Monday, August 27, 2012
O happy day that this should pass,
The aging body decays too fast.
Yet while our hearts remain at mass,
Our souls transport us all at last
Into the present, the love of God,
Out poured for us, our life, our laud.
Yet why should I begin to speak,
Should sing this praise upon your wall?
Should give this insight to the meek?
To one who is prone at night to fall?
Why should I speak these words of bliss?
These morsels of truth, hidden light.
Why give them here for you to miss?
Will you, in them, take delight?
No surety may you give me,
No certainty may I receive.
But hope in these I may free
Myself from thoughts which do deceive.
And so I leave you, heart and soul,
With words that give to God control,
Of every single word and thought,
A surety that all men, women, ought
To take seriously in time,
As certain as these words do rhyme.
And now I take my leave of you,
Dear friend, dear woman of God.
I wish you peace, be ever true,
Pray for me, poor man, this sod.
On this day you were given life.
As life begins within the mass,
May you be freed from temporal strife,
And radiate God's love, as glass.
Be to others as you should,
A light, a hope, a love that's good.
Now end I this discourse, this rant,
Return I now, for I am an ant...
Little does the mind now see,
It only hopes in eternity.
And from this hope springs peace and love,
A wellspring, a font, from heaven above.
I wish it to you, I truly do,
I pray you live, to Christ be true.
And if in time a man may woo your heart,
May open up his soul to thine,
May he and you, to God impart
A desire for his ardent love divine.
Wishful Thinking (c) Luke Bennette, August 2012