Quotes about amen, page 6
Children Of God
We are all children, all children of God
We are all kindred to angels though flawed
We are all breathing the breath of our God
With singing and shouting his works to applaud
Come little children, the master once said
He led us to pastures with golden gifts spread
We children partook of his wine and his bread
His body and blood to sure saving grace led
We children must be, must be born again
Nor will of the flesh nor yet will of men
Can open the floodgates of spirit's fair glen
Where love dwells forever, amen and amen.
poem by Liilia Talts Morrison
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Guinevere at Her Fireside
A nobler king had never breath-
I say it now, and said it then.
Who weds with such is wed till death
And wedded stays in Heaven. Amen.
(And oh, the shirts of linen-lawn,
And all the armor, tagged and tied,
And church on Sundays, dusk and dawn.
And bed a thing to kneel beside!)
The bravest one stood tall above
The rest, and watched me as a light.
I heard and heard them talk of love;
I'd naught to do but think, at night.
The bravest man has littlest brains;
That chalky fool from Astolat
With all her dying and her pains!-
Thank God, I helped him over that.
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poem by Dorothy Parker
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A Lost Chord
SEATED one day at the Organ,
I was weary and ill at ease,
And my fingers wandered idly
Over the noisy keys.
I do not know what I was playing,
Or what I was dreaming then ;
But I struck one chord of music,
Like the sound of a great Amen.
It flooded the crimson twilight,
Like the close of an Angel's Psalm,
And it lay on my fevered spirit
With a touch of infinite calm.
It quieted pain and sorrow,
Like love overcoming strife ;
It seemed the harmonious echo
From our discordant life.
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poem by Adelaide Anne Procter
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Dr John Celes’ Song of Christmas,2009
The time for Christmas comes at last;
Prepare for baby Jesus, fast;
Confess your sins committed past;
Proclaim the joy to world, so vast!
The manger home of Jesus Christ,
Afilled with angels who sing first,
‘Hosanna to the One Highest’,
And ‘peace to men, who serve Him best! ’
So spread the tidings, angels brought;
A Savior King, the world has got;
The baby sleeps on hay, not cot,
To share the suffering mankind’s lot!
The Son of God came to this world,
By being born in freezing cold;
Bethlehem’s Star to Magi told,
‘A king was born to peace unfold! ’
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poem by John Celes
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The Wind Breaker
have the sun rise from the edge of the sea, the
horizon that blew the parallel of heaven and the
earth vision the bridge of hope and tomorrow
always come in thy mighty spark of success
where for every glow of stream light comes
from the heavenly bodies and point us to hold
that each faith hold bravely amidst this fume of fire;
until the coming day will come to stay and leave
our temptation so strong to resist the heavenly
haven below
light every flow of faded hope for the dawning
sun rises to our dear prayer, and preciously hold the
stone unturned before the turmoil of bitterness be
loved in every waited dream each lives possess
now glorify my strength, and never turn back
the lasting gems in your heart for the field is empty
and the laborer are few, listen of the echo of thy
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poem by Antonio Liao
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A Dyttie To Hey Downe
Who sekes to tame the blustering winde,
Or causse the floods bend to his wyll,
Or els against dame nature's kinde
To 'change' things frame by cunning skyll:
That man I thinke bestoweth paine,
Thoughe that his laboure be in vaine.
Who strives to breake the sturdye steele,
Or goeth about to staye the sunne;
Who thinks to causse an oke to reele,
Which never can by force be done:
That man likewise bestoweth paine,
Thoughe that his laboure be in vaine.
Who thinks to stryve against the streame,
And for to sayle without a maste;
Unlesse he thinks perhapps to faine,
His travell ys forelorne and waste;
And so in cure of all his paine,
His travell ys his cheffest gaine.
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poem by Anonymous Olde English
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Pimp In The Pulpit, And We Were Too Blind To See
Welcome, our new pastor to the pulpit
green suit, shining bright,
quided by the light, shining bright
should bring us some delight.
Soft words,
broken sentences
upholding no biblical text to us
Is he speaking the word, !
sounds foreign, his bliblical text to us..
Congregation quiet,
looking for something to
take in
broken hearts, broken spirits
Usually sounds of tears,
pleas of mercy
tongue spoken words you can hear
a message
for our new pastor to declare.
Someone shouts, ' speak pastor speak'
hoping Mr.Bright Green suit
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poem by Adrienne Clark Strachn
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McGonagall's Ode to the King
Oh! God, I thank Thee for restoring King Edward the Seventh's health again,
And let all his subjects throughout the Empire say Amen;
May God guard him by night and day,
At home and abroad, when he's far away.
May angels guard his bed at night when he lies down,
And may his subjects revere him, and on him do not frown;
May he be honoured by them at home and abroad,
And may he always be protected by the Eternal God.
My blessing on his noble form, and on his lofty head,
May all good angels guard him while living and when dead;
And when the final hour shall come to summons him away,
May his soul be wafted to the realms of bliss I do pray.
Long may he reign, happy and serene,
Also his Queen most beautiful to be seen;
And may God guard his family by night and day,
That they may tread in the paths of virtue and not go astray.
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poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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Same As Here
I got home from school one day
with a dark spot on my eye
Masiter Kumedzro always say:
fighting was against the rules
so when Grandma got home I told her a story
just like I'd rehearsed some hours before
and there I stood on my trembling knees
waiting for the worst
interestingly, she did not say a word
when she got into the kitchen she called
she said son 'Let me tell you a secret
about a Grandma's love”
a secret she said was just between us
she said, “Grandma’s don't just love their children
every now and then, it's a love without an end, amen'
when I became a father
there was no doubt my son was a stubborn boy
he was not like me but as just like my father's son
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poem by Padmore Enyonam Agbemabiese
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From Essays On Man And The Divine Feminine...
we all are a holy mixture.... birth and death, hunger and fire, day and night, male and female.... reside within each of us.
most males are trained by society to diminish the feminine in themselves. this makes the man more aggressive, more violent, more success driven, more seek and take by force... and incredibly lonely, empty.
Robert Bly and the men's movement understood this problem, and sought by naked exploration of the self to find the cure, to be the cure. and yes, Hune, there are many men who find this wholeness, and live it.
women, having been treated as inferior for ages... have begun the fight for equality, have sought to make their place in a male world.
and in so doing have taken on some of the male ego.... and often some of the worst parts of it.
what we have to find is a balance! there are good men, and good women...
and there are men and women not at peace with themselves, who do bad things, who act from the ego, and not from the heart!
i am a man, both good and evil reside in me. i choose to seek the goodness, but i trip and fall quite often. the holiness of man resides in my common struggle.
the divine feminine also resides in me. the holiness of woman is a part of who i am.
i am both penis, and womb. i am the maker, and the one who gives birth.
i am both living, and dying. i am both the ocean, and the shore. i am both sin, and redemption.
balance, flow, and intimate understanding.... when sexuality is a prayer, when the small child sitting on the lap the true scripture....
when the hands that pulled the trigger now dig in the ground....
when the language of owls and trees and stones is understood...
when death becomes the very orgasm of life.... when light seeks darkness....
amen, and amen!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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