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.
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