who after death

can approach

      The LORD

and find friendship

in the Father's embrace.

Lines 187-188

Charles L. Hall (1847-1940)

 Surely into the warp and woof of our North Dakota fabric, we can, if we will, weave a small red strand, not indeed bulkingly large, but enough to give a piquancy to the pattern, that future generations with a larger sense of humanity will appreciate more than the present.

Out Of A Stone

 

Story Board II