445 Religion poems

The ribbed black of the umbrella is an argument for the existence of God, that little shelter we carry with us and may forget beside a chair in a committee meeting we did not especially want to attend. What a beautiful word, umbrella. A shade to be opened. Like a bat’s wing, scalloped. It shivers. A drum head beaten by the silver sticks of rain and I do not have mine and so the rain showers me.

In dogma is the secret that renders God unconditioned, on one condition. “If you are not My people, I am not your God.” As fashioned by His people's witness, a made thing, God, condemns the made things graven images are. Inscribed as born wittingly of Himself, God is (so to speak) that Father abler than the most sovereign earthly father to make all things good. God the Father is conceived as for us. Purposive, stewarding, benign, He covenants our living on. “Written in continuance” in His Book before they took form were the parts of our fitful bodies. As if what's given with the world is life only, life, and not (along with it, in time) at last, life's needful withdrawal, God's said to let the truthful keep their lives forever if they swear God does what He says. These are the portions: either I'll outlast death or it me. Little matter which if it's the avowed God I'm given up to. That I'm settled in the finite is what's true instead. Living is a good I don't want stopped even for the saved. I'm beholden to it all the way that, in its one chance each with me and others, death hasn't used itself up yet. Mine affords me another day hours before it's light. Along with the caused things outside that I can't see, I'm here ahead of myself again toward that coupling with the ground when “I am poured out like water.” Death's still to be heard from at its least reserved. Under its breath it primes me to pay up and look pleasant.

One, who is not, we see: but one, whom we see not, is: Surely this is not that: but that is assuredly this. What, and wherefore, and whence? for under is over and under: If thunder could be without lightning, lightning could be without thunder. Doubt is faith in the main: but faith, on the whole, is doubt: We cannot believe by proof: but could we believe without? Why, and whither, and how? for barley and rye are not clover: Neither are straight lines curves: yet over is under and over. Two and two may be four: but four and four are not eight: Fate and God may be twain: but God is the same thing as fate. Ask a man what he thinks, and get from a man what he feels: God, once caught in the fact, shows you a fair pair of heels. Body and spirit are twins: God only knows which is which: The soul squats down in the flesh, like a tinker drunk in a ditch. More is the whole than a part: but half is more than the whole: Clearly, the soul is the body: but is not the body the soul? One and two are not one: but one and nothing is two: Truth can hardly be false, if falsehood cannot be true. Once the mastodon was: pterodactyls were common as cocks: Then the mammoth was God: now is He a prize ox. Parallels all things are: yet many of these are askew: You are certainly I: but certainly I am not you. Springs the rock from the plain, shoots the stream from the rock: Cocks exist for the hen: but hens exist for the cock. God, whom we see not, is: and God, who is not, we see: Fiddle, we know, is diddle: and diddle, we take it, is dee.

The sun, the moon, the stars, the seas, the hills and the plains,- Are not these, O Soul, the Vision of Him who reigns? Is not the Vision He, tho' He be not that which He seems? Dreams are true while they last, and do we not live in dreams? Earth, these solid stars, this weight of body and limb, Are they not sign and symbol of thy division from Him? Dark is the world to thee; thyself art the reason why, For is He not all but thou, that hast power to feel "I am I"? Glory about thee, without thee; and thou fulfillest thy doom, Making Him broken gleams and a stifled splendour and gloom. Speak to Him, thou, for He hears, and Spirit with Spirit can meet- Closer is He than breathing, and nearer than hands and feet. God is law, say the wise; O soul, and let us rejoice, For if He thunder by law the thunder is yet His voice. Law is God, say some; no God at all, says the fool, For all we have power to see is a straight staff bent in a pool; And the ear of man cannot hear, and the eye of man cannot see; But if we could see and hear, this Vision-were it not He?

For those my unbaptized rhymes, Writ in my wild unhallowed times, For every sentence, clause, and word, That's not inlaid with Thee, my Lord, Forgive me, God, and blot each line Out of my book, that is not Thine. But if, 'mongst all, Thou find'st here one Worthy thy benediction, That one of all the rest shall be The glory of my work, and me.

When I a verse shall make, Know I have pray'd thee, For old religion's sake, Saint Ben to aid me. Make the way smooth for me, When I, thy Herrick, Honouring thee, on my knee Offer my lyric. Candles I'll give to thee, And a new altar, And thou, Saint Ben, shalt be Writ in my psalter.

His sovereignty is o’er my gathered throng; His glory is my faith within, I seek Him for atonement of my sin— This day of fasting to forgive the wrong: And He will answer, He will say, “Forgiven.” Holy—and mighty in His chamber o’er the skies; Holy—in penitence alone His pardon lies; Holy—the secret of His Law He tells His own Holy—for all His sheep rejoicing to atone; Holy—He pardoneth His faithful one that pleads; Holy—and all His people praise His mighty deeds; Holy—His faithful one remembering in His love; Holy—He loves the soul’s affliction of His dove. Holy—on those unclean His cleansing waters flow; Holy—His people’s sin He maketh white as snow. Holy—yea, Israel of their error maketh clear; Holy—He sets apart one day in all the year; Holy—He pardons them whose longing turns to Him. Holy—above the highest heights He standeth dim; Holy—and He is good to those who bear His fear; Holy—forgiving sin His wrath will not appear; Holy—by righteousness He drives transgressions hence; Holy—He holds this day of fast for penitence. Holy—He gently leads to Him His holy one; Holy—thus merciful beside Him there is none; Holy—’mid clouds abiding where His dwelling lies: Holy—and angels tell His glory through the skies. His sovereignty is o’er my gathered throng; His glory is my faith within. I seek Him for atonement of my sin— This day of fasting to forgive the wrong: And He will answer, He will say, “Forgiven.”

I would to God, that mine old age might have Before my last, but here a living grave; Some one poor almshouse, there to lie, or stir, Ghost-like, as in my meaner sepulchre; A little piggin, and a pipkin by, To hold things fitting my necessity, Which, rightly us'd, both in their time and place, Might me excite to fore, and after, grace. Thy cross, my Christ, fix'd 'fore mine eyes should be, Not to adore that, but to worship Thee. So here the remnant of my days I'd spend, Reading Thy bible, and my book; so end.

I threaten'd to observe the strict decree Of my dear God with all my power and might; But I was told by one it could not be; Yet I might trust in God to be my light. "Then will I trust," said I, "in Him alone." "Nay, e'en to trust in Him was also His: We must confess that nothing is our own." "Then I confess that He my succour is." "But to have nought is ours, not to confess That we have nought." I stood amaz'd at this, Much troubled, till I heard a friend express That all things were more ours by being His; What Adam had, and forfeited for all, Christ keepeth now, who cannot fail or fall.

Thou hast made me, and shall thy work decay? Repair me now, for now mine end doth haste, I run to death, and death meets me as fast, And all my pleasures are like yesterday; I dare not move my dim eyes any way, Despair behind, and death before doth cast Such terror, and my feebled flesh doth waste By sin in it, which it towards hell doth weigh. Only thou art above, and when towards thee By thy leave I can look, I rise again; But our old subtle foe so tempteth me, That not one hour I can myself sustain; Thy grace may wing me to prevent his art, And thou like adamant draw mine iron heart.