God Speaks to the Soul

God speaks to the soul
And God said to the soul:
I desired you before the world began.
I desire you now
As you desire me.
And where the desires of two come together
There love is perfected.

--Mechthild of Magdeburg (1207-1292), Medieval German mystic and poet

Pierce My Soul

Lord Jesus Christ,
pierce my soul with your love
so that I may always long for you alone,
who are the bread of angels
and the fulfillment of the soul's deepest desires.

May my heart always hunger and feed on you,
so that my soul may be filled with sweetness in your presence.

May my soul thirst for you,
who are the source of life, wisdom, knowledge, light
and all the riches of God our Father.

May I always seek and find you,
think about you, speak to you
and do everything for the honour and glory of your name.

Be always my hope, my peace, my refuge and help
in whom my heart is rooted
so that I may never separate from you. 

--St. Bonaventure,  (1221-1274) 13th century Franciscan bishop, theologian, and philosopher

Prayer:Make My Heart Your Dwelling-Place

O God, make my heart your dwelling-place,
for You are my companion
and my guide along the way.
We rise with your praise upon our lips,
for the Lord has been good to us indeed.

Your Spirit has called to us
in trouble and in plenty;
let us always sing out your untold blessings.
You are our All-in-All,
O Merciful One,
and we give You thanks
for all YOU have given us.
God hovers over us
and covers us with the hand of favor:
all that I am I offer to God.
God's comfort rests like a cooling breeze
upon those who call upon their Redeemer,
and we offer hymns
of praise and thanksgiving.

Watch over those for whom we pray,
Lord Christ,
and grant them rest.

Power is Safest in the Poet's Hands

Power is safest in the poet's hands, thus for the poet

God will

pose.

The realms of thought, sublimely wild, the finest pigments of

ground suns, the violin's divine plea for a 

true friend;

what is all this world has seen from art: the shadow more true and

glorious there

than in the cage where there is often talk of right and wrong.

The reins of God say to his lover,

"Hold me in your mouth, dear,

as you toil with all your limbs and strength

to free the magnificence

in man."

The reins of the Sky sing,

"Grab hold, and you will know God

lowers His cup into you

to drink."

--Shams-ud-din Muhammad Hafiz (ca 1320-1389), Persian mystic poet, from Love Poems from God: Twelve Sacred Voices from the East and West, Daniel Ladinsky, ed.

Servant

Whatever title, privilege or prestige
others may give me,
I am your servant, Holy One.

When I look at another,
may I do so with eyes
of compassion and generosity,
not of desire and deception;

when I speak to another,
may I do so with a voice
of wisdom and trust,
not of manipulation and arrogance;

when I am given a chance
to serve my sisters and brothers,
may I do so with an open heart
and outstretched hope,
not grudgingly
while worrying about my loss;

when you seek
to dwell in my heart,
may I empty myself
so I can be filled.

I am your servant, Holy One.

--Thom M. Shuman, in from Like Leaves to the Sun: Prayers from the Iona Community, 2013

After Communion

Why should I call Thee Lord, Who art my God?
    Why should I call Thee Friend, Who art my Love?
    Or King, who art my very spouse above?
Or call Thy Sceptre upon my heart Thy Rod?
    Lo now Thy banner over me is love,
All heaven flies open to me at Thy nod;
For Thou has lit Thy flame in me a clod,
    Made me a nest for dwelling of Thy Dove.
    What wilt Thou call me in our home above,
Who now has called me friend? how will it be
    When Thou for good wine settest forth the best?
Now Thou dost bid me come and sup with Thee,
    Now Thou dost make me lean upon Thy breast;
How ill it be with me in time of love?

--Christina Rosetti (1830-1894), English poet and supporter of the Oxford Movement, from Women in Praise of the Sacred: 43 Centuries of Spiritual Poetry by Women, 1994

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)

Prayer of Abandonment into God

Softly as the dew-fall of heaven,

may the Holy Spirit come upon me

to aid me and to raise me,

to bind my prayer firmly

at the throne of the King of life.

God's will would I do,

my own will bridle;

God's due would I give,

my own due yield;

God's path

would I travel

my own path refuse.

All whom I love,

into Your safe keeping;

all that I am,

into your tender care;

all that will be,

into your perfect will.

Amen.

-- from Celtic Daily Prayer, Book One: The Journey Begins, from prayers relating to Cuthbert of Northumbria (635-687), pp. 297-298. Cuthbert's feast day in today, March 20.

Image: Castle on Holy Isle of Landisfarne.

The Second Jesus

O Lord, it’s me: blanked out in divine light
and become a horizon of rays flashing from the Essence.

My every atom yearned for vision
till I fell drunk on the manifestations of lordship.

Love polished the rust from my heart’s mirror
till I began to see the mysteries;

I emerged from the darkness of my existence
and became what I am (you know me) from the Light of Being:

blackened like charcoal dark soul’s smoke
but mixed with love fires and illumined.

Some say the path is difficult;
God forgive them! I went so easily:

The Holy Spirit breathes his every breath into Mo’in–
who knows? Maybe I’m the second Jesus.

--Gharib Nawaz (ca 1142- 1236), Persian Sufi poet and mystic, from The Drunken Universe: An Anthology of Persian Sufi Poetry