by Adelaide Anne Procter

What wouldst thou have, O soul
Thou weary soul?
Lo!   I have sought for rest
On the Earth’s heaving breast
From pole to pole.
Sleep—I have been with her,
But she gave dreams;
Death—nay, the rest he gives
Rest only seems.
Fair nature knows it not—
The grass is growing;
The blue air knows it not—
The winds are blowing:
Not in the changing sky,
The stormy sea—
Yet somewhere in God’s wide world
Rest there must be.
Within thy Saviour’s Heart
Place all thy care,
And learn, O weary soul,
Thy Rest is there.

What wouldst thou, trembling soul?
Strength for the strife—
Strength for this fiery war
That we call Life.
Fears gather thickly round;
Shadowy foes,
Like unto armed men,
Around me close.
What am I, frail and poor,
When griefs arise?
No help from the weak earth,
Or the cold skies.
Lo!   I can find no guards,
No weapons borrow,
Shrinking, alone I stand,
With mighty sorrow.
Courage, thou trembling soul,
Grief thou must bear,
Yet thou canst find a strength
Will match despair:
Within thy Saviour’s Heart—
Seek for it there.

What wouldst thou have, sad soul,
Oppressed with grief?—
Comfort: I seek in vain,
Nor find relief.
Nature, all pitiless,
Smiles on my pain ;
I ask my fellow-men,,
They give disdain.
I asked the babbling streams,
But they flowed on;
I asked the wise and good,
But they gave none.
Though I have asked the stars,
Coldly they shine,
They are too bright to know
Grief such as mine.
I asked for comfort still,
And I found tears,
And I have sought in vain
Long, weary years.
Listen, thou mournful soul,
Thy pain shall cease;
Deep in His sacred Heart,
Dwells joy and peace.

Yes, in that Heart divine,
The Angels bright
Find, through eternal years,
Still new delight.
From thence his constancy
The martyr drew,
And there the virgin band
Their refuge knew.
There, racked by pain without,
And dread within,
How many souls have found
Heaven’s bliss begin.
Then leave thy vain attempts
To seek for peace;
The world can never give
One soul release:
But in thy Saviour’s Heart
Securely dwell,
No pain can harm thee, hid
In that sweet cell.
Then fly, O coward soul,
Delay no more,
What words can speak the joy
For thee in store?
What smiles of earth can tell
Of peace like thine?
Silence and tears are best
For things divine.

By Michaela Youngson

When everything was dark
and it seemed that the sun would never shine again,
your love broke through.

Your love was too strong,
too wide,
too deep
for death to hold.

The sparks cast by your love
dance and spread
and burst forth
with resurrection light.

Gracious God,
We praise you for the light of new life
made possible through Jesus.
We praise you for the light of new life
that shone on the first witnesses of resurrection.
We praise you for the light of new life
that continues to shine in our hearts today.

We pray that the Easter light of life, hope and joy,
will live in us each day;
and that we will be bearers of that light
into the lives of others.

Amen.

from Jesuitinstitute.org

Ruth Temple Lindsay

“The Devil, as a roaring lion, goes about seeking whom he may devour.”

The Lion, he prowls far and near,
Nor swerves for pain or rue;
He heeds naught sloth nor fear,
He prowls—prowling through
The silent glade and weary street,
In the empty dark and the full noon heat;
And a little Lamb with aching feet—
He prowls too.

The Lion crouches alert, apart—
With patience does he woo;
He waits long by this shuttered heart,
And the Lamb—He waits too,
Up the lurid passes of dreams that kill,
Through the twisting maze of the great Untrue,
The Lion follows the fainting will—
And the Lamb—He follows too.

From the tickets dim of the hidden way
Where the depths of hell accrue,
The Lion leaps upon his prey:
But the Lamb—He leaps too.
Ah! loose the leash of the sins that damn,
Mark Devil and God as goals,
And the panting love of a famished Lamb,
Gone mad with the need of souls.

The Lion, he strays near and far;
What heights hath he left untrod?
He crawls nigh to the purest star,
On the trail of the saints of God.
And throughout the darkness of things unclean,
In the depths were the sin-ghouls brood,
There prowls ever with yearning mind–
A lamp as white as Blood!

Thorns prick, many deep and piercing,
Blood pooling, dark and dangerous cleansing,
Tired of running, tired of lying, tired of fear, turn away,
Delusion entrapping, sin builds upon sin, turn to a new way,
Psychic change pushing in further, revealing the wounds,
Essential essence, intrinsically individual, a bruise upon a bruise,
Investigate the pain, examine through and through patience and prayer,
From the inside out, to the outside in, looking about,
Not judging nor condemning one’s self, loving to the best of degrees,
Trusting without fear, abandoning the subtlest forms of pride,
Unafraid to be imperfect, understanding perfection arises only from imperfection,
A lotus plants roots in the mud,
The perfect needs not to be perfect,
The imperfect needs so many things,
A deeper revelation inevitable, thorns are necessary suffering,
Virtue builds upon virtue, constructing a high way,
God is good and all giving.