May 14, 2008

Faith Is The Pierless Bridge

Faith -- is the Pierless Bridge
Supporting what We see
Unto the Scene that We do not --
Too slender for the eye

It bears the Soul as bold
As it were rocked in Steel
With Arms of Steel at either side --
It joins -- behind the Veil

To what, could We presume
The Bridge would cease to be
To Our far, vacillating Feet
A first Necessity.

By Emily Dickinson

I first heard this poem on an episode on Joan of Arcadia, my favorite show of all time. Evidently, so did several other people. I also learned in this episode that many of Emily Dickinson's poems can be sung to the tune of Yellow Rose of Texas, this one included.

I miss Jane.

March 20, 2008

The year's at the spring

And day's at the morn;

Morning's at seven;

The hillside's dew-pearled;

The lark's on the wing;

The snail's on the thorn;

God's in His heaven -

All's right with the world!

~Robert Browning

We made it! It's here! Welcome, Sweet Springtime!

Yesterday it rained most of the day and for a few minutes we were under a Tornado Warning. Now, we have dropped back down into the thirties. But! Today is the first day of spring! So, as e.e. cummings would say, "The world is mud-luscious and puddle-wonderful."

A couple of pix for the occasion. Both have been on the blog before.

Last year's daffodils.

Iris. The first pix I ever posted on the blog.

I no longer have these irises, but I do have lots of pix of them. They were destroyed when we built the garage. *big, heavy sigh*

Our Garden's Furry Little Train

Fuzzy, wuzzy, creepy crawly

Caterpillar funny

You will be a butterfly
When the days are sunny.

Wiggling, flinging, dancing, springing
Butterfly so yellow,
You were once a caterpillar,
Wriggly, wiggly, fellow.

by Lillian Vabada

Happy Birthday Dear Firstborn Son!

I cannot believe you are 22! Where did you go? While hunting through pix to post on the blog for your birthday, I came across this little poem that I had clipped from the newspaper just after you were born.

Your smile flits across his lips

While mine lights up his eyes;

His is like both of us,

A happy compromise

He is all himself,

And yet, the best of you and me;

In our little son I see

The one that two can be.

by Marian McPhee

I love you! Happy Birthday!

The Red Sea

When the Children of Israel crossed the sea,
It comforts my heart to know
That there must have been timorous ones
Who faltered and feared to go;

Feared the ribbon of road which stretched
Ahead like a narrow track,
With the waves piled high on either side,
And nothing to hold them back.­

Nothing to hold them back but a Hand
They could neither see nor feel;
Their God seemed distant and far away,
And only the peril real.

Yet the fearful ones were as safe as the brave,
For the mercy of God is wide.
Craven, and fearless,He led them all
Dry shod to the other side.

And I think of the needless terror and pain
We bring, to our own Red Sea.
Strengthen Thy timorous ones, dear Lord,
And help us to trust in Thee!
Martha Snell Nicholson.

Sometimes I Do Not Even Pray In Words

Sometimes I do not even pray in words,
I take my heart in my two hands
And hold it up before the Lord,
I'm so glad He understands.

Sometimes I do not even pray in words,
My spirit bows before His feet,
And with His hand upon my head
We just hold communion, silent, sweet.

Sometimes I do not pray in words,
For I am tired and long for rest,
And my heart finds all it needs
Just resting on the Savior's gentle breast.
By Martha Snell-Nicholson

The Pleasures of Ordinary Life

I've had my share of necessary losses,
Of dreams I know no longer can come true.
I'm done now with the whys and the becauses.
It's time to make things good, not just make do.
It's time to stop complaining and pursue
The pleasures of an ordinary life.

I used to rail against my compromises.
I yearned for the wild music, the swift race.
But happiness arrived in new disguises:
Sun lighting a child's hair. A friend's embrace.
Slow dancing in a safe and quiet place.
The pleasures of an ordinary life.

I'll have no trumpets, triumphs, trails of glory.
It seems the woman I've turned out to be
Is not the heroine of some grand story.
But I have learned to find the poetry
In what my hands can touch, my eyes can see.
The pleasures of an ordinary life.

Young fantasies of magic and of mystery
Are over. But they really can't compete
With all we've built together: A long history.
Connections that help render us complete.
Ties that hold and heal us. And the sweet,
Sweet pleasures of an ordinary life.

Judith Viorst

Something Told The Wild Geese

Something told the wild geese
It was time to go.

Though the fields lay golden
Something whispered,--"Snow."

Leaves were green and stirring,
Berries, luster-glossed,

But beneath warm feathers
Something cautioned,--"Frost."

All the sagging orchards
Steamed with amber spice,

But each wild breast stiffened
At remembered ice.

Something told the wild geese
It was time to fly,--

Summer sun was on their wings,
Winter in their cry.

by Rachel Field

Treasures

One by one He took them from me,
All the things I valued most,
Until I was empty-handed;
Every glittering toy was lost.

And I walked earth's highways, grieving.
In my rags and poverty.
Till I heard His voice inviting,
"Lift your empty hands to Me!"

So I held my hands toward heaven,
And He filled them with a store
Of His own transcendent riches,
Till they could contain no more.

And at last I comprehended
With my stupid mind and dull,
That God COULD not pour His riches
Into hands already full!

Martha Snell Nicholson

My Advocate

I sinned. And straightway, post-haste, Satan flew
Before the presence of the most high God,
And made a railing accusation there.
He said, "This soul, this thing of clay and sod,
Has sinned. 'Tis true that he has named Thy name,
But I demand his death, for Thou hast said,
'The soul that sinneth, it shall die.'
Shall not Thy sentence be fulfilled?
Is justice dead?
Send now this wretched sinner to his doom.
What other thing can righteous ruler do?"
And thus he did accuse me day and night,
And every word he spoke, O God, was true!

Then quickly One rose up from God's right hand,
Before Whose glory angels veiled their eyes.
He spoke, "Each jot and tittle of the law
Must be fulfilled; the guilty sinner dies!
But wait -- suppose his guilt were all transferred
To Me, and that I paid his penalty!
Behold My hands, My side, My feet! One day
I was made sin for him, and died that he
Might be presented, faultless, at Thy throne!"
And Satan flew away. Full well he knew
That he could not prevail against such love,
For every word my dear Lord spoke was true!

Author: Martha Snell Nicholson

The Thorn

I stood a mendicant of God before His royal throne
And begged him for one priceless gift, which I could call my own.
I took the gift from out His hand, but as I would depart I cried,
“But Lord this is a thorn and it has pierced my heart.
This is a strange, a hurtful gift, which Thou hast given me.”
He said, “My child, I give good gifts and gave My best to thee.”
I took it home and though at first the cruel thorn hurt sore,
As long years passed I learned at last to love it more and more.
I learned He never gives a thorn without this added grace,
He takes the thorn to pin aside the veil which hides His face.

author: Martha Snell Nicholson

Give My Soul A Heavenly Hush

Let me tarry as I go;
if not my feet, my heart be slow.
As I run from rush to rush
give my soul a heavenly hush-
That I may touch instead of shove,
that I may see those needing love.
In passing may I leave a glow;
of kindly words that help peace grow.
Author: Gail McCoig Blanton