Monthly Archives: February 2025

The rose that cannot wither.

poetry,

PEACE

My Soul, there is a country
Afar beyond the stars,
Where stands a winged sentry
All skillful in the wars;
There, above noise and danger
Sweet Peace sits, crown’d with smiles,
And One born in a manger
Commands the beauteous files.
He is thy gracious friend
And (O my Soul awake!)
Did in pure love descend,
To die here for thy sake.
If thou canst get but thither,
There grows the flow’r of peace,
The rose that cannot wither,
Thy fortress, and thy ease.
Leave then thy foolish ranges,
For none can thee secure,
But One, who never changes,
Thy God, thy life, thy cure.

-Henry Vaughan

 

 

 

 

Love’s triad confronts modern man.

love, quotes, work, , , , ,

This very meditative homily on the words of St. Paul, when he wrote about faith, hope and love, I found to be truly rich and encouraging. Father Patrick Reardon points out in his sermon the strange reductions of St. Paul’s teachings that came from various Christians writing many centuries after the apostle’s letters were circulating among the churches.

In fact, it can only be theoretical to separate love from hope and faith, as St. Paul does in I Corinthians 13, for the purpose of making clear that love is preeminent; true love is not manifested without faith and hope. We also learn in this Bible lesson of another fruit of the Spirit that makes up a second triad of virtues, further fleshing out the reality of what it means to live in love. The interrelated meanings of the several words and their contexts lift one’s mind right up to the throne of God where the Three Persons live eternally in Love, a Love in which we are invited to partake.

If you are interested in further contemplation about this Love that originates in the Holy Trinity, and how it contrasts with Faust, or is described by Dante, you will want to listen to the 16-minute talk on the Ancient Faith site here:  “The Supremacy of Love,”  or by means of the direct MP3 file linked at top.

Happy Valentine’s Day!

And then my feet know it.

nature, poetry,

BOUNDARIES

There is a place where the town ends
and the fields begin.
It’s not marked but the feet know it,
also the heart, that is longing for refreshment
and, equally, for repose.

Someday we’ll live in the sky.
Meanwhile, the house of our lives is the world.
The fields, the ponds, the birds.
The thick black oaks — surely they are the
children of God.
The feistiness among the tiger lilies,
the hedges of runaway honeysuckle, that no one owns.

Where is it? I ask, and then
my feet know it.

One jump, and I’m home.

-Mary Oliver

Paul Lecomte, Frankrijk