Mystic Harmony

 

1. For the joy of ear and eye,
   for the heart and mind’s delight,
   for the mystic harmony
   linking sense to sound and sight,
   Lord of all, to thee we raise
   this our hymn of grateful praise.
2. For the joy of human love,
   brother, sister, parent, child,
   friends on earth and friends above,
   for all gentle thoughts and mild,
   Lord of all, to thee we raise
   this our hymn of grateful praise.
3. For thyself, best gift divine,
   to our race so freely giv’n,
   for that great, great love of thine,
   peace on earth and joy in heav’n.
   Lord of all, to thee we raise
   this our hymn of grateful praise.

by Folliott S. Pierpoint

Elsewhere

 The runners sliced through the snow and the wind whipped at his face as they sped in a straight line through and incision that seemed to lead to the final destination, the place that he had always felt was waiting, the Elsewhere that held their future and their past. 

He forced his eyes open as they went downwards, downwards, sliding, and all at once he could see lights, and he recognised them now. He knew they were shining through the windows of rooms, that they were the red, blue and yellow lights that twinkled from trees in places where families created and kept memories, where they celebrated love. 

Downwards, downwards, faster and faster. Suddenly he was aware with certainty and joy that below, ahead, they were waiting for him; and that they were waiting, too, for the baby.  For the first time, he heard something that he knew to be music. He heard people singing.

Behind him, across vast distances of space and time, from the place he had left, he thought he heard music too. But perhaps it was only an echo. 

~The Giver

by Lois Lowry

Up-Hill

 

Up-Hill

By Christina Rossetti

Does the road wind up-hill all the way?

   Yes, to the very end.

Will the day’s journey take the whole long day?

   From morn to night, my friend.

But is there for the night a resting-place?

   A roof for when the slow dark hours begin.

May not the darkness hide it from my face?

   You cannot miss that inn.

Shall I meet other wayfarers at night?

   Those who have gone before.

Then must I knock, or call when just in sight?

   They will not keep you standing at that door.

Shall I find comfort, travel-sore and weak?

   Of labour you shall find the sum.

Will there be beds for me and all who seek?

   Yea, beds for all who come.