Posts Tagged: Prayer

Through the darkness and mystery – Leunig

Notre chemin de vérité de Michael Leuning

La version française suit le texte en anglais

Happy New Year! / Bonne Année !

Collégiale Saint-Gervais-Saint-Protais de Gisors

 

Ein Frohes Neues Jahr!
Godt Nyttår!

Marvel in the gift of the world

Let your heart be filled with wonder

In company in the blue abyss

And draw us near, And bind us tight… with Leonard Cohen

 


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These are the words of Leonard Cohen to introduce If It Be Thy Will

"It was a while ago faced with some obstacles that I wrote a song, well it’s more of a prayer and I’ll give you the first few lines and then Neil Larsen on the NNB3 and the Webb sisters will unfold the song
If it be your will that I speak no more
And my voice be still as it was before,
I will speak no more
I shall abide until I am spoken for
If it be your will,
If it be your will that a voice be true
From this broken hill, I will sing to you
From this broken hill, all your praises they shall ring
If it be your will to let me sing"

My voice be still as it was before is in a way where we are, Leonard Cohen's voice is now still but in this song he already invited others to unfold his prayer for him, now is the time he was spoken for and that we pick up his prayer with our own true voice from our own broken place let us unfold the prayer...
"...If it be your will
If there is a choice
Let the rivers fill
Let the hills rejoice
Let your mercy spill
On all these burning hearts in hell
If it be your will
To make us well

And draw us near
And bind us tight
All your children here
In their rags of light
In our rags of light
All dressed to kill
And end this night
If it be your will"

Love-Laden Keening: All Souls Day

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"We sing for a moment, not only with the angels, but with those whom we have loved and see no longer, those with whom we are still bound together in the communion of saints..."

Read more here: the sonnet and introduction by Malcolm Guite that have inspired me to create this picture Sanctus, Sanctus, Sanctus: A Requiem Sonnet for All Souls Day.

Séraphin de Sarov

Серафим Саровский

Séraphin ou Seraphim de Sarov, né Prokhore Isidorovitch Mochnine à Koursk le 19 juillet 1754 (ou 1759) et mort au monastère de Sarov le 2 janvier 1833, est un saint orthodoxe. Sa fête est le 2 janvier, ainsi que le 19 juillet.

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Songs set to photographs: a challenge

Continuing to put Malcolm Guite's beautiful songs on YouTube with photographs.
His songs are so full of images, it seems a real challenge.
But I do what I did with some of his poems before, I just listen to the feelings that those images summon up for me and then choose photographs in what I have. Sometimes I will take a picture specifically or make a composite picture but I try to not make it too busy so the beauty of the song remains central.

Redemption Song (A song for Ruth)

Sing a song of sowing
Carrying the seed
A song of hopeful planting
To meet a future need
Sing a song of letting go
And falling to the ground
Of burying that feels like loss
Still waiting to be found

There are no songs of famine
Hunger has no voice
The poor must scavenge what they can
While the rich are spoiled for choice
The stones of fear and anger
Will strike you from behind
Hunger hates the stranger
And cleaves to his own kind

Sing a song of exile
Loneliness and loss
A song of broken bridges
Nobody can cross
A song of desperation
For a word you can understand
A song of fearful labour
On someone else’s land

Then sing a song of marriage
The grace of bride and groom
The fruitful vine around the door
Joy within the room
A song of love and longing
For the children yet to be
A quiver-full of future hopes
Aimed at eternity

Sing a song of mourning
The shadows and the tombs
The bitterness of broken hearts
And disappointed wombs
Sing a song of empty words
And unexpressed despair
Of reaching out at midnight
For the one who isn’t there

Sing a song of waiting
Weeping on the earth
A song of expectation
Longing for new birth
Sing a song of patience
Of watching through the night
Sing those hours before the dawn
Then sing the coming light

Sing a song of harvest
Of one who bind the sheaves
And one who gleans along the edge
The good another leaves
Sing a song of winnowing
And taking into store
Of Barley heaped like glowing gold
All on the threshing floor

Sing out before the Lord of Life
Your songs of joy and pain
Sing of the years the locusts ate
That cannot come again
Sing to Him your hopes and fears
Your tales of right and wrong
And He will make your voice a part
Of His Redemption Song

©Malcolm Guite 2011
From the album "Dancing through the fire"
Cambridge Riffs Records
www.cambridgeriffs.co.uk/records

PHOTOGRAPHS
©Margot Krebs Neale
www.margot-krebs-neale.co.uk

Holy Cross Day

I am borrowing Malcolm Guite's description of Holy Cross Day and one of his poems from the Sonnets of the Cross in Sounding the Seasons; seventy Sonnets for the Christian Year Canterbury Press 2012

"Today, is Holy Cross day. It originally commemorated the day when Helena the Mother of Constantine was believed to have found the true cross, astonishing the inhabitants of Jerusalem by searching the rubbish tip of Golgotha and, on unearthing this discarded sign of shame, exalting it as the greatest treasure on earth. But this festival has become since then a day when any of us can again find the cross, still a discarded sign of shame, and find in it the greatest treasure and the source of grace."

The painting is by Alexandra Drysdale

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A sonnet by Malcolm Guite on Holy Cross Day

I JESUS IS GIVEN HIS CROSS

He gives himself again with all his gifts
And now we give him something in return.
He gave the earth that bears, the air that lifts,
Water to cleanse and cool, fire to burn,
And from these elements he forged the iron,
From strands of life he wove the growing wood,
He made the stones that pave the roads of Zion
He saw it all and saw that it is good.
We took his iron to edge an axe’s blade,
We took the axe and laid it to the tree,
We made a cross of all that he has made,
And laid it on the one who made us free.
Now he receives again and lifts on high
The gifts he gave and we have turned awry.

p1030799smMalcolm Guite, the poet and Alexandra Drysdale, the painter. Michaelhouse, Cambridge, Easter 2011