revolutionarypoetry2: Savour Grief

revol



The Messenger

I passed by your window in the early Morn;
Your doors were shut and your curtains drawn;
Yet, though I knew you were wrapped in sleep
I thought the news to good to keep.

So, I tossed up a pebble to tinkle your pane;
I guess you thought it was merely rain.
And, I sang you an Obade, there in the dark;
Perhaps you thought it was just a lark.

Or was it He who sent the rain
You thought you heard upon your pane;
As wasn’t it He, passed ages dark,
Who gave the voice to the Lark?

But lest I disturb you with my song,
I’ll pick up my verse and just move along:
For the evening has passed and the night is gone,
And there on the mountain is the Trumpet of Dawn.



An Obade is song sung at dawn in honor of someone.utionarypoetry2: Savour Grief

New Church in Australia, The (Swedenborgian) - Splash Page -- All Welcome --

New Church in Australia, The (Swedenborgian) - Splash Page -- All Welcome --

Swedenborg

Swedenborg



He went into his Closet,

In search of a cloak to wear;



And touched the sleeve of a seamless weave

O linen white and fair.



As blessed, I’m sure, are the poor;

Goodwill is Heaven sent:



With hand-me-down clothes,

(in a manner of prose)

That covers us like a tent.

Savour Grief

Savour Grief



When the joys of life may cease,



Jesus taught us to Savour Grief;



For ere the soul can savour its release



It first must dive to touch the barren reef



And thence, where life was first begun,



Ascend beyond the reaches of the sun.

The Calling of the Clan

The Calling of the Clan





Be they be, by bond or blood,



When Earth has swallowed up the flood;



And whether they be Knight or Knave,



All shall to His banner clave



To plight the Maximus of Man:



The final “Calling of His Clan.”