Prayers and Poems

                                                            The Bells

                                                I heard the bells on Christmas Day
                                                Their old, familiar carols play,
                                                And wild and sweet the words repeat
                                                Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

                                                            Longfellow

                                                     Moonless Darkness

                                                Moonless darkness stands between.
                                                Past, the Past, no more be seen!
                                                But the Bethlehem-star may lead me
                                                To the sight of him who freed me
                                                From the self that I have been.
                                                Make me pure, Lord: thou art holy;
                                                Make me meek, Lord: thou were lowly;
                                                Now beginning, and always:
                                                Now begin, on Christmas day.

                                                            Gerard Manley Hopkins

                                            A prayer from Papyri - Helper of Men

This prayer, found during an archaeological excavation, is very early, probably between second and fourth century.

                                                Helper of men who turn to you,
                                                Light of men in the dark,
                                                Creator of all that grows from seed,
                                                Promoter of all spiritual growth,
                                                Have mercy, Lord, on me.
                                                And make me a temple fit for you.
                                                Do not look too closely at my sins,
                                                For if you are quick to notice my faults
                                                I shall not dare to appear before you.
                                                In your great mercy,
                                                In your boundless love,
                                                Wash away my sins
                                                By the hands of Jesus Christ,
                                                Your only child, the chief healer of souls.

                                                            Christmas

                                                An azure sky,
                                                All star bestrewn.
                                                A lowly crib,
                                                A hushed room.
                                                An open door,
                                                A hill afar,
                                                Where little lambs
                                                And shepherds are.
                                                To such a world,
                                                On such a night,
                                                Came Jesus –
                                                Little Lord of Light.

                                                     Mary I.

                                                        The Oxen

                                                Christmas Eve, and twelve of the clock.
                                                “Now they are all on their knees,”
                                                An elder said as we sat in a flock
                                                By the embers in fireside ease.
                                                We pictured t he meek mild creatures where
                                                They dwelt in their strawy pen,
                                                Nor did it occur to one of us there
                                                To doubt they were kneeling then.
                                                So fair a fancy few would weave
                                                In these years! Yet, I feel,
                                                If someone said on Christmas Eve,
                                                “Come; see the oxon kneel
                                                “In the lonely barton by yonder coomb
                                                Our childhood used to know,”
                                                I should go with him in the gloom,
                                                Hoping it might be so.

                                                             Thomas Hardy

                                                Is anything too hard for God to do?

                                                Is anything too hard for God to do?
                                                Is any prayer too much for God to hear?
                                                Is any load too great for him to bear?
                                                Is God able for each test and fear?
                                                So often it’s when problems come our way
                                                We see our need and quickly turn to him.
                                                We’ve long neglected what God says, and yet
                                                Expect that He will deal with every whim.
                                                Yet, God is good and doesn’t turn away.
                                                He calls to us, invites us to come near.
                                                He longs that we should come and ask of him
                                                He longs to turn to us the listening ear.
                                                What is it that deprives us of our joy?
                                                What is it that deprives our peace within?
                                                What causes us to feel our need of help?
                                                Sorrows, sickness, stresses, fears and sin.
                                                Did Christ not promise peace unto his own?
                                                Did God, in power, not raise him from the grave?
                                                Are sicknesses beyond his reach of power?
                                                Are they so great that Jesus cannot save?
                                                Did He not say, ‘Come unto me and rest’?
                                                Did He not promise to provide for need?
                                                Can He not wash our every sin away?
                                                Will He not go before his own and lead?
                                                God is almighty and He knows our cares.
                                                Creator and Sustainer, yet our friend.
                                                Nothing is ever greater than his grace.
                                                He gives to us his presence to the end.
                                                If God loves us enough to give his Son
                                                Then in all else He’ll gladly see us through.
                                                Will you not trust him, then, with every care
                                                For nothing is too hard for God to do.

                                                         Rev James A McMaster

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