Sunday, December 26, 2010

More Things are Wrought By Prayer Than This World Dreams Of.


 At Mass this morning, our Deacon, Luke Yackley, quoted this poem. The quote is in red below.
I loved the passage at the time, and now even more in this context.
In the daily work and the ups and downs of life, at it's beginning and it's ending, prayer is the life line that we hold,
and the bond that draws us daily closer to the Father who loves us.
And in our love for each other, we should never forget to pray,
for every intention of all those we care about, and some we have to try to care about.
The whole poem can be found here.


From "Morte de Arthur" by Alfred Lord Tennyson:


And slowly answer'd Arthur from the barge:
"The old order changeth, yielding place to new,
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And God fulfils Himself in many ways,
Lest one good custom should corrupt the world.

Comfort thyself: what comfort is in me?

I have lived my life, and that which I have done
May He within Himself make pure! but thou,

If thou shouldst never see my face again,

Pray for my soul.
More things are wrought by prayer
Than this world dreams of.

Wherefore, let thy voice

Rise like a fountain for me night and day.

For what are men better than sheep or goats
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That nourish a blind life within the brain,
If, knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer

Both for themselves and those who call them friend?

For so the whole round earth is every way
Bound by gold chains about the feet of God.

But now farewell. I am going a long way

With these thou se√ęst--if indeed I go--

(For all my mind is clouded with a doubt)
To the island-valley of Avilion;
Where falls not hail, or rain, or any snow,
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Nor ever wind blows loudly; but it lies
Deep-meadow'd, happy, fair with orchard-lawns

And bowery hollows crown'd with summer sea,

Where I will heal me of my grievous wound."

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