Tag Archives: hope

The Larger Hope

Came across this selection from In Memoriam A.H.H., by Alfred, Lord Tennyson.  Terrific stuff – if you’ve never read the entire poem – it’s worth it.  It was a favorite of Queen Victoria, and considered by many among the greatest poems of the 19th century.  Guess it’s poetry week around here.

From Wikipedia:

It is a requiem for the poet’s Cambridge friend Arthur Henry Hallam, who died suddenly of a cerebral haemorrhage in Vienna in 1833. Because it was written over a period of 17 years, its meditation on the search for hope after great loss touches upon many of the most important and deeply-felt concerns of Victorian society. It contains some of Tennyson’s most accomplished lyrical work, and is an unusually sustained exercise in lyric verse. It is widely considered to be one of the great poems of the 19th century.

hands_hope

From In Memoriam by Alfred, Lord Tennyson:

Oh yet we trust that somehow good
Will be the final goal of ill,
To pangs of nature, sins of will,
Defects of doubt, and taints of blood;
 
That nothing walks with aimless feet,
That not one life shall be destroyed,
Or cast as rubble to the void,
When God has made the pile complete.

Behold, we know not anything,
I can but trust that good shall fall.
At last –far off– at last, to all,
And every winter change to spring
 
The wish, that of the living whole,
No life may fail beyond the grave,
Derives it not from what we have,
The likest God within the soul?

I stretch lame hands of faith, and grope
And gather dust and chaff, and call,
To what I feel is Lord of all,
And faintly trust the larger hope.

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Look To Tomorrow

I came across this poem shortly after our move to Washington, DC.  It was written by Pub Theology’s favorite poet, Chuck Trafelet, whose self-published collection of poetry was discovered in our previous home in Traverse City, MI.  Fitting for us at a number of levels, including (or especially) the title.  Picture me reading this in a house full of boxes on a cold November evening in an unfamiliar city where we’ve just uprooted the entire family, wondering what in the world we’ve done.

It was timely.

Neighborhood church, Washington, DC

Snow falls on a church in our neighborhood, Washington, DC

roots

as evening once again steals across the land
and midwinter cold settles in the bones
here so far from home and friends
beginning a new life – ending the old
bones, why do you pain me so
you know as well as I and better
we cannot turn back now
look to tomorrow bones
look to tomorrow

quiet now, for we can do as well here
and better in time
leave me rest, do not press me so
yesterday is gone
and today fades in the night
look to tomorrow, bones
look to tomorrow

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A Word to the ‘Elect’

Anne Brontë

A timely and hopeful poem, from Anne Brontë:

A Word to the ‘Elect’

You may rejoice to think yourselves secure,
You may be grateful for the gift divine –
That grace unsought, which made your black hearts pure,
And fits your earth-born souls in Heaven to shine.

But is it sweet to look around and view
Thousands excluded from that happiness,
Which they deserve at least as much as you,
Their faults not greater nor their virtues less?

And wherefore should you love your God the more
Because to you alone his smiles are given,
Because He chose to pass the many o’er,
And only bring the favoured few to Heaven?

And, wherefore should your hearts more grateful prove,
Because for ALL the Saviour did not die?
Is yours the God of justice and of love
And are your bosoms warm with charity?

Say, does your heart expand to all mankind?
And, would you ever to your neighbour do –
The weak, the strong, the enlightened, and the blind -
As you would have your neighbour do to you?

And, when you, looking on your fellow-men,
Behold them doomed to endless misery,
How can you talk of joy and rapture then? –
May God withhold such cruel joy from me!

That none deserve eternal bliss I know;
Unmerited the grace in mercy given:
But, none shall sink to everlasting woe,
That have not well deserved the wrath of Heaven.

And, Oh! there lives within my heart
A hope, long nursed by me;
(And, should its cheering ray depart,
How dark my soul would be!)

That as in Adam all have died,
In Christ shall all men live;
And ever round his throne abide,
Eternal praise to give.

That even the wicked shall at last
Be fitted for the skies;
And, when their dreadful doom is past,
To life and light arise.

I ask not, how remote the day,
Nor what the sinner’s woe,
Before their dross is purged away;
Enough for me, to know

That when the cup of wrath is drained,
The metal purified,
They’ll cling to what they once disdained,
And live by Him that died.

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