FRAGRANCE JAR OF DEVOTION

Mary anointed the Feet of Jesus with precious spikenard. She had purchased the costly jar of perfumed ointment. Years of saving, making items and selling them for small coins at market, the saving of a price of loaf and fasting in its stead. All these things Mary possibly did, and saved for a rainy day. Then, in one magnificent gesture, Mary purchased the jar of spikenard.

Mary gave witness that Jesus Christ is Messiah. She anointed the Feet of Christ with spikenard. Mary wept with repentance and gratitude at forgiveness of her sins. She showed her love for Jesus by washing His Feet with her tears, drying them with her hair. Though Mary caused scandal amongst those around, and Judas was concerned at possible waste, Jesus commended her. Christ said that Mary had anointed Him ahead of time, for burial.

Such deeds of love are never a waste. Rather, they are spending our best and all we have on Jesus Christ, the Son of God. 

Fragrance jar of devotion

In quiet streets where merchants cried,
Where coins were earned with humble pride;
A woman laboured, day by day,
And slowly stored her gains away.

A loaf forgone, a hunger borne,
One simple dress, now patched and worn;
Small coins she saved from all she made,
Through heat of sun and market trade.

Through years of want, through nights of prayer,
She kept a treasure hidden there -
Not gold for ease, nor wealth for show,
But love that only Christ would know.

At last she found that costly grace,
Pure spikenard sealed in fragile vase;
A fragrance rare, a treasure bright,
The sum of years brought into light.

Then came the hour, the sacred place,
She stood before her Saviour’s Face;
And knowing Him, her heart laid bare,
She wept in love beyond compare.

Her tears fell soft upon His Feet,
Sorrow before Mercy complete;
For He had seen her hidden pain,
And washed her soul from every stain.

She broke the jar - no thought of cost,
No counting what the world called lost;
The fragrance poured, so rich, so free,
Her treasured act of dignity.

With loosened hair, she gently dried,
The Feet of Him soon crucified;
Her love proclaimed in silent art,
Outpouring of her grateful heart.

The room was stirred with whispered blame,
With judging eyes and words of shame;
“Such waste,” they thought, “So strange a deed;
The poor could have claimed this costly need!”

But one among them weighed the price,
With mazed thought and guarded eyes -
Judas spoke of loss, of squandered gold,
Yet knew not love so sure and bold.

Then Christ, the Lord, with gentle Voice,
Declared her act the truest choice:
“She has anointed Me this day,
Preparing for My burial way.”

No gift of love is ever waste,
When offered pure, though sacred haste;
For what we give with all our heart,
Becomes of heaven’s realm a part.

O may we learn from Mary’s grace,
To seek our Lord, to know His Face;
To spend our best, our all, our store,
On Him whom we are longing for.

For He is Christ, the Holy One,
God’s own beloved, eternal Son -
And love like hers shall ever stand,
Remembered in His saving Hand.

With thanks to Youtube

https://www.youtube.com/shorts/rtSLBHXojqc

JESUS WEPT

 

Jesus wept at the loss of Lazarus, His dear friend. The Master also wept as He witnessed the grief of the family and friends. God had made Adam and Eve from the earth, had breathed His own Life into the clay figures. We, descendants of the first parents, are joyful to be children of God, heirs of His Breath. 

Yet, God had not experienced what His creations truly feel at sorrow of death. God sent His only Son, to experience our lives to the fullest. Thus, Jesus wept. Why, in so many traditions, do we expect men not to weep? Do we not all feel? Men as well as women, boys as well as girls? Do not unshed tears come out later in our bodies as anxiety, unresolved grief, panic attacks, post-traumatic stress syndrome, heart attacks, strokes? 

Let us feel our grief, and shed our tears. As Jesus did.

Jesus Wept

Before the stone where sorrow lay,
Where death had seemed to claim its day;
Christ stood amidst grief's great depth,
And wept before the face of death.

For Lazarus, His cherished friend,
For love that seemed to meet its end;
For sisters bowed in aching pain,
And hearts that would not heal again.

The tears He shed were not in vain,
They fell like soft, redeeming rain;
For God who formed us from the sod.
Now wept among us - man and God.

From dust He shaped both form and face,
And breathed in us His living Grace;
From Adam’s line our lives began,
The breath of God in fragile man.

Yet though He made the heart to feel,
Its wounds, its breaking, and its heal;
He had not walked our shadowed way,
Nor wept as mortals weep one day.

So Love came down, in flesh and bone,
To claim our griefs as now His own;
Born of a woman, meek and mild,
The Holy One, yet Mary’s Child.

He knew our hunger, thirst, and loss,
The weight of sorrow, and the Cross;
Christ walked the road our feet must tread,
And wept beside the silent dead.

Then why do we, in hardened guise,
Forbid the tears within our eyes?
Why teach the heart to lock its pain,
As though true strength must still remain?

Do not those tears, if held inside,
Return as storms we cannot hide -
In trembling chest, in anxious breath,
In silent wounds that echo death?

O let us learn from Christ our Lord,
Whose tears no shame nor weakness stored;
For in His weeping love was shown,
As God who made our grief His own.

So let us feel, and not deny
The tears that fall, the inward cry;
For we are His - both frail and strong;
And in our tears, we all belong.

With thanks to Youtube

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pMbE4Wf9rT4

HYMN OF THANKS FOR HEALERS

 

Let us thank God for every physician, nurse, chemist, herbalist and health professional over the ages, who have made and administered remedies for pain and restoration to health. We are blessed to have dedicated called, who have spent their lives in the pursuit of excellence in medicine, nursing, healing and medicaments.

Hymn of Thanks for Healers

O Divine Source of wisdom bright,
Who kindled minds with healing light;
We lift our hearts in grateful praise,
For healers’ works through all our days.

For every physician, wise and true,
Whose caring hands our strength renew;
For every chemist, keen of sight,
Who laboured long by day and night.

For those who searched through nature’s store,
In root and leaf, on distant shore;
Who drew from earth its hidden grace,
To soothe the pain of suffering’s face.

For nurses gentle, watchful, near,
Whose quiet presence calms our fear;
Whose tender care and patient art,
Bring balm and hope to mind and heart.

For all who answered to the call,
To serve the weak, to tend to all;
Who gave their lives in steadfast quest,
To bring to suffering relief and rest.

Bless every mind that sought to find,
Relief for body, soul, and mind;
For all whose skill, refined through years,
Has wiped away each patient’s tears.

Through trial and effort, success and gain,
They strove to lessen human pain;
With courage firm and vision clear,
They pressed on for many a year.

O Giver of each healing gift,
Our hearts in thanks to You we lift;
For through these souls Your Mercy flows,
In their work Your Goodness shows.

May all their labours, great and small,
Be crowned with blessing over all;
May all their service ever be,
Great sign of Your deep Charity.

Image courtesy of ChatGPT with CN Whittle "Galen creates healing cream"

ROSE OF EDEN RESTORED

Jesus is the Rose of Sharon, the Lily of the Valley. Almighty God sent this Rose to comfort us in our self-chosen state after the Fall, when we no longer fell under Theocracy of God. The Almighty promised us the Saviour, Who would come to save us from consequences of the Fall.

The rose flower is beauty, it is grace. Many angels and saints who come to visit us on earth, send rose scent to bring a moment of sweetness and hope. 

Let us thank God for all herbalists who heal using rose, and for rose's healing properties. Let us be thankful for the joy of this exquisite flower in our midst. 

May rose portend the heavenly kingdom, where all joy and beauty reigns. May the rose and all flowers in the heavenly garden, blush in joy to be near Christ in the kingdom.

Rose of Eden restored

O Rose of Sharon, pure and bright,
Soft blooming in eternal light;
O Lily of the Valley fair,
God’s tender Love made full known there.

When we, by choice, from grace did fall,
Then shadows dimmed creation’s call
No longer held in Theocracy’s embrace,
We wandered far from Eden’s place.

Yet God, in mercy, did not leave
Our wounded hearts alone to grieve;
He promised One, a saving Bloom,
Whose life would break the darkest gloom.

The Rose was sent in time and space,
A sign of beauty, truth, and grace;
His petals speak of heaven above,
The fragrance whispers: “God is love.”

In quiet hours, when burdens press,
When life feels but a wilderness;
A sudden sweetness fills the air -
The hint of angels lingers there.

For saints and hosts unseen draw near,
To comfort hearts weighed down by fear;
In that sweet scent, so soft, so mild,
We are consoled; God’s weary child.

Blessed be God for healing art,
For hands that soothe the aching heart;
For those who tend with gentle care,
And find His grace in roses fair.

O gift of petals, balm and sign,
Sweet testament of love Divine;
A glimpse of joy is gently shown,
Where beauty flowers before His throne.

In that Kingdom, bright above,
Where all is peace, and all is love;
I pray my garden there may be
With roses blooming endlessly -

Each blossom turning, full of grace,
With full-felt joy toward His Face;
Till all creation, bright and true,
Blushes in Christ, forever new.

Image courtesy of ChatGPT with CN Whittle "Jesus blessing the rose"

With thanks to Youtube

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3-4u1IWVU6o

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

CALLED BY THE VOICE

 

Called by the Voice

Jesus Christ called His friend by name that day,
Lazarus rose as death was turned away;
From shadowed depths, from silent night,
He stepped again into the light.

The crowd stood still in trembling awe,
At what their very eyes then saw;
The grave undone, its hold released,
By Him Who is the Life and Priest.

So too shall we, when life has passed,
Be called to rise at last, at last;
No need for fear, nor dark despair,
For Christ Himself shall meet us there.

Yet Lazarus, restored to breath,
Had walked the hidden halls of death;
And life anew he learned to live,
Each simple act a gift to give.

The sunlight warm, the voices near,
All changed by what he’d known so clear;
The echo of that mighty call,
Still stirred his heart beyond it all.

O mystery deep, O wonder bright,
That Love can conquer death’s long night;
How great is God, through all our days,
Worthy of endless song and praise.

Then let us not within hearts die,
Nor let the soul in silence lie;
But let God’s holy Will take part,
And dwell alive in every heart.

With joy embrace each given day,
Walk gently in the rightful way;
Delight in beauty, pure within -
The world’s fair charm, untouched by sin.

https://www.youtube.com/shorts/EvYQrYvrToU

With thanks to youtube

VOICES OF THE AMMAS

 

Voices of the Ammas 

They left the rush of crowded days, the markets loud and wide,
And journeyed to the desert’s hush where God alone would guide.
The early mothers, strong in grace, in silence made their home,
Where hearts grew vast in hidden prayer, though outward lives seemed lone.

In caves of dust and burning sun, in cells both bare and small,
They learned to hear the still, soft Voice that gently speaks to all.
Through fasting deep and vigils long, through tears both pure and wise,
They fixed their gaze on Christ alone, their treasure and their prize.

The Ammas spoke with quiet strength, their counsel clear and true,
To souls who sought the narrow path and longed their God to view.
Their words, like wells in desert lands, still draw the thirsty near,
A living stream of holy truth that echoes year by year.

They call to us within our hearts, beyond the world’s loud claim:
“Become a desert in your soul, and kindle there His flame.
Be anchorites in secret depths, though streets around you roar,
Hold fast the Word in silent faith, and seek His Face the more.”

For we who walk the marketplace, with hurried steps and eyes,
Are summoned to that inward place where deeper treasure lies.
To live the wisdom that they gave, with steadfast hearts made whole,
And carry Christ, the Living Word, to every seeking soul.

O mothers of the ancient way, your witness still remains,
A lamp within our modern night, a balm for hidden pains.
Teach us to dwell with God within, though outward paths we roam -
Till every heart, made still in Him, becomes His desert home.

Image courtesy of ChatGPT and CN Whittle "Living water in the desert cave" 

SOLUS CHRISTUS

 

SOLUS CHRISTUS

Upon the clouds in radiant light, Christ rides the heavens high,
A crown upon His gentle brow, all glory in His Eye.
A white horse bears our King of kings through vast eternal air,
All the saints in garments white stand gathered round Him there.

Beside Him stands the angel bright, with standard lifted strong,
A banner cast upon the wind, the truth down ages long:
Solus Christus - Christ alone - the saving, sovereign Name,
The Lamb once slain, now risen Lord, forevermore the same.

We follow Him, our Messiah, through shadow, storm, and flame,
With hearts made still in trust and faith, we call upon His Name.
For He alone has borne our sin, has opened heaven’s door,
And leads us onward, step by step, to life forevermore.

Let not another voice arise to cloud the truth we sing,
No fleeting word of passing earth can crown another king.
For in the marketplace of souls, where many call and rail,
We lift our gaze to Christ alone, our hope will never fail.

All worship, honour, praise belong to God enthroned above,
Who sent His Son to ransom us in sacrificial love.
In Him our future firmly rests, our endless destiny - 
O Christ, our Lord, our guiding Light, our all eternity.

Image courtesy of ChatGPT with CN Whittle "Solus Christus"

HEART-STONE OF CHRIST

 

                                                                                                          Freepik

Heart-Stone of Christ

In quiet hours when earth grows still,
And bends at last to Heaven’s will,
A whisper stirs within the soul;
A Presence there that makes us whole.

Not distant, cold, or far above,
But near to us in tender love;
In hidden moments, soft and clear,
We wake and find that God is near.

We walk with Him through passing days,
In simple thoughts, in work, in praise;
And slowly, through His guiding Light,
Our hearts are formed in what is right.

For on the mount His voice once rang,
Where truth like living water sprang;
There mercy, meekness, hearts made pure,
Became the path both strong and sure.

And as we climb that sacred height,
Through shadowed vale or morning bright,
We bend beside the dusty sod,
To find a sign that speaks of God:

A rust-red stone, in heart’s own shape,
Time-worn by wind, by years’ escape;
We lift it up, we clear its face,
To hold it close in love’s embrace.

A token of Christ’s Love so deep,
A gift our weary souls may keep;
Through winding years, through joy and pain,
Its silent warmth doth still remain.

In that dear love, our lives are changed,
No longer distant, lost, estranged;
For every soul we come to see
As held in sacred dignity.

Our human bonds grow every day,
With depth from God's own loving way;
A quiet grace in all we share,
With sense of God’s own Presence there.

In fellowship our hearts unite,
Drawn onward by His gentle Light;
A living Church, 'mid joy and strife,
Made one within His hidden Life.

And when at last life’s course is run,
When fading falls the setting sun,
We cross the line no eyes can see,
Into love’s vast eternity -

No fear shall claim the final breath,
For He is Lord of life and death;
Companion, Saviour, ever near,
The One we love now drawing near.

Poem inspired by article "Our living with God" by GMA Jansen (Fr Norbert OP)

https://sahistory.org.za/sites/default/files/archive-files4/PvJan67.pdf

With thanks to sahistory.org.za

FROM STORM TO SACRAMENT: SONG OF ST NORBERT

Norbert of Xanten once laughed where courtiers dine,
In halls of ease and cups of wine;
A carefree heart, a life of light,
Untroubled days and festal night.

Yet through the sky a storm was hurled,
A flash that split his gentle world;
Cast to the earth, his soul laid bare,
He met our God in trembling prayer.

Like Paul was struck on Damascus road,
Norbert rose beneath a different load;
No longer seeking passing flame,
But Christ the Lord the Living Name.

From courtly song to sacred plea,
He walked in holy poverty;
His voice now burned with truth made bright,
A shepherd calling souls to light.

O Eucharist, his heart’s deep fire,
His soul’s delight, his one desire!
No distant sign, no shadowed grace,
But Christ Himself in time and space.

He preached, he taught, with fervent breath,
Of Love that conquers sin and death;
At every Mass, with reverent art,
He placed the Lord before each heart.

In Premonstratensian Order’s holy band,
He formed a faithful, fervent stand;
To live, to serve, to kneel, adore -
And draw from Christ an endless store.

O soul, behold the altar fair,
The King of Glory hidden there;
Let not thy gaze grow dim, routine -
For Love Divine lies veiled, unseen.

Come, let Christ enter, still and true,
To touch thy heart and make thee new;
To turn thy fear, thy grief, thy night,
Into a flame of golden light.

From inner heart where silence grows,
Where secret grace in stillness flows,
Go forth into the market’s cry,
Beneath the wide and watchful sky.

And carry there, in word and deed,
The Eucharistic Love we need;
That every soul we meet may see
Christ’s living Presence, shining free.

O Norbert, guide our hearts today,
To love the Lord in hidden way;
Till all we are and all we do
Proclaim: Beloved, He is true.

Image courtesy of ChatGPT with CN Whittle "St Norbert celebrating Mass in Gothic church" 

THE CASTLE AND THE FRIEND

In cloistered halls of stone and prayer,
A soul arose with vision rare;
Teresa of Avila, with fervent flame,
Softly came the world to claim.

Not sword nor crown her path defined,
But depths unveiled within the mind;
For there she saw, with mystic eye,
A castle where the soul draws nigh.

A shining keep of crystal light,
With many rooms both dark and bright;
And in its heart, beyond all strife,
Dwells Jesus Christ, the source of life.

She called us in from restless days,
From scattered thoughts and anxious ways;
“To enter in,” her voice still pleads,
“And tend with care your soul’s deep needs.”

For though the world may roar and shake,
And trials rise for faith to break,
She knew the storms, she felt the strain,
Yet clung to Christ through every pain.

Through illness, doubt, and piercing night,
She walked by faith and not by sight;
In her weakness, frail yet true,
God’s strength like hidden fire grew.

“Pray, trust, and learn,” her counsel rings,
“Accept the cross that each day brings;
But more than all, hold fast this art - 
Be Christ’s dear friend with all your heart.”

Not distant Lord nor shadowed King,
But One to whom our souls may cling;
A Friend who walks the narrow way,
Who lights our path from day to day.

So when our burdens weigh us low,
Our tears like silent rivers flow,
Remember her, who walked before,
And found in Christ a boundless store.

The castle waits, its doors unsealed,
Its hidden chambers yet revealed;
Go inward now, with courage bright -
To meet your Friend in living Light.

Image courtesy of ChatGPT with CN Whittle "St Teresa before the radiant castle" 

MATER POPULI FIDELIS: - AT THE FOOT OF THE CROSS WE REMAIN

 

At the foot of the Cross we remain

In quiet pews where candles softly burn,
The faithful read, hearts within them turn;
A title loved, once spoken without blame,
Now questioned with a sense of shame.

“O Mother dear,” their whispered prayers rise,
“Have we then loved thee wrongly in God's Eyes?”
Yet still they see thee standing, steadfast, near,
Beneath the cross, where redemption conquered fear.

There with Jesus Christ in agony and grace,
Saint John beside thee in that hallowed place,
Thou wast given as Mother, tender, true -
“Behold thy son” - and we were given too.

Through centuries thy children learned thy name,
In love, not pride, in reverence, not shame;
Not equal thou, but closest to His side,
A Mother’s heart where sacrifice abide.

Those who toil where burning sun beats down,
Who bear the Cross in field, in street, in town,
Still pray with thee, their patroness and guide,
At Calvary’s foot; where redemption doth abide.

O can they now from such devotion part,
When it has shaped the rhythm of the heart?
When popes and prayers and ages long have sown
This filial love the faithful call their own?

Though language trembles, shifts, or bends,
Deeper truth no passing voice suspends:
That thou, O Mother, in thy hidden way,
Dost lead thy children still, from day to day.

For where else shall thy weary children go,
Who learned thy love through centuries of woe?
The cross remains, its shadow ever wide -
Thou art there, still standing at His side.

Image courtesy of Chatgpt with CN Whittle "At the foot of the Cross"