To see us but receive, is such a sight
As makes His treasures infinite!
Because His goodness doth possess
In us, His own, and our own blessedness.
Yea, more, His love doth take delight
To make our glory infinite;
Our blessedness to see
Is even to the Deity
A beatific vision! He attains
His ends while we enjoy. In us He reigns.
For God enjoyed is all His end.
Himself He then doth comprehend
When He is blessed, magnified,
Extolled, exalted, praised, and glorified,
Honored, esteemed, beloved, enjoyed,
Admired, sanctified, obeyed,
That is received. For He
Doth place His whole felicity
In that : who is despised and defied,
Undeified almost if once denied.
In all His works, in all His ways,
We must His glory see and praise;
And since our pleasure is the end,
We must His goodness and His love attend.
If we despise His glorious works,
Such sin and mischief in it lurks
That they are all made in vain;
And this is even endless pain
To Him that sees it: whose diviner grief
Is hereupon (ah me!) without relief.
We please His goodness that receive;
Refusers Him of all bereave,
As bridegrooms know full well that build
A palace for their bride. It will not yield
Any delight to him at all
If she for whom he made the hall
Refuse to dwell in it,
Or plainly scorn the benefit.
Her act that's wooed yields more delight and pleasure
If she receives, than all the pile of treasure.
But we have hands, and lips, and eyes,
And hearts and souls can sacrifice;
And souls themselves are made in vain
If we our evil stubbornness retain.
Affections, praises, are the things
For which He gave us all those springs;
They are the very fruits
Of all those trees and roots,
The fruits and ends of all His great endeavours,
Which he abolisheth whoever severs.
'Tis not alone a lively sense,
A clear and quick intelligence,
A free, profound, and full esteem;
Though these elixirs all and ends do seem:
But gratitude, thanksgiving, praise,
A heart returned for all those joys,
These are the things admired,
These are the things by Him desired:
These are the nectar and the quintessence,
The cream and flower that most affect His sense.
The voluntary act whereby
These are repaid is in His eye
More precious than the very sky.
All gold and silver is but empty dross, *
Rubies and sapphires are but loss,
The very sun, and stars, and seas
Far less His spirit please:
One voluntary act of love
Far more delightful to His soul doth prove,
And is above all these as far as love.
--Thomas Traherne (1636-1694), English priest and poet, whose feast day is September 28.
*- See Matthew 6:19-24
But that which most I wonder at, which most
I did esteem my bliss, which most I boast,
And ever shall enjoy, is that within
I felt no stain, nor spot of sin.
No darkness then did overshade,
But all within was pure and bright,
No guilt did crush, nor fear invade
But all my soul was full of light.
A joyful sense and purity
Is all I can remember;
The very night to me was bright,
'Twas summer in December.
A serious meditation did employ
My soul within, which taken up with joy
Did seem no outward thing to note, but fly
All objects that do feed the eye.
While it those very objects did
Admire, and prize, and praise, and love,
Which in their glory most are hid,
Which presence only doth remove.
Their constant daily presence I
Rejoicing at, did see;
And that which takes them from the eye
Of others, offer'd them to me.
No inward inclination did I feel
To avarice or pride: my soul did kneel
In admiration all the day. No lust, nor strife,
Polluted then my infant life.
No fraud nor anger in me mov'd,
No malice, jealousy, or spite;
All that I saw I truly lov'd.
Contentment only and delight
Were in my soul. O Heav'n! what bliss
Did I enjoy and feel!
What powerful delight did this
Inspire! for this I daily kneel.
Whether it be that nature is so pure,
And custom only vicious; or that sure
God did by miracle the guilt remove,
And make my soul to feel his love
So early: or that 'twas one day,
Wherein this happiness I found;
Whose strength and brightness so do ray,
That still it seems me to surround;
What ere it is, it is a light
So endless unto me
That I a world of true delight
Did then and to this day do see.
That prospect was the gate of Heav'n, that day
The ancient light of Eden did convey
Into my soul: I was an Adam there
A little Adam in a sphere
Of joys! O there my ravish'd sense
Was entertain'd in Paradise,
And had a sight of innocence
Which was beyond all bound and price.
An antepast of Heaven sure!
I on the earth did reign;
Within, without me, all was pure;
I must become a child again.
--Thomas Traherne (1636-1674), English priest and poet, whose feast day is today.
Pack Nothing.
Bring only your determination to serve
and your willingness to be free.
Don't wait for the bread to rise.
Take nourishment for the journey,
but eat standing, be ready
to move at a moment's notice.
Do not hesitate to leave
your old ways behind—
fear, silence, submission.
Only surrender to the need
of the time— to love
justice and walk humbly
with your God.
Do not take time to explain to the neighbors.
Tell only a few trusted friends and family members.
Then begin quickly,
before you have time to sink back
into the old slavery.
Set out in the dark.
I will send fire to warm and encourage you.
I will be with you in the fire
and I will be with you in the cloud.
You will learn to eat new food
and find refuge in new places.
I will give you dreams in the desert
to guide you safely home to that place
you have not yet seen.
The stories you tell one another around your fires
in the dark will make you strong and wise.
Outsiders will attack you,
and some who follow you,
and at times you will weary
and turn on each other
from fear and fatigue and
blind forgetfulness.
You have been preparing for this for hundreds of years.
I am sending you into the wilderness to make a way
and to learn my ways more deeply.
Those who fight you will teach you.
Those who fear you will strengthen you.
Those who follow you may forget you.
Only be faithful. This alone matters.
Some of you will die in the desert,
for the way is longer than anyone imagined.
Some of you will give birth.
Some will join other tribes along the way,
and some will simply stop and create
new families in a welcoming oasis.
Some of you will be so changed
by weathers and wanderings
that even your closest friends
will have to learn your features
as though for the first time.
Some of you will not change at all.
Some will be abandoned
by your dearest loves
and misunderstood by those
who have known you since birth
and feel abandoned by you.
Some will find new friendship
in unlikely faces, and old friends
as faithful and true as the pillar of God's flame.
Wear protection.
Your flesh will be torn
as you make a path
with your bodies
through sharp tangles.
Wear protection.
Others who follow may deride
or forget the fools who first bled
where thorns once were, carrying them
away in their own flesh.
Such urgency as you now bear
may embarrass your children
who will know little of these times.
Sing songs as you go,
and hold close together.
You may at times grow
confused and lose your way.
Continue to call each other
by the names I've given you,
to help remember who you are.
You will get where you are going
by remembering who you are.
Touch each other
and keep telling the stories
of old bondage and of how
I delivered you.
Tell you children lest they forget
and fall into danger— remind them
even they were not born in freedom
but under a bondage they no longer
remember, which is still with them, if unseen.
Or they were born in the open desert
where no signposts are.
Make maps as you go,
remembering the way back
from before you were born.
So long ago you fell
into slavery, slipped
into it unawares,
out of hunger and need.
You left your famished country
for freedom and food in a new land,
but you fell unconscious and passive,
and slavery overtook you as you fell
asleep in the ease of your life.
You no longer told stories of home
to remember who you were.
Do not let your children sleep
through the journey's hardship.
Keep them awake and walking
on their own feet so that you both
remain strong and on course.
So you will be only
the first of many waves
of deliverance on these
desert seas.
It is the first of many
beginnings— your Paschaltide.
Remain true to this mystery.
Pass on the whole story.
I spared you all
by calling you forth
from your chains.
Do not go back.
I am with you now
and I am waiting for you.
--Alla Renee Bozarth (1947- ), poet, priest, therapist, and one of the Philadelphia 11, from Womanpriest: A Personal Odyssey, 1988
