Cell Poem

This is a poem we made in our cell - each person putting together a few lines based around a word taken from an alphabetical list of names for God. This is the (alphabetised!) result.

I really enjoyed the result and was impressed by how creative a group we are :)


Forgiver of debts;
Everything we owe
You paid yourself.

Glorious God, do we see you in your full glory?
If we saw your glory could we stand?
How overwhelming, Lord, that we can, like Moses, see you in your glory
and live.

Your awesome Holiness is so beautiful,
Revealing your pureness; showing your love
In the greatest way possible.
You are Holy; you are like no other.

Immanuel
God with us.
God: huge, universe-creating, nation-toppling, miracle-causing God
with us
In our weakness
In our pain, our brokenness
In our joys & in our sorrows
In our humanity.
Now alive within us,
Bringing life to dead bodies,
Light to dark recesses.
Immanuel.

Teacher: patiently explaining,
Gently upbraiding;
Sharing understanding,
Righteously demanding.

Unchanging One
You are still the mighty God
That spoke the world into being.
Forever you will be powerful.
You are still the merciful God
that sent his Son to die for us .
Forever we are yours.

Lord, you are the
Unchanging one.
From everlasting to
everlasting you are God. Unshakable,
dependable, always faithful.
Circumstances change, but you
remain the same.

War Poetry

I've been reading poetry. I discovered a book of metaphysical poetry on Seymour's bookshelf and I've been enjoying some more John Donne, although my favourite remains his sonnet 'Batter my heart'.

On the Today programme this morning I listened to Brian Turner reading his striking poem 'Here, Bullet', written while serving in the American army in Iraq in 2003. You can listen to him read it on the Fishouse (sic) website.

Finally, this evening I came across 'The Sorrow of God' by Geoffrey Studdert Kennedy on Ben Witherington's blog. Like Job, but with the insight of the cross, this is one poem I'll be going back to.

"So it isn't just only the crown of thorns
What has pierced and torn God's head
He knows the feel of the bullet too,
And he's had his touch of the lead."

There's nothing quite like poetry for expressing truth...

The Gate of the Year

I said to the man
Who stood at the gate of the year,
“Give me a light that I may tread safely
into the unknown.”

And he replied,
“Go out into the darkness
and put your hand into the hand of God
That shall be to you
Better than the light
And safer than a known way!”

So I went forth
And finding the hand of God
Trod gladly into the light.

Minnie Louise Haskins, 1908

November Passion

I was excited to see that my mum's been writing more nature-inspired poetry, this time a November Passion. A vivid and affecting picture of Christ's death...all the more poignant because we know that spring will come!

The Pulley - GEORGE HERBERT

WHEN God at first made Man,
Having a glass of blessings standing by—
Let us (said He) pour on him all we can;
Let the world's riches, which dispersèd lie,
Contract into a span.

So strength first made a way,
Then beauty flow'd, then wisdom, honour, pleasure:
When almost all was out, God made a stay,
Perceiving that, alone of all His treasure,
Rest in the bottom lay.

For if I should (said He)
Bestow this jewel also on My creature,
He would adore My gifts instead of Me,
And rest in Nature, not the God of Nature:
So both should losers be.

Yet let him keep the rest,
But keep them with repining restlessness;
Let him be rich and weary, that at least,
If goodness lead him not, yet weariness
May toss him to My breast.

Easter Communion - Gerard Manley Hopkins

Pure fasted faces draw unto this feast:
God comes all sweetness to your Lenten lips.
You striped in secret with breath-taking whips,
Those crooked rough-scored chequers may be pieced
to crosses meant for Jesus; you whom the East
With draught of thin and pursuant cold so nips
Breathe Easter now; you serged fellowships,
You vigil-keepers with low flames decreased,

God shall o'er-brim the measures you have spent
With oil of gladness; for sackcloth and frieze
And the ever-fretting shirt of punishment
Give myrrhy-threaded golden folds of ease.
Your scarce-sheathed bones are weary of being bent:
Lo, God shall strengthen all the feeble knees.

God's Grandeur

While we're on the subject, this is Gerard Manley Hopkins:

The world is charged with the grandeur of God.
It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;
It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil
Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod?
Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;
And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;
And wears man's smudge and shares man's smell: the soil
Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.

And for all this, nature is never spent;
There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;
And though the last lights off the black West went
Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs --
Because the Holy Ghost over the bent
World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.

Listen to it being read by Stanley Kunitz.

Autumn glory

I loved this poem by BJ, a celebration of God's creative awesomeness on show in the Autumn colours and weather.


"One generation will commend your works to another;
they will tell of your mighty acts.
They will speak of the glorious splendor of your majesty,
and I will meditate on your wonderful works.
They will tell of the power of your awesome works,
and I will proclaim your great deeds."
Psalm 145:4-6

Jumbled joy

Here's a little something I put together today while work-avoiding.

It's made up of lines from the songs on my current worship cd-mix. I'll be impressed if anyone guesses all 14...

Lift up your eyes,
Early in the morning.
The harvest is here,
The kingdom is near!
Though there’s pain in the offering,
I will celebrate the light.

I’ve tasted and I’ve seen,
I know with all my heart.
No one else will do:
Heaven’s perfect Lamb,
I’ll lay it all down again,
It’s You I live for, everyday!

Bigger than the heavens and the highest of heights,
The universe declares your majesty.
You are far above,
Strong to deliver, mighty to save.
I’ll learn to stand upon Your word.

My heart will choose to say:
I’m gonna stand,
I’m gonna run,
I’ll follow after You.
To find You in the place Your glory dwells,
That’s the cry of my heart.

When I’m found in the desert place,
Help me know You are near.
I’m lost without you!
I’ll fear no evil for You are with me,
With wisdom, power and love.
Who’s your equal?

Your Spirit’s water to my soul,
Healing comes from your hands,
The fire of God,
Stirring up my passion.
My heart is satisfied within your presence,
the warmth of Your embrace.

Your glory will fill the earth,
Like water the sea.
Peeling back the darkness,
Rising up in me.
You’re all I ever needed,
My daily bread, the air I breathe.

It’s true and I believe it!
Our God turns the bitter into sweet,
Mercy and grace he gave us at the cross.
He will watch over your coming and your going
And calm the storm with His hand.

Summer Psalm

I enjoyed this psalm by BJ!

"..Londoners and strangers
Let everything out on this sunny day
Praise him!"

Ribbet ribbet!

Do you like frogs...? They lead a rather chilled out lifestyle!

Invigilating - the silent killer

I wrote this in the exam hall yesterday to stave off death from boredom...

Long for Blue

Of all the horrors
Within this room:
Unseeing stares
And aching wrists;
The light’s the worst:

Yellow, heavy.
A sickly pallor falls
On all who wait
And long for blue
Skies and lunch.

A poem I found on my hard drive

Rain at Sunset

The air is yellow, perfect.
Rain falls gently,
Silently weeping.
Every drop tells a story;
Rolling together,
Lost forever,
Each and every one reflecting
The dying light.

The light is golden, royal.
The rain is cleaning:
The tears of heaven,
Claiming the dust.
Yet clouds linger,
Never still, never resting;
And the rays are fading fast.

The earth is still, waiting.
Cleaned, it rests,
Yet not unspeaking:
Above my head
The drops are playing
An everlasting rhythm,
Each one uniquely praising
The dying Sun.

The Hound of Heaven

I fled Him, down the nights and down the days;
I fled Him, down the arches of the years;
I fled Him, down the labyrinthine ways
Of my own mind; and in the mist of tears
I hid from Him, and under running laughter.
Up vistaed hopes I sped;
And shot, precipitated,
Adown Titanic glooms of chasmed fears,
From those strong Feet that followed, followed after.
But with unhurrying chase,
And unperturbèd pace,
Deliberate speed, majestic instancy,
They beat - and a Voice beat
More instant than the Feet -
"All things betray thee, who betrayest Me."

I pleaded, outlaw-wise,
By many a hearted casement, curtained red,
Trellised with intertwining charities;
(For, though I knew His love Who followèd,
Yet I was sore adread
Lest, having Him, I must have naught beside.)
But, if one little casement parted wide,
The gust of His approach would clash it to.
Fear wist not to evade as Love wist to pursue.
Across the margent of the world I fled,
And troubled the gold gateways of the stars,
Smiting for shelter on their clangèd bars;
Fretted to dulcet jars
And silvern chatter the pale ports o' the moon.
I said to Dawn: Be sudden - to Eve: Be soon;
With thy young skiey blossoms heap me over
From this tremendous Lover -
Float thy vague veil about me, lest He see!
I tempted all His servitors, but to find
My own betrayal in their constancy,
In faith to Him their fickleness to me,
Their traitorous trueness, and their loyal deceit.
To all swift things for swiftness did I sue;
Clung to the whistling mane of every wind.
But whether they swept, smoothly fleet,
The long savannahs of the blue;
Or whether, Thunder-driven,
They clanged His chariot 'thwart a heaven,
Plashy with flying lightnings round the spurn o' their feet: -
Fear wist not to evade as Love wist to pursue.
Still with unhurrying chase, And unperturbèd pace,
Deliberate speed, majestic instancy,
Came on the following Feet,
And a Voice above their beat -
"Naught shelters thee, who wilt not shelter Me."

Now of that long pursuit
Comes on at had the bruit;
That Voice is round me like a bursting sea:
"And is thy earth so marred,
Shattered in shard on shard?
Lo, all things fly thee, for thou fliest Me!
Strange, piteous, futile thing!
Wherfore should any set thee love apart?
Seeing none but I make much of naught" (He said),
"And human love needs human meriting:
How hast thou merited -
Of all man's clotted clay, the dingiest clot?
Alack, thou knowest not
How little worthy of any love thou art!
Whom wilt thou find to love ignoble thee,
Save Me, save only Me?
All which I took from thee I did but take,
Not for thy harms,
But just that thou might'st seek it in My arms.
All which thy child's mistake
Fancies as lost, I have stored for thee at home:
Rise, clasp My hand, and come."

Halts by me that footfall:
Is my gloom, after all,
Shade of His hand, outstretched caressingly?
"Ah, fondest, blindest, weakest,
I am He Whom thou seekest!
Thou dravest love from thee, who dravest Me."