Pentecost Gathering Prayer- Rosetti

O God the Holy Ghost

Who art light unto thine elect
Evermore enlighten us.
Thou who art fire of love
Evermore enkindle us.
Thou who art Lord and Giver of Life,
Evermore live in us.
Thou who bestowest sevenfold grace,
Evermore replenish us.
As the wind is thy symbol,
So forward our goings.
As the dove, so launch us heavenwards.
As water, so purify our spirits.
As a cloud, so abate our temptations.
As dew, so revive our languor.
As fire, so purge our dross.

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

Prayer for the gift of the Holy Spirit

O God, send forth your Holy Spirit 

into my heart that I may perceive, 

into my mind that I may remember, 

and into my soul that I may meditate. 

Inspire me to speak with piety, holiness, tenderness and mercy. 

Teach, guide and direct my thoughts and senses from beginning to end.

May your grace ever help and correct me, 

and may I be strengthened now with wisdom from on high, 

for the sake of your infinite mercy. 

Amen.

--Saint Anthony of Padua (1195-1231), Portuguese priest and Franciscan

Against War

And as we — by our prayers —
vanquish all the demons that stir up war,
and lead to the violation of oaths,
and disturb the peace,
we in this service
are much more helpful to the kings
than those who go into the field
to fight for them.

And we do take our part in public affairs,
when along with righteous prayers,
we practice self-denying disciplines and meditations,
which teach us to despise pleasures,
and not to be lead astray by them.
And none fight better for the king
[and his role of preserving justice]
than we do.
We do not indeed fight under him,
although he demands it;
but we fight on his behalf,
forming a special army of piety
by offering our prayers to God.

--Origen (185–254 AD), Church Father and Theologian, from Against Celsus, Book VIII, Chapter 73, written in verse in Water, Faith and Wood: Stories of the Early Church’s Witness for Today, by Christopher Smith

The Path I Walk

The path I walk, Christ walks it.
May the land in which I am in be without sorrow.
May the Trinity protect me wherever I stay, Father, Son and Holy Spirit.
Bright angels walk with me - dear presence - in every dealing.
In every dealing I pray them that no one's poison may reach me.
The ninefold people of heaven of holy cloud, the tenth force of the stout earth.
Favorable company, they come with me, so that the Lord may not be angry with me.
May I arrive at every place, may I return home; made the way in which I spend be a way without loss.
May every path before me be smooth, may woman and child welcome me.
A truly good journey! Well does the fair Lord show us a course, a path.


-- Attributed to Saint Columba (521-597 CE), Irish missionary and saint, founder of Iona Abbey

God With Me Lying Down

God with me lying down,
God with me rising up,
God with me in each ray of light,
Nor I a ray of joy without Him,
Nor one ray without Him.

Christ with me sleeping,
Christ with me waking,
Christ with me watching,
Every day and night,
Each day and night.

God with me protecting,
The Lord with me directing,
The Spirit with me strengthening,
For ever and for evermore,
Ever and evermore, Amen.
Chief of chiefs, Amen.


--from the Carmina Gadelica, collected by Alexander Carmichael (1832-1912) from the Outer Hebrides in Scotland.

The Divine Image

To Mercy Pity Peace and Love
All Pray in the distress,
And to those virtues of delight
Return their thankfulness.

For Mercy Pity Peace and Love
Is God our father dear,
and Mercy Pity Peace and Love
Is Man his child and care.

For Mercy has a human heart,
Pity, a human face,
And Love, the human form divine,
And Peace, the human dress.

Then every man of every clime
That prays in his distress,
Prays to the human form divine,
Love Mercy Pity Peace.

And all must love the human form
In heathen, turk or jew.
Where Mercy Love & Pity dwell
There God is dwelling too.


--William Blake (1757-1827), Romantic-era mystic, poet, and artist

Ascension

How can you leave your flock,
O holy shepherd,
in this valley deep and dark,
while you break the pure
air, departing to regions immortal and secure?

Those once blessed,
now sad, afflicted,
those nourished at your breast
and now by you dispossessed,
where will they turn their faces?

Can their eyes,
having seen the beauty of your face,
see anything now that does not fret them?
And to ears that heard your sweetness,
is not all else clamor and dullness?

And that swollen sea,
who now shall calm it?
Who tame the burning wind?
With you in eclipse,
what star shall guide the ship to port?

O envious cloud,
do you grudge even our brief delight?
Where do you fly in such haste?
Your departure, so splendid and bright!
But how poor and blind you leave us!

--Fray Luis de Leon (1527-1591) Spanish Augustinian monk, mystic, and poet of Spain’s “Golden Age,” imprisoned for four years during the Spanish Inquisition due to charges from two Dominican professors.

Ascension

Salute the last, and everlasting day,

Joy at the uprising of this Sun, and Son,
Ye whose true tears, or tribulation
Have purely wash’d, or burnt your drossy clay.
Behold, the Highest, parting hence away,
Lightens the dark clouds, which He treads upon;
Nor doth He by ascending show alone,
But first He, and He first enters the way.
O strong Ram, which hast batter’d Heaven for me!
Mild lamb, which with Thy Blood hast mark’d the path!
Bright Torch, which shinest, that I the way may see!
O, with Thy own Blood quench Thy own just wrath;
And if Thy Holy Spirit my Muse did raise,
Deign at my hands this crown of prayer and praise.

-- John Donne (1572-1631) English priest, poet, and essayist

Ascension Day

Why stand ye gazing up into Heaven? this same Jesus, which

is taken up from you into Heaven, shall so come in like
manner as ye have seen Him go into Heaven. Acts i. 11

Soft cloud, that while the breeze of May
Chants her glad matins in the leafy arch,
Draw'st thy bright veil across the heavenly way
Meet pavement for an angel's glorious march:

My soul is envious of mine eye,
That it should soar and glide with thee so fast,
The while my grovelling thoughts half buried lie,
Or lawless roam around this earthly waste.

Chains of my heart, avaunt I say-
I will arise, and in the strength of love
Pursue the bright track ere it fade away,
My Saviour's pathway to His home above.

Sure, when I reach the point where earth
Melts into nothing from th' uncumbered sight,
Heaven will o'ercome th' attraction of my birth.
And I shall sink in yonder sea of light:

Till resting by th' incarnate LORD,
Once bleeding, now triumphant for my sake,
I mark Him, how by seraph hosts adored,
He to earth's lowest cares is still awake.

The sun and every vassal star,
All space, beyond the soar of angel wings,
Wait on His word: and yet He stays His car
For every sigh a contrite suppliant brings.

He listens to the silent tear
For all the anthems of the boundless sky-
And shall our dreams of music bar our ear
To His soul-piercing voice for ever nigh?

Nay, gracious Saviour-but as now
Our thoughts have traced Thee to Thy glory-throne
So help us evermore with thee to bow
Where human sorrow breathes her lowly moan.

We must not stand to gaze too long,
Though on unfolding Heaven our gaze we bend
Where lost behind the bright angelic throng
We see CHRIST'S entering triumph slow ascend.

No fear but we shall soon behold,
Faster than now it fades, that gleam revive,
When issuing from his cloud of fiery gold
Our wasted frames feel the true sun, and live.

Then shall we see Thee as Thou art,
For ever fixed in no unfruitful gaze,
But such as lifts the new-created heart,
Age after age, in worthier love and praise.

--John Keble (1792-1866), Anglican priest, poet, professor, and one of the leaders of the Oxford movement

Ascension

It wasn’t just wind, chasing
thin gunmetal clouds
across the loud sky;
it wasn’t the feeling that one might ascend
on that excited air,
rising like a trumpet note.

And it wasn’t just my sister’s water breaking,
her crying out,
the downward draw of blood and bone….

It was all of that,
the mud and new grass
pushing up through melting snow,
the lilac in bud
by my front door, bent low
by last week’s ice storm.

Now the new mother, that leaky vessel,
begins to nurse her child,
beginning the long good-bye.


--Kathleen Norris (1947- ), Benedictine oblate , poet, and essayist

For the Asking

“You would not seek Me if you did not already possess Me.”- Pascal

Augustine said his soul
was a house so cramped
God could barely squeeze in.
Knock down the mean partitions,
he prayed, so You may enter!
Raise the oppressive ceilings!
                    Augustine’s soul
didn’t become a mansion large enough
to welcome, along with God, the women he’d loved,
except for his mother (though one, perhaps,
his son’s mother, did remain to inhabit
a small dark room). God, therefore,
would never have felt
fully at home as his guest.
                        Nevertheless,
it’s clear desire
fulfilled itself in the asking, revealing prayer’s
dynamic action, that scoops out channels
like water on stone, or builds like layers
of grainy sediment steadily
forming sandstone. The walls with each thought,
each feeling, each word he set down,
expanded, unnoticed; the roof
rose, and a skylight opened.

—Denise Levertov (1923-1997), Anglo-American poet, from This Great Unknowing: Last Poems. This is the feast day of St. Monica, mother of St. Augustine.

The 23rd Psalm, today

The Holy One is my Shepherd;
   there is nothing else I need or lack.
In verdant fields God urges my rest,
   by clear, sweet waters God leads me.

You refresh and revive my soul,
   and are my guide to holy pathways
   that I may glorify Your NAME in each step.

Even if evil and death overshadow me
   and the walls of the deepest valley tower over me,
no fear of evil shall overtake me;
   for You are my companion alongside me always;
   Your rod and staff are ever between me and danger,
      and I am comforted and at peace.

In the face of those who seek my harm
   You prepare a feast;
You have marked me as holy and beloved,
   and have filled my cup to overflowing.

The sureness of Your goodness and mercy
   is the foundation and lodestar of my life,
and my home is with You in each moment,
   and eternally.

--Leslie Barnes Scoopmire, May 4, 2022

The Lord's Prayer, modern ANZPB

Eternal Spirit,
Earth-maker, Pain Bearer, Life-Giver,
Source of all that is and that shall be.
Father and Mother of us all,
Loving God, in whom is heaven:
The hallowing of your name echo through the universe!
The way of your justice be followed by the peoples of the world!
Your heavenly will be done by all created beings!
Your commonwealth of peace and freedom sustain our hope and come on earth.
With the bread we need for today, feed us.
In the hurts we absorb from one another, forgive us.
In times of temptation and test, strengthen us.
From trials too great to endure, spare us.
From the grip of all that is evil, free us.
For your reign in the glory of the power that is love, now and forever. 

Amen.

-- The Rev. Jim Cotter (1942-2014), Anglican priest, prayer writer, and poet, whose work was featured in the prayer book used in Aoteoroa, New Zealand, and Polynesia. This prayer is included in that volume.

Image: The Lord's Prayer in Catalan, from the rear wall of La Sagrada Familia, Barcelona.

The Beltane Blessing

Bless, O Threefold true and bountiful,
Myself, my spouse, and my children,
My tender children and their beloved mother at their head.
On the fragrant plain, on the gay mountain sheiling,
On the fragrant plain, on the gay mountain sheiling.

Everything within my dwelling or in my possession,
All kine and crops, all flocks and corn,
From Hallow Eve to Beltane Eve,
With goodly progress and gentle blessing,
From sea to sea, and every river mouth,
From wave to wave, arid base of waterfall.

Be the Three Persons taking possession of all to me belonging,
Be the sure Trinity protecting me in truth;
Oh! satisfy my soul in the words of Paul,
And shield my loved ones beneath the wing of Thy glory,
Shield my loved ones beneath the wing of Thy glory.

Bless everything and every one,
Of this little household by my side;
Place the cross of Christ on us with the power of love,
Till we see the land of joy,
Till we see the land of joy.

What time the kine shall forsake the stalls,
What time the sheep shall forsake the folds,
What time the goats shall ascend to the mount of mist,
May the tending of the Triune follow them,
May the tending of the Triune follow them.

Thou being who didst create me at the beginning,
Listen and attend me as I bend the knee to Thee,
Morning and evening as is becoming in me,
In Thine own presence, O God of life,
In Thine own presence, O God of life.



-- prayer of the people of the Outer Hebrides, collected by Alexander Carmichael (1832-1912) in the Carmina Gadelica I, 183–185

Beltane is a Celtic May Day festival, halfway between the spring equinox and the summer solstice. A "sheiling" is a pasture.