St. Bartholomew's Episcopal Church

Ask no more about separation
Somehow I lived through its night
The heart learned to console itself
life returned to its routines

In the festival of memory
you again were loveliness
lit up by beauty
The grief of the moon was extinguished
we were again together in the night

When I remember you
the morning is essence it is perfume it's musk
And the night
when I kindle our sorrow
is longing caught in itself

The heart as such
had settled every doubt
when I went to tell her we must part
But on seeing her

Faith-is the pierless bridge
Supporting what We see
Unto the Scene that we do not-
Too slender for the eye

It bears the Soul as bold
As it were rocked in Steel
With Arms of steel at either side

Today the church celebrates the life of George Herbert, a poet and parson

LOVE (III)
by George Herbert

Love bade me welcome, yet my soul drew back,
Guilty of dust and sin.
But quick-ey'd Love, observing me grow slack
From my first entrance in,
Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning
If I lack'd anything.

"A guest," I answer'd, "worthy to be here";
Love said, "You shall be he."
"I, the unkind, the ungrateful? ah my dear,
I cannot look on thee."
Love took my hand and smiling did reply,
"Who made the eyes but I?"

Human beings suffer,
they torture one another,
they get hurt and get hard.
No poem or play or song
can fully right a wrong
inflicted or endured.

The innocent in gaols
beat on their bars together.
A hunger-striker's father
stands in the graveyard dumb.
The police widow in veils
faints at the funeral home.

History says, Don't hope
on this side of the grave.
But then, once in a lifetime
the longed for tidal wave
of justice can rise up,
and hope and history rhyme.

So hope for a great sea-change
on the far side of revenge.
Believe that a further shore
is reachable from here.
Believe in miracles
and cures and healing wells.

Call the miracle self-healing:
The utter self-revealing
double-take of feeling.
If there's fire on the mountain
Or lightning and storm
And a god speaks from the sky

That means someone is hearing
the outcry and the birth-cry
of new life at its term.

~ Seamus Heaney ~

Sick as a dog. Cancelled vestry meeting last night. Cancelling lots of meetings today. Still, have plenty of work to do. I made chicken soup for myself (this is the consequence of being a bachelor).

I received A.E. Stalling's book Hapax, the other day. A magnificent book.

Check this out:

Antiblurb

This is not necessary. This is neither
Crucial nor salvation. It is no hymn
To harmonize the choirs of seraphim,
Nor any generation's bold bellwether
Leading the flock, no iridescent feather
Dropped from the Muse's wing. It does not limn,
Or speak in tongues, or voice the mute, or dim
Outmoded theories with its fireworks. Rather

This is flawed and mortal, and its stains
Bear the evidence of taking pains.
It did not have to happen, won't illumine
The smirch of history, the future's omen.
Necessity is merely what sustains --
It's what we do not need that makes us human.

Benediction (from the Writer's Almanac) by Stanley Kunitz

God banish from your house
The fly, the roach, the mouse

That riots in the walls
Until the plaster falls;

Admonish from your door
The hypocrite and liar;

No shy, soft, tigrish fear
Permit upon your stair,

Nor agents of your doubt.
God drive them whistling out.

Let nothing touched with evil,
Let nothing that can shrivel

Heart's tenderest frond, intrude
Upon your still, deep blood.

Against the drip of night
God keep all windows tight,

Protect your mirrors from
Surprise, delirium,

Admit no trailing wind
Into your shuttered mind

To plume the lake of sleep
With dreams. If you must weep

God give you tears, but leave
You secrecy to grieve,

And islands for your pride,
And love to nest in your side.