Prayers and Poems

                                                You, who created everything

                                                You, who created everything,
                                                Sweet Father and our heavenly King,
                                                Hear, as I, your Son, implore:
                                                For Man this flesh and blood I bore.

                                                Bright and clear my breast and side,
                                                Till blood spilt over whiteness wide,
                                                From the wounded body crucified.

                                                Stiff and stark my long arms rise,
                                                Dimness and darkness shroud my eyes;
                                                And like cold marble hang my thighs.

                                                My feet are red with flowing blood,
                                                Their holes are washed through with that flood.
                                                Mercy on human sin, Father above!
                                                My wounds cry out to you in love.

                                                Anonymous (14th century)
                                                Translated by David Winter.

                                                The Gem

                                                Lord, take this raw material
                                                And shape this rough design,
                                                Fashion it and hone it into
                                                Something good and fine.
                                                Just as an uncut diamond has
                                                No beauty of its own,
                                                Make this dull unpolished gem
                                                Into a precious stone.

                                                For we are just the Potter's clay
                                                Upon the turning wheel,
                                                Unsculpted blocks of marble
                                                Untempered sheets of steel.
                                                So take out all the flecks and specks
                                                Just cleanse and purify,
                                                Remove the hidden faults and flaws
                                                So clear unto Your eye.

                                                And make us really pliable
                                                To fit into Your mould,
                                                For from refining fire
                                                Comes forth the purest gold.
                                                So let our lives be yielded to
                                                The pattern You have planned,
                                                Until at last we have become
                                                A jewel in Your hand.

                                                Anonymous

Christ the Hiding Place
prayer of Soren Kierkegaard (1813 – 1855)

The birds have their nests and the foxes their holes.  But you were homeless, Lord Jesus, with nowhere to rest your head.  And yet you were a hiding-place where the sinner could flee.  Today you are still such a hiding-place, and I flee to you.  I hide myself under your wings, and your wings cover the multitude of my sins.

The Ten Commandments
This rhyming version of the Ten Commandments, published, it is thought, by Isaac Watts in 1709, was still going strong some years ago.

                                                Thou shalt have no gods but Me.
                                                Before no idol bow thy knee.   
                                                Take not the name of God in vain,
                                                Nor dare the Sabbath Day profane.
                                                Give both thy parents honour due,
                                                Take heed that thou no murder do.
                                                Abstain from words and deeds unclean,
                                                Nor steal, though thou art poor and mean.
                                                Nor make a wilful lie, nor love it,
                                                What is thy neighbour's, do not covet.

                                                All snarled up

                                                With thoughtless and impatient hands,
                                                We tangle up the Plans the Lord hath wrought;
                                                And when we cry in pain, He saith,
                                                “Be quiet, while I untie the knot."

                                                Anonymous

                                                For you

                                                I prayed for you today
                                                But that is nothing new;
                                                I prayed for you yesterday
                                                And the day before that too.
                                                And I'll pray for you tomorrow
                                                Asking our Heavenly Father above,
                                                To ever bless and keep you
                                                In His warm and tender love.

                                                Firecloud

Go to Next Page

Go to Previous Page

Go to Index Page

Go to Home Page