Prayer for Discernment

Almighty, loving God,
We know that You are always near us:
let us turn to You and walk beside You this day.
Let us place our hands in yours,
and remember that You are our shelter, our shepherd, and our strength.
Help us not just to speak but to listen
as we seek to do your will.
Make us seekers of Wisdom by the power of your Holy Spirit,
that we may be true disciples of your Son Jesus Christ.
We thank You for this time together,
for fellowship, for guidance,
as we seek always to grow deeper in your Love.
Let all we do be done to build your kingdom,
O God, our Hope and our Help.

Amen.

The Weighing

The heart’s reasons
seen clearly,
even the hardest
will carry
its whip-marks and sadness
and must be forgiven.

As the drought-starved
eland forgives
the drought-starved lion
who finally takes her,
enters willingly then
the life she cannot refuse,
and is lion, is fed,
and does not remember the other.

So few grains of happiness
measured against all the dark
and still the scales balance.

The world asks of us
only the strength we have and we give it.
Then it asks more, and we give it.

-- Jane Hirshfield (1953- ), American, from The October Palace, 1994

Lion and eland face off, from Africa Geographic.

Blessing for the days ahead

Go with confidence into the days ahead,
trusting in God's unfailing love and faithfulness.
God will not abandon you, for you are the
work of His hands-- his own creation-- and
His love endures forever.
So go in joy to love and serve the Lord!

-- the Northumbria Coomunity, in Celtic Daily Prayer, Book Two: Farther Up and Farther In

Photo: The Rose Window at All Saints' Chapel, Sewanee.

Prayer for Equanimity

Lord Jesus Christ, you know what it is like to be human, yet you managed not to let pride and anger get the better of you: you were not greedy for power or praise. Touch our hearts with your Spirit, so that we may be like you. Give us grace that we may show grace inall our dealings. May al that you came to begin on Earth be fulfilled.

Amen.

-- Caryl Micklem and Roger Tomes, Prayer 122 from Contemporary Prayers for Church and School, 1975

An Altogether Different Language

There was a church in Umbria, Little Portion,
Already old eight hundred years ago.
It was abandoned and in disrepair
But it was called St. Mary of the Angels
For it was known to be the haunt of angels,
Often at night the country people
Could hear them singing there.

What was it like, to listen to the angels,
To hear those mountain-fresh, those simple voices
Poured out on the bare stones of Little Portion
In hymns of joy? No one has told us.
Perhaps it needs another language
That we have still to learn,
An altogether different language.

--Anne Porter (1911-2011), from An Altogether Different Language (1994)



Image: Santa Maria delle Trosce, Vernazzano, Umbria, Italy.

Who Has Seen the Wind?

Who has seen the wind?
Neither I nor you:
But when the leaves hang trembling,
The wind is passing through.

Who has seen the wind?
Neither you nor I:
But when the trees bow down their heads,
The wind is passing by.

-- Christina Rosetti (1830-1894), English poet and supporter of the Oxford Movement

The Worship of the Universe

Whose ear has ever heard how all trees sing to God? Has our reason ever thought of calling upon the sun to praise the Lord? And yet, what the ear fails to perceive, what reason fails to conceive, our prayer makes clear to our souls. It is a higher truth, to be grasped by the spirit: ‘All Thy works praise Thee’ (Psalm 145:10). We are not alone in our acts of praise. Wherever there is life, there is silent worship. The world is always on the verge of becoming one in adoration. It is man who is the cantor of the universe, and in whose life the secret of cosmic prayer is disclosed.”

--Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel, Man’s Quest for God, 82

Break, break, break

Break, break, break,
     On thy cold gray stones, O sea!
And I would that my tongue could utter
     The thoughts that arise in me.

O, well for the fisherman’s boy,
     That he shouts with his sister at play!
O, well for the sailor lad,
     That he sings in his boat on the bay!

And the stately ships go on
     To their haven under the hill;
But O for the touch of a vanished hand,
     And the sound of a voice that is still!

Break, break, break,
     At the foot of thy crags, O sea!
But the tender grace of a day that is dead
     Will never come back to me.

--Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809-1892), English poet and poet laureate, 1842

Waves crash on the beach in Manuel Antonio National Park, Costa Rica.

Collect of Reconciliation

God of hope, you call us from the exile of our sin
with the good news of restoration;
you build a highway through the wilderness;
you come to us to bring us home.
Comfort us with the expectation of your saving power,
made known in Jesus Christ our Lord.

Amen.

-- Revised Common Lectionary Prayers, alt., proposed by the Consultation on Common Texts, 2002 p. 31, from Daily Prayer for All Seasons by the Office of the General Convention of the Episcopal Church, 2014

Dharma

The way the dog trots out the front door
every morning
without a hat or an umbrella,
without any money
or the keys to her doghouse
never fails to fill the saucer of my heart
with milky admiration.

Who provides a finer example
of a life without encumbrance-
Thoreau in his curtainless hut
with a single plate, a single spoon?
Gandhi with his staff and his holy diapers?

Off she goes into the material world
with nothing but her brown coat
and her modest blue collar,
following only her wet nose,
the twin portals of her steady breathing,
followed only by the plume of her tail.

If only she did not shove the cat aside
every morning
and eat all his food
what a model of self-containment she
would be,
what a paragon of earthly detachment.
If only she were not so eager
for a rub behind the ears,
so acrobatic in her welcomes,
if only I were not her god.

--Billy Collins (1941- ), US poet laureate 2001-2003



Photo: My friends' dog Pumpkin, summer 2017, who can play ball for hours. Detachment, my eye.

Prayer Before Surgery

Loving One, we entrust _____ to your care this day: guide with wisdom the skills and hands of the medical people who minister in your Name, and grant that every cause of illness be removed, that she may be restored to soundness of health and learn to live in more perfect harmony with you and those around her.
Through Jesus Christ. AMEN

--from Catholic Online

Blessing from wisdom's house

May Wisdom's long-lasting blessings be upon me.
Keep me from short-sightedness and the ease of the crowded road.
For narrow is the way and full is the heart on the path of Your blessing.
Keep me on that path as I lie down at night.
Keep me on that path as I set our again by day.

--Tess Ward, in Celtic Daily Prayer, Book Two: Farther Up and Farther In by the Northumbria Community

Prayer for Earth Day

Creator of the Universe,
who is making Heaven and Earth,
let all that lives tell out your glory.
Rocks and hills,
ocean depths and craggy peaks,
the wind that caresses them,
all join to sing out your Holy Name.

You planted your holy song, O Lord,
in laughing brook and rambling river
fed by rain before time.
Murmuring grass and field of wheat
whisper "Alleluia!"
as the beauty of the Lord passes by.
Thunder and rain, summer sun and shadow
work together with soil and seed
to prepare a table in the wilderness by your will.
The works of your Hand, O Mighty One,
testify to your steadfast kindness and mercy:
You crown all you see as good.

Forgive us for our trespasses against each other,
and against the Earth, our mother,
for seeking to hoard her riches
and denying her integrity.
May we walk gently upon this Earth,
that bears us like a chariot through space,
upheld by your wondrous Love.
May we care for all creation,
being dedicated and blessed by You,
called to serve its renewal and guard its unity.

By the power of the Holy Spirit,
that moved over the waters of creation,
renew and recreate in us
a reverence for the Earth and all her inhabitants.
Lord Christ, center us in your wisdom,
and pour out your healing
over all we remember before You.

Amen.

--Leslie Scoopmire, written on April 22, 2017.

blessing the boats

(at St. Mary's)

may the tide
that is entering even now
the lip of our understanding
carry you out
beyond the face of fear
may you kiss
the wind then turn from it
certain that it will
love your back may you
open your eyes to water
water waving forever
and may you in your innocence
sail through this to that

-- Lucille Clifton (1936-2010)


Photo: Fishing boats at anchor, Havana Harbor, Cuba, 2017.

Psalm 65

To You, silence is praise, O God in Zion,
and to You vows are paid. O You who hear prayer,
before You all flesh comes. Misdeeds—
they are stronger than I am; our transgressions—
You are the one who makes atonement.

Privileged are those whom You choose and draw near
to dwell in Your courts.
May we be satisfied with the goodness of Your house,
Your holy temple.
With awesome works, in righteousness, You answer us,
O God of our salvation,
the Confidence of all the ends of the earth,
and the furthest reaches of the sea.

He sets firm the mountains in his strength;
He is girded with might.
He silences the roar of the seas, the roar of their waves,
and the din of the nations.

Those who inhabit the ends of the earth
feel reverent-fear at your signs;
the reaches of morning and evening,
You make them ring with joy.

You visit the earth and water it;
You abundantly enrich it—
God’s stream, full of water.
You set their grain—yes, You set it just so.
Drenching its furrows, settling its hillocks,
You soften it with showers; its growth You bless.
You have crowned the year with Your goodness,
and Your wagon-tracks drip richness.

The pastures of the wilderness are dripping,
and the hills are girdled with rejoicing.
The meadows are clothed with the flocks,
and the valleys robed with grain.
They shout out; they even sing.

-- translated by Ellen Davis, American Biblical scholar, professor, and agrarian

Welcome Morning

There is joy
in all:
in the hair I brush each morning,
in the Cannon towel, newly washed,
that I rub my body with each morning,
in the chapel of eggs I cook
each morning,
in the outcry from the kettle
that heats my coffee
each morning,
in the spoon and the chair
that cry, "hello there, Anne"
each morning,
in the godhead of the table
that I set my silver, plate, cup upon
each morning.

All this is God,
right here in my pea-green house
each morning
and I mean,
though often forget,
to give thanks,
to faint down by the kitchen table
in a prayer of rejoicing
as the holy birds of the kitchen window
peck into their marriage of seeds.

So while I think of it,
let me paint a thank-you on my palm
for this God, this laughter of the morning,
lest it go unspoken.

The Joy that isn't shared, I've heard,
dies young.

--Anne Sexton (1928-1974) from The Awful Rowing Toward God, 1975

Psalm

I will do all I can to be worthy of Thee O Lord.
It all has to do with it.
Thank you God.
Peace.
There is none other.
God is. It is so beautiful.
Thank you God. God is all.
Help us to resolve our fears and weaknesses.
Thank you God.
In You all things are possible.
We know. God made us so.
Keep your eye on God.
God is. He always was. He always will be.
No matter what…it is God.
He is gracious and merciful.
It is most important that I know Thee.
Words, sounds, speech, men, memory, thoughts,
fears and emotions – time – all related …
all made from one … all made in one.
Blessed be His name.
Thought waves – heat waves-all vibrations –
all paths lead to God. Thank you God.

His way … it is so lovely … it is gracious.
It is merciful – thank you God.
One thought can produce millions of vibrations
and they all go back to God … everything does.
Thank you God.
Have no fear … believe … thank you God.
The universe has many wonders. God is all. His way … it is so wonderful.
Thoughts – deeds – vibrations, etc.
They all go back to God and He cleanses all.
He is gracious and merciful…thank you God.
Glory to God … God is so alive.
God is.
God loves.
May I be acceptable in Thy sight.
We are all one in His grace.
The fact that we do exist is acknowledgement of Thee O Lord.
Thank you God.
God will wash away all our tears …
He always has …
He always will.
Seek Him everyday. In all ways seek God everyday.
Let us sing all songs to God
To whom all praise is due … praise God.
No road is an easy one, but they all
go back to God.
With all we share God.
It is all with God.
It is all with Thee.
Obey the Lord.
Blessed is He.
We are from one thing … the will of God … thank you God.
I have seen God – I have seen ungodly –
none can be greater – none can compare to God.
Thank you God.
He will remake us … He always has and He always will.
It is true – blessed be His name – thank you God.
God breathes through us so completely …
so gently we hardly feel it … yet,
it is our everything.
Thank you God.
ELATION-ELEGANCE-EXALTATION
All from God.
Thank you God. Amen.

--John Coltrane, American jazz musician and composer, from A Love Supreme, 1964

Hope Is the Thing With Feathers (254)

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I’ve heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

-- Emily Dickinson (1830-1886), American poet

Sonnet 18: Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest:
     So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
     So long lives this and this gives life to thee.

--William Shakespeare (1564-1616)

The quality of mercy is not strain'd

“The quality of mercy is not strain'd,

It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven

Upon the place beneath: it is twice blest;

It blesseth him that gives and him that takes:

'Tis mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes

The throned monarch better than his crown;

His sceptre shows the force of temporal power,

The attribute to awe and majesty,

Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings;

But mercy is above this sceptred sway;

It is enthroned in the hearts of kings,

It is an attribute to God himself;

And earthly power doth then show likest God's

When mercy seasons justice.”

--William Shakespeare (1564-1616), The Merchant of Venice, Act IV, scene 1

To a Skylark

    Hail to thee, blithe Spirit!
          Bird thou never wert,
     That from heaven, or near it,
          Pourest thy full heart
In profuse strains of unpremeditated art.

     Higher still and higher
          From the earth thou springest
     Like a cloud of fire;
          The blue deep thou wingest,
And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest.

     In the golden lightning
          Of the sunken sun,
     O’er which clouds are bright’ning,
          Thou dost float and run,
Like an unbodied joy whose race is just begun.

     The pale purple even
          Melts around thy flight;
     Like a star of heaven
          In the broad daylight
Thou art unseen, but yet I hear thy shrill delight,

     Keen as are the arrows
          Of that silver sphere
     Whose intense lamp narrows
          In the white dawn clear
Until we hardly see—we feel that it is there.

     All the earth and air
          With thy voice is loud,
     As, when night is bare,
          From one lonely cloud
The moon rains out her beams, and heaven is overflowed.

     What thou art we know not;
          What is most like thee?
     From rainbow clouds there flow not
          Drops so bright to see
As from thy presence showers a rain of melody.

     Like a poet hidden
          In the light of thought,
     Singing hymns unbidden,
          Till the world is wrought
To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not:

     Like a high-born maiden
          In a palace tower,
     Soothing her love-laden
          Soul in secret hour
With music sweet as love, which overflows her bower:

     Like a glow-worm golden
          In a dell of dew,
     Scattering unbeholden
          Its aerial hue
Among the flowers and grass, which screen it from the view:

     Like a rose embowered
          In its own green leaves,
     By warm winds deflowered,
          Till the scent it gives
Makes faint with too much sweet these heavy-winged thieves:

     Sound of vernal showers
          On the twinkling grass,
     Rain-awakened flowers,
          All that ever was
Joyous, and clear, and fresh, thy music doth surpass.

     Teach us, sprite or bird,
          What sweet thoughts are thine:
     I have never heard
          Praise of love or wine
That panted forth a flood of rapture so divine.

     Chorus hymeneal
          Or triumphal chaunt
     Matched with thine would be all
          But an empty vaunt,
A thing wherein we feel there is some hidden want.

     What objects are the fountains
          Of thy happy strain?
     What fields, or waves, or mountains?
          What shapes of sky or plain?
What love of thine own kind? what ignorance of pain?

     With thy clear keen joyance
          Languor cannot be:
     Shadow of annoyance
          Never came near thee:
Thou lovest, but ne’er knew love’s sad satiety.

     Waking or asleep,
          Thou of death must deem
     Things more true and deep
          Than we mortals dream,
Or how could thy notes flow in such a crystal stream?

     We look before and after,
          And pine for what is not:
     Our sincerest laughter
          With some pain is fraught;
Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.

     Yet if we could scorn
          Hate, and pride, and fear;
     If we were things born
          Not to shed a tear,
I know not how thy joy we ever should come near.

     Better than all measures
          Of delightful sound,
     Better than all treasures
          That in books are found,
Thy skill to poet were, thou scorner of the ground!

     Teach me half the gladness
          That thy brain must know,
     Such harmonious madness
          From my lips would flow
The world should listen then, as I am listening now!

--Percy Bysshe Shelley, 1792-1822

Prayer of Commitment

In the true faith may we remain;
in Jesus may we find hope;
against exploitation of the poor may we help;
against our faults may we fight,
our bad habits abandon;
the name of our neighbor may we defend;
in the world of mercy may we advance;
those in misery may we help;
every danger of sin may we avoid;
in holy charity may we grow strong;
in the well of grace of confession may we wash;
may we deserve the help of the saints,
the friendship our brother Cuthbert win.

Amen.

--from Celtic Daily Prayer, Book One: The Journey Begins, from prayers relating to Cuthbert of Northumbria (635-687), p. 301.


Image: illustration from Bede's Life of St. Cuthbert, another monk of Landisfarne who was a missionary to the Picts.

Angelus prayer

V. The Angel of the Lord declared unto Mary,
R. And she conceived of the Holy Spirit.

Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with you.
Blessed are you among women,
and blessed is the fruit of your womb, Jesus.
Holy Mary, Mother of God,
pray for us sinners,
now and at the hour of our death. Amen.

V. Behold the handmaid of the Lord.
R. Be it done unto me according to Your Word.

Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with you.
Blessed are you among women,
and blessed is the fruit of your womb, Jesus.
Holy Mary, Mother of God,
pray for us sinners,
now and at the hour of our death. Amen.

V. And the Word was made flesh,
R. And dwelt among us.

Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with you.
Blessed are you among women,
and blessed is the fruit of your womb, Jesus.
Holy Mary, Mother of God,
pray for us sinners,
now and at the hour of our death. Amen.

V. Pray for us, O holy Mother of God.
R. That we may be made worthy of the promises of Christ.

Let us pray:
Pour forth, we beseech You, O Lord, Your Grace into our hearts;
that as we have known the incarnation of Christ, your Son
by the message of an angel,
so by His passion and cross we may be brought to the glory of His Resurrection.
Through the same Christ, our Lord.
Amen.

Based on Luke 1:26-38

Annunciation, by Romare Bearden, African American.

Annunciation

Annunciation, Trygve Skogrand.

Prayer of Thanksgiving

The world is alive with your goodness, O God,
it grows green from the ground
and ripens into the roundness of fruit.
Its taste and its touch
enliven my body amd stir my soul.
Generously given
profusely displayed
your grsaces of goodness pour forth from the earth.
As I have received
sp free me to give.
As I have been granted
so may I give.

-- J Philip Newell, "Tuesday Morning Prayer", from Celtic Benediction: Morning and Night Prayer

Image: Rocky Valley labyrinth carving, Cornwall.

Conversion account, from "The Everlasting Mercy"

"The water's going out to sea
And there's a great moon calling me;
But there's a great sun calls the moon,
And all God's bells will carol soon
For joy and glory and delight
Of someone coming home to-night."
Out into darkness, out to night,
My flaring heart gave plenty light,
So wild it was there was no knowing
Whether the clouds or stars were blowing;
Blown chimney pots and folk blown blind,
And puddles glimmering in my mind,
And chinking glass from windows banging,
And inn signs swung like people hanging,
And in my heart the drink unpriced,
The burning cataracts of Christ.

I did not think, I did not strive,
The deep peace burnt my me alive;
The bolted door had broken in,
I knew that I had done with sin.
I knew that Christ had given me birth
To brother all the souls on earth,
And every bird and every beast
Should share the crumbs broke at the feast.

O glory of the lighted mind.
How dead I'd been, how dumb, how blind
 The station brook, to my new eyes,
Was babbling out of Paradise,
The waters rushing from the rain
Were singing Christ has risen again.
I thought all earthly creatures knelt
From rapture of the joy I felt.
The narrow station-wall's brick ledge,
The wild hop withering in the hedge,
The lights in huntsmans' upper storey
Were parts of an eternal glory,
Were God's eternal garden flowers.
I stood in bliss at this for hours.

O glory of the lighted soul.
The dawn came up on Bradlow Knoll,
The dawn with glittering on the grasses,
The dawn which pass and never passes.
"It's dawn," I said, "And chimney's smoking,
And all the blessed fields are soaking.'
It's dawn, and there's an engine shunting;
And hounds, for huntsman's going hunting.
It's dawn, and I must wander north
Along the road Christ led me forth."

-- John Masefield (1878-1967), English poet and poet laureate, from "The Everlasting Mercy" (1911)

Song of a Second April

April this year, not otherwise
     Than April of a year ago,
Is full of whispers, full of sighs,
     Of dazzling mud and dingy snow;
     Hepaticas that pleased you so
Are here again, and butterflies.

There rings a hammering all day,
     And shingles lie about the doors;
In orchards near and far away
     The grey wood-pecker taps and bores;
     The men are merry at their chores,
And children earnest at their play.

The larger streams run still and deep,
     Noisy and swift the small brooks run
Among the mullein stalks the sheep
     Go up the hillside in the sun,
     Pensively,—only you are gone,
You that alone I cared to keep.

--Edna St. Vincent Millay (1892-1950), from Second April (1921).