Tuesday, April 13, 2010

Impermanence



ONCE in Persia ruled a king
Who upon his signet ring
‘Graved a motto true and wise,
Which, when held before his eyes,
Gave him counsel at a glance
Fit for any change or chance.
Solemn words, and these were they:
“Even this shall pass away.”

Trains of camel through the sand
Brought him gems from Samarkand;
Fleets of galleys through the seas
Brought him pearls to rival these.
Yet he counted little gain
Treasures of the mine or main.
“Wealth may come, but not to stay;
Even this shall pass away.”


‘Mid the revels of his court,
In the zenith of his sport,
When the palms of all his guests,
Burned with clapping at his jests,
He, amid his figs and wine,
Cried: “Oh, precious friends of mine,
Pleasure comes, but not to stay —
Even this shall pass away.”


Lady, fairest ever seen,
Was the bride he crowned his queen.
Pillowed on his marriage bed
Softly to his soul he said:
“Though no bridegroom ever pressed
Fairer bosom to his breast,
Mortal flesh must come to clay —
Even this shall pass away.”

Fighting in a furious field,
Once a javelin pierced his shield,
Soldiers with a loud lament
Bore him bleeding to his tent.
Groaning, from his wounded side,
“Pain is hard to bear,” he cried.
“But, with patience, day by day,
Even this shall pass away.”

Towering in the public square,
Twenty cubits in the air,
Rose his status grand in stone;
And the king, disguised, unknown,
Gazing on his sculptured name,
Asked himself: “And what is fame?
Fame is but a slow decay —
Even this shall pass away.”

Struck with palsy, sere and old,
Standing at the gates of gold,
Spake him this, in dying breath:
“Life is done, and what is death?”
Then, in answer to the king,
Fell a sunbeam on the ring,
Answering, with its heavenly ray:
“Even death shall pass away.”

HT: Punna

Saturday, April 3, 2010

Stations of the Cross (15)


JESUS IS RISEN

Where is my Lord?
They have taken Him away.
All I see is a tomb, a place that is empty.
And just when I need Him,
and long for His voice,
even His body would not wait for my tears.

Shut away in a box, He has occupied their coffin.
Shut away in a book, He fulfils, Living Word.
Shut away in our concepts, He shatters such shackles.
No prison can hold Him; no tomb thwart the miracle.
His life is our liberty; His love changed my life.
No dying can rob me of what He has given:
once blind, now I see.
Hallelujah! His promise:
‘In the day when the hearts of men
fail them for fear, then look up, little flock,
your redemption draws near.’

Let all creation
give thanks to the Risen Lord.
Give thanks to the Risen Lord!

Filled with His praises,
give thanks to the Risen Lord.
Give thanks to the Risen Lord!

He is our Shepherd, and we are His sheep.
Give thanks to the Risen Lord.
Give thanks to the Risen Lord!

Stepping out boldly, we claim resurrection.
Give thanks to the Risen Lord.
Give thanks to the Risen Lord!


Friday, April 2, 2010

Stations of the Cross (14)


JESUS IS LAID IN THE SEPULCHRE

Laid in a borrowed tomb, awaiting the sign of Jonah
- the only sign that would be given to His generation
- that after three days and nights in the womb of the earth,
the belly of the fish, the grave and hell,
He would come forth to do His Father’s will
- Jesus the humble Son of God, the exultant Son of Man,
the eternal contradiction, the Blessed One.
The end is not yet. Weeping endures for a night,
but joy comes in the morning.
The good news – ‘He is risen’ –
will burst on the Son-rise.

Therefore with joy shall we draw water
out of the wells of salvation.

When all is dark,
and Hope is buried,
it is hard to trust His words
that promised, before the pain:
He died that I might live.
He died that I might live.

In His death is my birth.
He died that I might live.
He died that I might live.

In His life is my life.
He died that I might live.
He died that I might live.

My Jesus! He died that I might live.
He died that I might live.


Thursday, April 1, 2010

Stations of the Cross (13)


JESUS IS TAKEN FROM THE CROSS

Jesus could now feel the chill of death creeping through His tissues. And with a loud voice He cried: ‘It is finished.’ His mission of atonement had been completed. Finally, He could allow His body to die. With one last surge of strength, He once again pressed His torn feet against the nail, straightened His legs, took a deeper breath, and uttered His seventh and last cry: ‘Father, into Thy hands I commit My spirit.’ A while later, the soldier pierced a long spear into the side of the dead man, to His heart. The watery fluid and blood that flowed out show us He had literally died of a broken heart – not the usual crucifixion death of suffocation. The friends of Jesus were allowed to remove His holy body, and for a moment his mother held Him again upon her lap, cradled in her arms.

Let Him sleep now. It is finished.

See from His head, His hands, His feet,
sorrow and love flow mingled down!
Did e’er such love and sorrow meet?
or thorns compose so rich a crown?
It was for me.
It was for me.


Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast
save in the death of Christ my God.
All the vain things that charmed me most,
I sacrifice them to His blood:
It was for me.
It was for me.