Author
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Topic: Heart Shaped Cross
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maya-v unregistered
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posted May 31, 2005 05:39 AM
It’s not easy to find. It’s somewhere in the vast waste land between you and God. Many have failed in the journey. Many have died along the way. Many have sat down and wept because they can’t see the tiny light that radiates from the axletree over beyond the borders of darkness. —Dallas Wiebe, excerpted from the poem "Going to the Cross"IP: Logged |
maya-v unregistered
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posted May 31, 2005 05:43 AM
George Herbert - The AltarA broken ALTAR, Lord, thy servant rears, Made of a heart and cemented with tears; Whose parts are as thy hand did frame; No workman's tool hath touch'd the same. A HEART alone Is such a stone, As nothing but Thy pow'r doth cut. Wherefore each part Of my hard heart Meets in this frame To praise thy name. That if I chance to hold my peace, These stones to praise thee may not cease. Oh, let thy blessed SACRIFICE be mine, And sanctify this ALTAR to be thine. IP: Logged |
maya-v unregistered
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posted May 31, 2005 05:44 AM
George Herbert - MattinsI cannot ope mine eyes, But thou art ready there to catch My morning-soul and sacrifice: Then we must needs for that day make a match. My God, what is a heart? Silver, or gold, or precious stone, Or star, or rainbow, or a part Of all these things or all of them in one? My God, what is a heart? That thou should'st it so eye, and woo, Pouring upon it all thy art, As if that thou hadst nothing else to do? Indeed man's whole estate Amounts (and richly) to serve thee: He did not heav'n and earth create, Yet studies them, not him by whom they be. Teach me thy love to know; That this new light, which now I see, May both the work and workman show: Then by a sun-beam I will climb to thee. IP: Logged |
maya-v unregistered
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posted May 31, 2005 05:45 AM
John Dryden - Hidden FlameFeed a flame within, which so torments me That it both pains my heart, and yet contains me: 'Tis such a pleasing smart, and I so love it, That I had rather die than once remove it. Yet he, for whom I grieve, shall never know it; My tongue does not betray, nor my eyes show it. Not a sigh, nor a tear, my pain discloses, But they fall silently, like dew on roses. Thus, to prevent my Love from being cruel, My heart's the sacrifice, as 'tis the fuel; And while I suffer this to give him quiet, My faith rewards my love, though he deny it. On his eyes will I gaze, and there delight me; While I conceal my love no frown can fright me. To be more happy I dare not aspire, Nor can I fall more low, mounting no higher. IP: Logged |
maya-v unregistered
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posted May 31, 2005 05:51 AM
Robert William Service - A Rusty NailI ran a nail into my hand, The wound was hard to heal; So bitter was the pain to stand I thought how it would feel, To have spikes thrust through hands and feet, Impaled by hammer beat. Then hoisted on a cross of oak Against the sullen sky, With all about the jeering follk Who joyed to see me die; Die hardly in insensate heat, With bleeding hands and feet. Yet was it not that day of Fate, Of cruelty insane, Climaxing centuries of hate That woke our souls to pain! And are we not the living seed Of those who did the deed! Of course, with thankful heart I know We are not fiends as then; And in a thousand years or so We may be gentle men. But it has cost a poisoned hand, And pain beyond a cry, To make me strangely understand A Cross against the sky. IP: Logged |
Valus Knowflake Posts: 370 From: Registered: Apr 2009
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posted May 29, 2009 09:06 PM
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