Core: noun, the most important part of a thing, the essence; from the Latin cor, meaning heart.

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 Volume 2.14 This View’s Poetry December 9, 2002 


    Dies Irae    
         
   

That day of wrath, that dreadful day,
When heaven and earth shall pass away,
What power shall be the sinner’s stay?
How shall he meet that dreadful day?

When, shrivelling like a parched scroll,
The flaming heavens together roll;
When louder yet, and yet more dread,
Swells the high trump that wakes the dead;

Oh! on that day, that wrathful day,
When man to judgement wakes from clay,
Be THOU the trembling sinner’s stay,
Though heaven and earth shall pass away!

   
         
    Sir Walter Scott (1771-1832)    
    Poetry for the Soul (1995) p. 502
ed. Mary Batchelor
   

    If He Should Come    
         
   

If he should come tomorrow, the Meek and Lowly One,
To walk familiar pathways beneath an older sun,
What king would hail his coming, what seer proclaim his birth,
If he should come tomorrow, would he find faith on earth?

If he should come tomorrow, what marvels would he see,
White wings that soar the heavens, great ships that sail the sea,
A million spires arising to praise his holy name,
But human hearts unchastened, and human greed the same.

As in the days of Herod, the money-changers still
In God’s own House contriving against the Father’s will;
His messengers in exile, corruption on the throne,
And all the little company disbanded and alone.

Oh, let him come in glory with all the powers of God,
Begirt with shining legions to rule with iron rod,
Till greed be purged forever from out the souls of men;
Lest he who comes tomorrow be crucified again!

   
         
    Lilith Lorraine (fl. twentieth century)    
    Masterpieces of Religious Verse (1948) # 614
ed. James Dalton Morrison
   

    The Masked Ball    
         
   

The heralds of dawn are blowing at the last star;
When it goes out the masks will come off
And the dancers will lean homeward on their weariness.

All who dance at the Ball of Life are masked
Save the children and the poets and dreamers
And a few old men and women.

Sometimes a daring soul tugs at his mask;
And the smart young fellows chide him and he hesitates,
And the gay young ladies taunt him and he desists.

No man can see God through a mask;
No man can enter Heaven who is masked;
But God and Heaven are small things at the Masked Ball.

When the masks are tossed away I shall see
The lovely, grown hideous—the hideous, lovely.
O, the joy when I shall behold nakedness of soul!

Then shall I observe the courage of the coward
And the timidity of the brave man.
O, the joy when I shall behold nakedness of soul!

Then shall I discover the purity of harlots
And the lewdness of men at their morning prayers.
O, the joy when I shall behold nakedness of soul!

A mask is a hiding-place from truth,
From virtue, from honor:
It hates the nudity of love and the nakedness of kindness.

At the Masked Ball the false are the proudest
Of flesh, and their limbs are all beauty—
Their breasts are abundant, their fingers are tapered.

But when the masks are torn from their eyes
Their flesh will be foul and their limbs will be laggard,
And their breasts will be milkless and withered.

If Jesus should come to-day He would say:
“Tear off the masks.”
And the Pharisees would lift another cross against the sky.

Masks, masks, masks!
How He hated them—this Man of the Desert
Who came once and danced with us at the Masked Ball.

Comrades, I warn you the Masked Ball is near an end—
The heralds of dawn are blowing at the last star;
When it goes out the masks will come off
And the dancers will lean homeward on their weariness.

   
         
    Wilson MacDonald (b. 1880)    
    Masterpieces of Religious Verse (1948) # 1569
ed. James Dalton Morrison
   

    Advent Hymn    
         
   

      Lord, come away!
      Why dost thou stay?
Thy road is ready; and thy paths made straight
   With longing expectations wait
The consecration of thy beauteous feet.
   Ride on triumphantly; behold we lay
   Our lusts and proud will in thy way!

Hosanna! Welcome to our hearts! Lord, here
Thou hast a temple too; and full as dear
As that of Sion, and as full of sin:
Nothing but thieves and robbers dwell therein:
Enter, and chase them forth, and cleanse the floor:
Crucify them, that they may never more
      Profane that holy place
   Where thou hast chose to set thy face!
   And then if our stiff tongues shall be
      Mute in the praises of thy deity,
      The stones out of the temple wall
         Shall cry aloud and call
Hosanna! And thy glorious footsteps greet!

   
         
    Jeremy Taylor (1613-1667)    
    Poetry for the Soul (1995) p. 498
ed. Mary Batchelor
   

    Advent    
         
   

O Lord, my years grow long,
      my time short:
Let me make haste with my repentance
      and bow head and heart:
Let me not stay one day from amendment,
      lest I stay too long:
Let me cease without delay
      to love my own mischief,
and abandon without a backward look
      the unfruitful works of darkness.

Lord, grant me new watchfulness
      to lay hold upon opportunity of good:
Make me at last put on
      the whole armour of light:
Rank me among them who work for their Lord,
      loins girded, lamps burning,
            till the night shall pass
                  and the true light shine.

Let me sing the new song,
      following the Lamb whithersoever he goeth,
      loving wheresoever he loveth,
      doing whatsoever he biddeth,
            unto the perfect day
                  and for ever and ever.

   
         
    Eric Milner-White (1884-1963)    
    My God, My Glory (1994) p. 16
ed. Joyce Huggett
   

    Triad    
         
    From the Silence of Time, Time’s Silence borrow.
In the heart of To-day is the word of To-morrow.
The Builders of Joy are the Children of Sorrow.
   
         
    William Sharp (1856-1902)    
   

Oxford Book of English Mystical Verse p. 400
ed. D. H. S. Nicholson and A. H. E. Lee

   



 Volume 2.14 This View’s Poetry December 9, 2002 





The View from the Core, and all original material, © 2002 E. L. Core. All rights reserved.

Cor ad cor loquitur J. H. Newman — “Heart speaks to heart”