My Favorite Spiritual Poem

I have two young boys, I like this one:Last night my little boy confessed to meSome childish wrong;And kneeling at my knee,He prayed with tears-"Dear God, make me a manLike Daddy-wise and strong;I know you can."Then while he sleptI knelt beside his bed,Confessed my sins,And prayed with low-bowed head."O God, make me a childLike my child here-Pure, guileless,Truting Thee with faith sincere."-Andrew Gillies

Love bade me welcome; yet my soul drew back,Guilty of dust and sin.But quick-eyed Love, observing me grow slackFrom my first entrance in,Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning,If I lacked anything. A guest, I answered, worthy to be here:Love said, You shall be he.I, the unkind, ungrateful? Ah, my dear,I cannot look on thee.Love took my hand, and smiling did reply,Who made the eyes but I? Truth, Lord, but I have marr'd them: let my shameGo where it doth deserve.And know you not, says Love, who bore the blame?My dear, then I will serve.You must sit down, says Love, and taste my meat:So I did sit and eat.George Herbert, The Temple, 1633

ETERNAL POWER!Eternal Power, whose high abode Becomes the grandeur of a God:Infinite lengths beyond the bounds Where stars revolve their little rounds:Thee while the first archangel sings, He hides his face behind his wings:And ranks of shining thrones around Fall worshipping, and spread the ground.Lord, what shall earth and ashes do?We would adore our Maker too;From sin and dust to Thee we cry, The Great, the Holy, and the High.Earth, from afar, hath heard Thy fame, And worms have learn’d to lisp Thy Name;But Oh! the glories of Thy mind Leave all our soaring thoughts behind.God is in heaven, and men below:Be short our tunes; our words be few:A solemn reverence checks our songs, And praise sits silent on our tongues.ISAAC WATTS, 1674-1748

If a written prayer counts among poems, this is my absolute favourite:Majesty unspeakable, my soul desires to behold Thee. I cry to Thee from the dust.Yet when I inquire after Thy name it is secret. Thou art hidden in the light which no man can approach unto. What Thou art cannot be thought or uttered, for Thy glory is ineffable.Still, prophet and psalmist, apostle and saint have encouraged me to believe that I may in some measure know Thee. Therefore, I pray, whatever of Thyself Thou hast been pleased to disclose, help me to search out as treasure more precious than rubies or the merchandise of fine gold: for with Thee shall I live when the stars of the twilight are no more and the heavens have vanished away and only Thou remainest. Amen.

O sacred head, now wounded,with grief and shame weighed down,now scornfully surroundedwith thorns Thy only crown;How art Thou pale with anguish,with sore abuse and scorn!How does that visage languishwhich once was bright as morn!What Thou, my Lord, hast sufferedwas all for sinners' gain:Mine, mine was the transgression,but Thine the deadly pain.Lo, here I fall my Savior!'Tis I deserve Thy place;look on me with Thy favor;vouch-safe to me Thy grace.What language shall I borrowto thank Thee, dearest friend,for this Thy dying sorrow,Thy pity without end?O make me Thine forever!And should I fainting be,Lord, let me never, neveroutlive my love to Thee!~Bernard of Clairvaux~ (1091-1153)

O Love that wilt not let me go,I rest my weary soul in thee;I give thee back the life I owe,That in thine ocean depths its flowMay richer, fuller be.O light that followest all my way,I yield my flickering torch to thee;My heart restores its borrowed ray,That in thy sunshine's blaze its dayMay brighter, fairer be.O Joy that seekest me through pain,I cannot close my heart to thee;I trace the rainbow through the rain,And feel the promise is not vain,That morn shall tearless be.O Cross that liftest up my head,I dare not ask to fly from thee;I lay in dust life's glory dead,And from the ground there blossoms redLife that shall endless be.George Matheson