Friday, November 2, 2012

Life, and Other Prayers XIII

The Throng of the Blessed

Let us rejoice with Heaven above! Sing praises to God,
o New Jerusalem! Take rest from your noble toils,
which raise high the golden spires of our Mother City,
give thanks and prostrate yourself as blessed throng!

Forsooth the Beloved Prophet who seen the days
to come, beheld the saintly fortitude of men and women
like you and I, who gave their sin up to the Lord, washed
clean their soul in unsoiled Blood, which brighten us.

Behold, all ye wicked of the world! Repent and be who
we always were: the blessed of God destined for Heaven,
who by His Creation granted onto us privilege of free
will, capable of loving, capable of affirming His Will.

Yea, though sinking into sin, the Lord in awesome
humility hath descended, taken the life-giving Cross,
reaffirmed and defended our right to affirm, accept
the light of eternal life, even at the tribunal of death.

For who but Dismas crossed with Christ into Paradise
that day, followed by the whole of Israel made perfect
by the Perfect Sacrifice? Amen, I say, the clemency
of God is unlike that of men, as rare as free gold.

Was the gold that men so worship ever alive? Did it
bear the breath of life in its cold lump? It is rather
the earth and its salt from which life touched by God
hath sprung, plentiful in the bosom of the Lord.

The Senate of God is not a handful, who hold a
morsel of power over men, but instead it is the
princely plebs that holds sway over self, and shares
in authority over universe, firm from the Author’s hand.

The coin of God is not the dead metal, but living
charity, received and scarce repaid, a debt unsatisfied
yet forgiven with joy. Amen, no bondage exists there,
where men like play unlimit themselves in generosity.

The house of God is filled with every chamber,
a dwelling prepared from the foundation of the world,
and the joy of Heaven is incomplete without full
complement of God’s children, waiting for us.

Hear the mighty cheer of Godly host in your
slumber, but shake of sloth and forge ahead with
sure and guided step, this holy consent you grant
with love to arrive home, at last, before our Parent.

No comments:

Post a Comment