VOICES OF THE ABBAS

 

Voices of the Abbas

In desert vast where silence lay,
The holy fathers knelt to pray,
With hearts attuned to heaven’s call,
They sought the Word that speaks to all.

No gold had they, no earthly claim,
Yet burned within a living flame;
A hunger deep for truth Divine,
A thirst no world could e’er define.

They waited on the sacred Word,
In stillness where God’s Voice was heard;
Through wind and sun, through night so long,
Their lives became a silent song.

In caves and sands, in lonely place,
They learned the depth of boundless grace.
Through fasting, tears, and watchful eyes,
They fixed their hope beyond the skies.

They taught that holiness is found,
Not in the noise, but sacred ground;
Within the soul that bends in prayer,
Where God is near, forever there.

O desert saints, so strong, so wise,
You turned from earth to gain the prize;
Your witness still lights up our way,
And calls our hearts to watch and pray.

If you wish to know more about the Desert Fathers and Desert Mothers, please click in the link below;

https://churchinterfaith.blogspot.com/2024/

Image courtesy of ChatGPT and CN Whittle "Teaching in desert wilderness"

HUMBLE BEARER OF HOLY SON

 

Humble bearer of Holy Son

From ages vast, before all time,
In wisdom deep, in love sublime,
God looked upon His works so dear,
Each soul, each life, both far and near.

In that gaze so vast, beguiled,
He saw a foal, both meek and mild;
A donkey small, of humble birth,
Yet marked for purpose on this earth.

God looked into those gentle eyes,
So free of pride, so free of guise,
And chose this creature, soft and grey,
To bear His Son one sacred day.

He stooped in love, as legends tell,
To mark a cross where shadows fell;
An ash-toned sign upon foal's back,
A quiet grace he did not lack.

For every life, both great and small,
Is known to God Who fashioned all,
This small foal, so often passed,
Was held in love from first to last.

Then came the day, long prophesied,
When Christ the King in peace would ride;
Through Jerusalem with palms that swayed,
Amid cloaks along the roadway laid.

No fear foal showed, no wild alarm,
He bore the Christ with steady calm;
While voices cried, “Hosanna, sing!”
As they hailed the saving King.

This was the work for which foal was born,
Not crowned with gold, nor rich robed-worn;
But raised to greatness, pure and true -
To carry Christ as foal passed through.

What is greater, tell us now,
Than to bear such weight with willing brow?
To lift the King with heart so free,
With humble, joyful dignity.

So too are we called forth to bear
The weight of love, the call to care;
To keep God's Word in all we do,
In thought, in deed, in purpose true.

Obey His law: be just and kind,
Keep truth and mercy close in mind.
Do not deceive, nor take, nor break
The bonds that love and trust must make.

Harm not a life, but guard it well,
Let peace within your spirit dwell,
“Be like to Me,” the Saviour said,
With gentle Heart and Love outspread.

Long after crosses fell and tomb was bare,
And risen light had filled both earth and air;
That little donkey passed away,
His task complete, on his final day.

Yet surely in God’s realm above,
Foal knew again that touch of love -
The King Who once, with tender hand,
Had guided him through Holy Land.

We as well are chosen still,
Not by our own, but by His will;
For God has seen through time's long haul,
Both you and I - our life's great call.

No life is cast by chance alone,
Each path to Him is surely known.
So let us answer, firm and true,
Whatever work God bids us do.

For in His sight, both great and small
Are held in love - He calls us all.

Image courtesy of ChatGPT with CN Whittle "Palm Sunday procession with celebration"

With thanks to Youtube

HIDDEN GRACE, MYSTERY DEEP

Hidden Grace, Mystery Deep

O Mother Mary, chosen one,
Who bore in womb God’s only Son,
A hidden grace, a mystery deep,
While heaven watched and earth did keep.

Gracious Queen in silence bright,
You carried Love, the world’s true Light,
Unseen the Child, yet fully known,
The Word made flesh, to us now shown.

With Saint Joseph by your side so true,
In humble home your love first grew,
A faithful heart, a family small,
Yet held within the Lord of all.

You rose in haste o’er hill and field,
To Elizabeth, who Baptist didst yield.
Your greeting filled the air with grace,
As God’s own Presence lit that place.

O Queen of refugees, we see
Your flight to Egypt urgently;
With Child and spouse through desert night,
Preserved by God’s protecting Might.

Now crowned in heaven, radiant Queen,
Above all things both heard and seen,
You shine your light on hearts below,
And guide us where God’s Mercies flow.

Keep us, dear Mother, in God’s Thrall,
With loving trust that binds us all.
Protect our souls through night and day,
And lead us on the narrow way.

O'ercome the serpent’s ancient power,
Where fear and shadow oft do tower.
Let evil flee before your grace,
And peace upon the world take place.

When life’s storm has spent its breath,
And we draw near the gate of death,
Bring us, O Queen, by gentle hand,
Safe to heaven’s harbour, fair and grand.

There crowned in light, with saints above,
You reign in everlasting love,
O Mother Mary, hear our plea - 
Lead us to Christ eternally.

 

Image courtesy of ChatGPT with CN Whittle "Mother Mary in Heaven' 

UNDER JOSEPH'S MANTLE

 

                                                                                             Freepik

Under Joseph’s Mantle

O Joseph, guardian of the Lord,
In silent love, in deed not word,
The Church acclaims your hidden might,
A steady flame, a guiding light.

By pontiffs wise your praise was sung -
Pope Pius IX with fervent tongue,
Proclaimed you patron, strong and sure,
Of Christ’s own Church, which trials endure.

Pope Leo XIII, in prayerful plea,
Urged all the faithful bend the knee,
To seek your aid, your fatherly care,
Your watchful heart, your constant prayer.

You stood beside the Virgin fair,
Mary, Mother of Jesus, pure and rare,
Who bore the Son, spotless, Divine,
The Light no darkness could confine.

When danger rose with swift decree,
You fled by night across the lea,
To Egypt’s land, by angel led,
To guard the Child, to keep Him fed.

O foster-father, brave and mild,
You sheltered God - the Holy Child,
In your care the Saviour grew,
In work, in grace, in love so true.

Today the barque of Christ is under gale,
On restless seas of evil assail,
Yet still you stand, serene above,
Sign of strength, a shield of love.

Inspire our hearts to steadfast be,
With quiet faith and purity,
To labour well, to trust, to pray,
And walk with God from day to day.

Pray for us now, O Joseph dear,
That we all may persevere;
Obey God alone, and shun all sin,
Till heaven’s gates we enter in.

When earthly tasks at last are done,
And we behold the Father’s Son,
May we, through grace and lives made whole,
Find rest with God - our final goal.

THE TEKTON'S SON

 

                                                                                             Freepik

The Tekton’s Son

In Nazareth’s hush at break of day,
Where wood and stone and shavings lay,
A patient man with gentle tone
Taught God-made-flesh to shape the stone.

Saint Joseph, worker, strong and true,
Gave all he had, all that he knew,
The craft of tekton, skill refined -
A builder’s art, both hand and mind.

The saw would sing, the hammer fall,
A measured line, a steady call,
While Christ, the Word by Whom all grew,
Learned earthly work as children do.

He watched the grain, the stone, the seam,
He laboured long in sun’s bright beam,
By sweat of brow and aching limb,
Creation’s Lord learned work from him.

O wondrous sight the ages tell;
The Source of all in workshop dwell,
Receiving from a father’s care,
The humble trades that men must bear.

Joseph taught with quiet grace,
No pride to cloud his weathered face,
But love that formed in hidden years
The Saviour’s path through toil and tears.

So too are we by God assigned
Our works of heart, of hand, of mind,
Through changing days, through shifting call,
One path, then more - God orders all.

In youth we build, in age we guide,
In strength we strive, in frail abide.
Yet each vocation, great or small,
Is holy when we give our all.

Let us then walk as Christ has shown,
Who shaped the wood, who hewed the stone,
Then taught as Rabbi, healed, forgave,
And gave His life the world to save.

With Joseph’s love let us be true,
In faithful work whate’er we do,
And mark with prayer and hearts made bright
His feast upon May's first light.

O blessed worker, guard our way,
Teach us to labour, watch, and pray,
Till all our work on earth is done,
And we behold the Father’s Son.

LAMPS IN THE NIGHT

 

                                                           Freepik

Lamps in the Night

In hush of night when stars burn bright,
Ten maidens waited in silent light,
Their lamps held high in hopeful grace,
To greet the Bridegroom face to Face.

Five were wise with hearts aware,
They trimmed their lamps with patient care,
Their vessels filled with oil that stayed,
Prepared for joy that would not fade.

Five were foolish, light of mind,
They left their careful thoughts behind.
Their lamps grew dim, their oil ran dry,
Yet still they slept, 'neath darkened sky.

The midnight cry rang sharp and clear,
“The Bridegroom comes - His hour is near!”
The wise arose with steady flame,
Their lamps alive at Holy Name.

The foolish trembled, lost in dread,
“Our light is gone, our hope has fled,”
They rushed away to seek the oil,
But time was lost in hurried toil.

The door was closed, the feast begun,
The race of faith already won.
Too late they knocked with anxious plea,
But barred remained the mystery.

So let us walk with watchful sight,
And keep our lamps with burning light;
Through faithful hearts and deeds made pure,
In God’s commandments we endure.

For when He comes, both swift and true,
May He find light alive in you -
A flame of love that will not part,
Prepared in soul, and mind, and heart.

PUT UP THY SWORD

 

Put Up Thy Sword

There is no war that justice can defend,
No blade that heals, no fire that makes amend.
For Christ, upon the cross in sorrow cried,
Yet forgave those who pierced His Hands and Side.

No call He gave to Heaven’s vast array,
Though legions stood, awaiting but His Say.
More than twelve hosts of angels, strong and bright,
Held back their power, restrained by Love, not might.

To Peter then, His voice was clear and sure:
“Put up thy sword; this is not heaven’s cure.”
Not steel nor wrath, nor vengeance stained in red,
But mercy’s path is where His Feet have led.

The Father could have torn the skies apart,
Sent forth His Might with thunder from His Heart.
Yet silence reigned where fury might have dinned,
For Love stood firm where war has always sinned.

What justice lies in limbs by fire undone?
In blinded eyes that never see the sun?
When children fall and innocence is slain,
Can any cause make holy such deep pain?

No! Christ still weeps where bombs and hatred fall,
His gentle voice still pleads above it all.
“This is not justice - hear the wounded cry,
For every soul destroyed, a part of Me must die.”

The law was given: “Thou shalt never kill,”
A sacred truth, unbent by human will.
No throne of state, no banner raised on high
Can cleanse the blood that stains beneath the sky.

Though Augustine sought rules for war’s domain,
Christ’s words still echo, simple, clear, and plain:
Lay down the sword, let violence depart -
For God desires a clean and merciful heart.

For one day we shall stand before His Throne,
With nothing hidden, every deed made known.
Those who fell by unjust hand may rise
As silent witnesses before His Eyes.

Shall blood then drip from hands we cannot hide,
As voices cry from earth where they have died?
Or shall we meet Him bathed in mercy’s light,
With souls made gentle, choosing what is right?

Christ did not conquer through the spear or flame,
But bore our wounds and suffered all our shame.
No violence marked the victory He won
Just Love that rose, and cared for everyone.

So let us walk the path our Saviour trod,
With reverent hearts that honour life and God.
No war is just where love is cast aside - 
Put up thy sword, let Christ in us abide.

Image courtesy of ChatGPT with CN Whittle