Madame Jeanne Guyon (1648-1717)

Love of God

All are indebted much to thee,
But I far more than all,
From many a deadly snare set free,
And raised from many a fall.
Overwhelm me, from above,
Daily, with thy boundless love.

What bonds of gratitude I feel
No language can declare;
Beneath the oppressive weight I reel,
'Tis more than I can bear:
When shall I that blessing prove,
To return thee love for love?

Spirit of charity, dispense
Thy grace to every heart;
Expel all other spirits thence,
Drive self from every part;
Charity divine, draw nigh,
Break the chains in which we lie!

All selfish souls, whate'er they feign,
Have still a slavish lot;
They boast of liberty in vain,
Of love, and feel it not.
He whose bosom glows with thee,
He, and he alone, is free.

Oh blessedness, all bliss above,
When thy pure fires prevail!
Love only teaches what is love:
All other lessons fail:
We learn its name, but not its powers,
Experience only makes it ours.

               a poem by Madame  Guyon

taken from Thirty-seven poems by Guyon translated by William Cowper (1779) from a French collection published in 1722, Poesies et cantiques 

Visit the Living Water bio for Madame Guyon

Mystical Verse: Oliver Wendell Holmes

 Lord of all Being

Lord of all being, thronèd afar,
Thy glory flames from sun and star;
Center and soul of every sphere,
Yet to each loving heart how near!

Sun of our life, Thy quickening ray,
Sheds on our path the glow of day;
Star of our hope, Thy softened light
Cheers the long watches of the night.

Our midnight is Thy smile withdrawn;
Our noontide is Thy gracious dawn;
Our rainbow arch, Thy mercy’s sign;
All, save the clouds of sin, are Thine.

Lord of all life, below, above,
Whose light is truth, whose warmth is love,
Before Thy ever blazing throne
We ask no luster of our own.

Grant us Thy truth to make us free,
And kindling hearts that burn for Thee,
Till all Thy living altars claim
One holy light, one heavenly flame.

                      Oliver Wendell Holmes

Cadmon's Hymn: prelude to the Beatles

Cædmon's Hymn is a short Old English  poem originally composed by Cædmon, in honour of God the Creator. It survives in a Latin. Bede wrote about the poet and his work in the fourth book of his Historia ecclesiastica gentis Anglorum 

Bede told the story of Cædmon who was an illiterate cow-herd who miraculously was able to recite a Christian song of creation in Old English verse. This miracle happened after Cædmon left a feast when they were passing a harp around for all to sing a song. He left the hall after feeling ashamed that he could not contribute a song. Later in a dream he said a man appeared to him and asked him to sing a song. Cædmon responded that he could not sing, yet the man told him that he could and asked him to “Sing to me the beginning of all things.” Cædmon was then able to sing verses and words that he had not heard of before. Cædmon then reported his experience first to a steward then to Hild the abbess. She invited scholars to evaluate Cædmon’s gift, and he was sent home to turn more divine doctrine into song. The abbess was so impressed with the success of his gift that she encouraged him to become a monk. He learned the history of the Christian church and created more music like the story of Genesis and many biblical stories which impressed his teachers. Bede says that Cædmon in his creation of his songs wanted to turn man from love of sin to a love of good deeds. Cædmon is said to have died peacefully in his sleep after asking for the Eucharist and making sure he was at peace with his fellow men.

 Now let me praise the keeper of Heaven's kingdom,
The might of the Creator, and his thought,
The work of the Father of glory, how each of wonders
The Eternal Lord established in the beginning.
He first created for the sons of men
Heaven as a roof, the holy Creator,
Then Middle-earth the keeper of mankind,
The Eternal Lord, afterwards made,
The earth for men, the Almighty Lord.

 Cædmon's Hymn is the oldest recorded  Old English poem


adapted from Wikkipedia

graphic: Caedmons Cross At Whitby – Caedmon Was The First Poet In England

The Lamb

Little Lamb who made thee
Dost thou know who made thee
Gave thee life & bid thee feed.
By the stream & o'er the mead;
Gave thee clothing of delight,
Softest clothing wooly bright;
Gave thee such a tender voice,
Making all the vales rejoice!
Little Lamb who made thee
Dost thou know who made thee

Little Lamb I'll tell thee,
Little Lamb I'll tell thee!
He is called by thy name,
For he calls himself a Lamb:
He is meek & he is mild,
He became a little child:
I a child & thou a lamb,
We are called by his name.
Little Lamb God bless thee.
Little Lamb God bless thee.

Willliam Blake
            From: Songs of Innocence and Experience

William Blake

The Lamb

Little Lamb who made thee
Dost thou know who made thee
Gave thee life & bid thee feed.
By the stream & o'er the mead;
Gave thee clothing of delight,
Softest clothing wooly bright;
Gave thee such a tender voice,
Making all the vales rejoice!
Little Lamb who made thee
Dost thou know who made thee
Little Lamb I'll tell thee,
Little Lamb I'll tell thee!
He is called by thy name,
For he calls himself a Lamb:
He is meek & he is mild,
He became a little child:
I a child & thou a lamb,
We are called by his name.
Little Lamb God bless thee.
Little Lamb God bless thee.
Willliam Blake From: Songs of Innocence and Experience
- See more at: http://allspirit.co.uk/lamb.html#sthash.MCYpDKFG.dpuf

Thanks Giving (6)

Now Thank We Our God

1 Now thank we all our God
with heart and hands and voices,
who wondrous things has done,
in whom his world rejoices;
who from our mothers' arms
has blessed us on our way
with countless gifts of love,
and still is ours today.

2 O may this bounteous God
through all our life be near us,
with ever joyful hearts
and blessed peace to cheer us,
to keep us in his grace,
and guide us when perplexed,
and free us from all ills
of this world in the next.

3 All praise and thanks to God
the Father now be given,
the Son and Spirit blest,
who reign in highest heaven
the one eternal God,
whom heaven and earth adore;
for thus it was, is now,
and shall be evermore

                            Martin Rinckart 1586 - 1649

There is a candle in your heart...

There is a candle in your heart,
ready to be kindled.
There is a void in your soul,
ready to be filled.
You feel it, don't you?
You feel the separation
from the Beloved.
Invite Him to fill you up,
embrace the fire.
Remind those who tell you otherwise that
Love
comes to you of its own accord,
and the yearning for it
cannot be learned in any school.

Rumi

 From: Hush Don't Say Anything to God: Passionate Poems of Rumi

From: Hush Don't Say Anything to God: Passionate Poems of Rumi - See more at: http://allspirit.co.uk/rumicandle.html#sthash.RYNOWmlb.dpuf

Rumi Poems

There is a candle in your heart...

There is a candle in your heart,
ready to be kindled.
There is a void in your soul,
ready to be filled.
You feel it, don't you?
You feel the separation
from the Beloved.
Invite Him to fill you up,
embrace the fire.
Remind those who tell you otherwise that
Love
comes to you of its own accord,
and the yearning for it
cannot be learned in any school.
- See more at: http://allspirit.co.uk/rumicandle.html#sthash.RYNOWmlb.dpuf

There is a candle in your heart...

There is a candle in your heart,
ready to be kindled.
There is a void in your soul,
ready to be filled.
You feel it, don't you?
You feel the separation
from the Beloved.
Invite Him to fill you up,
embrace the fire.
Remind those who tell you otherwise that
Love
comes to you of its own accord,
and the yearning for it
cannot be learned in any school.
- See more at: http://allspirit.co.uk/rumicandle.html#sthash.RYNOWmlb.dpuf

There is a candle in your heart...

There is a candle in your heart,
ready to be kindled.
There is a void in your soul,
ready to be filled.
You feel it, don't you?
You feel the separation
from the Beloved.
Invite Him to fill you up,
embrace the fire.
Remind those who tell you otherwise that
Love
comes to you of its own accord,
and the yearning for it
cannot be learned in any school.
- See more at: http://allspirit.co.uk/rumicandle.html#sthash.RYNOWmlb.dpuf

Love makes us speak

Love makes us speak; 

love makes us moan;

love makes us die; 
love brings us to life; 

love makes us drunk and bewildered; 

it sometimes makes one a king.

Love and the lover have no rigid doctrine. 

Whichever direction the lover takes, 

he turns toward his beloved. 

Wherever he may be, he is with his beloved. 

Wherever he goes, he goes with his beloved.

He cannot do anything, cannot 
survive for even one moment, without his beloved.

He constantly recalls his beloved as his beloved remembers him. 

Lover and beloved, rememberer and remembered, 

are ever in each other's company, always together. 

~Sheikh Muzaffer

Sufi mystic 

Much of sufi poetry and imagery is reflective of the Song of 

Solomon in that it places God as the Beloved and the seeker 

as the intoxicated lover and concerns it's self with the union

of the lover and the beloved.

The Lover and the Beloved

Indeed, no lover seeks union without his beloved seeking him.

But the love of lovers makes their bodies into bowstrings,
while the love of beloveds makes them happy and plump.

When the lightning of love for the loved one flashes in *this* heart,
know that there is also love in *that* heart.

When love for God has doubled in your heart,
without doubt God has love for you.

You have never heard one hand clapping without the other.

The thirsty man laments, "Oh sweet water!"
The water also laments, "Where is the drinker!"

This thirst in our souls is the attraction of the Water -
we belong to It and It belongs to us.


Jalaluddin Rumi's Mathnawi, book 3, vv. 4393-4399,
from "The Sufi Path of Love," translated by W. C. Chittick, p.209.

Graphic:  Song of Solomon, illustrations, music, pictures: brookwww.song-of-songs.net 

Sufism  is defined by its adherents as the inner, mystical dimension of Islam. A practitioner of this tradition is generally known as a ṣūfī Sufis believe they are practicing ihsan (perfection of worship) as revealed by Gabriel to Muhammad: "Worship and serve Allah as you are seeing Him and while you see Him not yet truly He sees you".. Sufism is opposed by Wahhabi and Salafist Muslims.(adapted from Wikipedia)

In the golden city of the heart

In the golden city of the heart dwells
The Lord of Love, without parts, without stain.
Know him as the radiant light of lights.

There shines not the sun, neither moon nor star,
Nor flash of lightning, nor fire lit on earth.
The Lord is the light reflected by all.
He shining, everything shines after him.

Mundaka Upanishad 2.2.10-11

For more background about The Mundaka Upanishad: (Sanskrit: मुण्डक उपनिषद्, Muṇḍaka Upaniṣad) or the Mundakopanishad (Sanskrit: मुण्डकोपनिषद्, Muṇḍakopaniṣad) 

is one of the earlier, "primary" (mukhya) Upanishads, a genre of Hindu scriptures 

commented upon by Shankara. It is associated with the Atharvaveda.  

It figures as number 5 in the Muktika canon of 108 Upanishads.

Mystery of the Mundane (part 3)

 








Earth's crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God;
But only he who sees, takes off his shoes,
The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries,
And daub their natural faces unaware.
    ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING,

Mundane: common place
God is found in the common places. He walked in the cool of the day. He was found in the still small voice. He rides on the wings of the wind. His glory is etched in the drifting clouds above. Present in the fragrance of a flower.

The mundane moments of daily life are ripe with His presence, doing the dishes, driving to work, nursing the baby, waiting on tables, walking in the woods. The Celtic culture nurtured and facilitated a sacramental approach to life. Not only recognizing but expecting Gods presence in the ordinary routine of life.

The Celt's recognized and celebrated the sacred in the common place. They anticipated and invited the presence into everyday activities such as setting the fireplace, milking the cow, churning the butter, ploughing the fields.

"I AM smooring the fireAs the Son of Mary would smoor Blest be the house, blest be the fire, Blest be the people all." (a blessing for preparing the night hearth)

"The guarding of God and the Lord be yours... Traveling meads long and grassy...Be the bright Michael king of the angels Protecting, and keeping, and saving you." ( a portion of a herders prayer) 

When we begin to recognize and acknowledge the presence in our mundane daily activities, we then begin to take off our shoes in the presence of every common bush a fire with God. All activities become sacred and sacramental, all ground holy. Every moment becomes pregnant with possibility and a live with wonder. And the simplest common activities can become "spiritual practices'. 

living water reprint from 2009

Gratitude and Love to God

a poem by Madame De La Mothe Guyon

All are indebted much to thee,
But I far more than all,
From many a deadly snare set free,
And raised from many a fall.
Overwhelm me, from above,
Daily, with thy boundless love.

What bonds of gratitude I feel
No language can declare;
Beneath the oppressive weight I reel,
'Tis more than I can bear:
When shall I that blessing prove,
To return thee love for love?

Spirit of charity, dispense
Thy grace to every heart;
Expel all other spirits thence,
Drive self from every part;
Charity divine, draw nigh,
Break the chains in which we lie!

All selfish souls, whate'er they feign,
Have still a slavish lot;
They boast of liberty in vain,
Of love, and feel it not.
He whose bosom glows with thee,
He, and he alone, is free.

Oh blessedness, all bliss above,
When thy pure fires prevail!
Love only teaches what is love:
All other lessons fail:
We learn its name, but not its powers,
Experience only makes it ours.

taken from Thirty-seven poems by Guyon translated by William Cowper (1779) from a French collection published in 1722, Poesies et cantiques spirituels.

grapic: from photo bucket

living water from an ancient well repeat from 2009

Using the Ceilidh model for gathering

Ceilidhs are a wonderful Celtic tradition, a good time and a great way to connect with folks, your friends, family and neighbors. They're a wonderful way to bring worlds together, blending cultures and building appreciation for the other. We've been hosting them for many years now.

Another thing we  experimented with during our years facilitating the refuge faith community  ( a manageable sized house gathering) was using the ceilidh model for our communities gatherings. 'One brings a word one brings a song one brings a hymn..." In our present culture most people are used to observing not participating. By it's very nature the ceilidh is inclusive and interactive encouraging participation.

Many people generally expect christian gatherings to be pretty  much modeled after 'I come you speak i listen."

When we explore the dynamic of the early church there seems to be strong indication of what could be referred to as body ministry. The ceilidh model helps to facilitate an every body gets to play atmosphere.

Everyone can participate, everyone has space to interact. Everyone is encouraged to bring a word a song a hymn, share a story.. etc. The trick is in the facilitating. This is a great challenge and some times it's a little more work than simply leading a meeting. In the end the fruit can well out weigh the work. Besides it's just a lot of fun relationship building.


a living water from an ancient well repeat from 2008



 This is one of the most popular posts on the site for July Please feel free to leave comments.  Also if you found this useful or encouraging would appreciate if you'd consider following and  informing others about this blog.  Deep peace ... Brad

The Ceilidh

Ceilidh (prounced "kay-lee" is the Gaelic word for "visit", or an "informal gathering" ).

In the Irish and Scottish tradition a ceilidh is social a gathering with traditional music, storytelling or often dancing. It could be as simple as a gathering of people at someones home, or a gathering in a town hall. Everyone brings a little food, some libation and most importantly a couple songs or a story to share if they wish. In Cape Breton and in other parts of Nova Scotia these ceilidhs representing good food, drink, dancing, friends, and family are often referred to as kitchen parties.

I See His Blood

 

I see His Blood Upon the Rose,

I see his blood upon the rose
And in the stars the glory of his eyes,
His body gleams amid eternal snows,
His tears fall from the skies.

I see his face in every flower;
The thunder and the singing of the birds
Are but his voice – and carven by his power
Rocks are his written words.

All pathways by his feet are worn,
His strong heart stirs the ever-beating sea,
His crown of thorns is twined with every thorn,
His cross is every tree.

                  by Joseph Mary Plunkett

Joseph Mary Plunkett (1887 - 1916)

The Splender of God

The drunken stars stagger across the sky,
The moon wavers and sways like a wind-blown bud,
Beneath my feet the earth like drifting scud
Lapses and slides, wallows and shoots on high;
Immovable things start suddenly flying by,
The city shakes and quavers, a city of mud
And ooze—a brawling cataract is my blood
Of molten metal and fire—like God am I.

When God crushes his passion-fruit for our thirst
And the universe totters—I have burst the grape
Of the world, and let its powerful blood escape
Untasted—crying whether my vision durst
See God’s high glory in a girl’s soft shape—
                                                     God! Is my worship blessed or accurst?

 Joseph Mary Plunkett .was born in Dublin and educated at Catholic University School, Belvedere College and Stonyhurst College. For a while he was editor of the Irish Review. He was a close friend of Thomas MacDonagh and Padraic Pearse, noted Irish poets. Along with MacDonagh and Edward Martyn, he co-founded the Irish Theatre.

During the 1916 Rising he was one of the signers of the Proclamation of the Irish Republic. He was imprisoned by the English army in the Richmond Barracks. Shortly before his execution in the courtyard of Kilmainham jail, on the morning of May 4th, he married his fiance, Grace Gifford, in the jail's chapel. He died at the age of 28. One of the best known romantic tragedies, his marriage to Grace has become both song and fable.

His friend, Thomas MacDonagh was executed the day before. The interrelationships between the poets of Dublin emerge many times. Francis Ledwidge, another of the poets of the day, wrote a Lament to thomas MacDonagh. Joseph's father and brother John, who were also involved in the 1916 uprising, served ten years penal servitude. Joseph's wife, Grace, was also later imprisoned in the Kilmainham jail.
 

 Plunkett was deeply influenced  by his study of the mystics, including Saint John of the Cross, Saint Theresa of Avila and Saint Francis de Sales. His  poetry was published in two volumes: "The Circle and the Sword", in 1911 and the “Occulta", published posthumously. His sister, Geraldine Plunkett acted as editor and contributed a foreword.

Earth Day 2013

   



It is Thou
who givest the bright sun,
together with the ice;
It is Thou
who createdst the rivers
and the salmon in the river. 
That the nut-tree should be flowering, 
O Christ, 
it is a rare craft; 
through Thy skill too
comes the kernel, 
Thou fair ear of our wheat. 
Though the children of Eve
ill deserve 
the bird-flocks and the salmon, 
it was 
the Immortal One on the cross
who made 
both the salmon and the birds.
It is He 
who makes
the flower of the sloe grow through the bark of the blackthorm, 
and the nut-flower on the trees;
beside this, 
what miracle is greater?
 

TADHG ÓG Ó HUIGINN 

SIXTEENTH CENTURY

Easter Sunday (6)

Easter Day Breaks

 
Easter day breaks
Christs rises! Mercy every way is infinite-
Earth breaks up; time drops away;
In flows heaven with it's new day
Of endless life-
What is left for us save in growth
Of soul to rise up...
For the gift looking to the giver,
And the cistern to the river,
And from finite to infinity,
And from man's dust to God's divinity

Robert Browning

living water reprint

Good Friday (6)

 








Good Friday 

Am I a stone, and not a sheep,
That I can stand, O Christ, beneath Thy cross,
To number drop by drop Thy blood's slow loss,
And yet not weep?

Not so those women loved
Who with exceeding grief lamented Thee;
Not so fallen Peter weeping bitterly;
Not so the thief was moved;

Not so the Sun and Moon
Which hid their faces in a starless sky,
A horror of great darkness at broad noon--
I, only I.

Yet give not o'er,
But seek Thy sheep, true Shepherd of the flock;
Greater than Moses, turn and look once more
And smite a rock.

by Christina Georgina Rossetti (1830-1894)


living water reprint from 2008

Blessing of the New Year

 

GOD, bless to me the new day,
Never vouchsafed to me before;
It is to bless Thine own presence
Thou hast given me this time, O God.

Bless Thou to me mine eye,
May mine eye bless all it sees;
I will bless my neighbour,
May my neighbour bless me.

God, give me a clean heart,
Let me not from sight of Thine eye;
Bless to me my children and my wife,
And bless to me my means and my cattle.

From the  Carmina Gadelica, Volume 1,collected  by Alexander Carmicheal, [1900] THIS poem was repeated the first thing on the first day of the year. It was p. 159 common throughout the Highlands and Islands. The writer has heard versions of it in many places.

Mystical Verse (4)

Now Thank We Our God

1 Now thank we all our God
with heart and hands and voices,
who wondrous things has done,
in whom his world rejoices;
who from our mothers' arms
has blessed us on our way
with countless gifts of love,
and still is ours today.

2 O may this bounteous God
through all our life be near us,
with ever joyful hearts
and blessed peace to cheer us,
to keep us in his grace,
and guide us when perplexed,
and free us from all ills
of this world in the next.

3 All praise and thanks to God
the Father now be given,
the Son and Spirit blest,
who reign in highest heaven
the one eternal God,
whom heaven and earth adore;
for thus it was, is now,
and shall be evermore

                            Martin Rinckart 1586 - 1649