poem: from XAIPE

- e.e. cummings

i thank You God for most this amazing
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky;and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun's birthday; this is the birth
day of life and of love and wings:and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any - lifted from the no
of all nothing - human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

rendering unto Caesar, I suppose

Guess who just finished submitting all her tax returns.... whoo hoo. Every year I hit "submit" with the sneaking suspicion that I've done it wrong somehow, and this year is no exception, thanks to the whole "working-off-site" thing. Also, single-view instructions on my local tax form that meant I wound up guessing about which boxes to fill out. Thanks, Berkheimer! :(

This isn't exactly politics, but every year I find myself more irked by payroll taxes. If you're going to take it out of every paycheck, at least don't make me spend a day filling out additional forms with the threat of the IRS hanging over my head. I'll do the forms cheerfully if it means I get to hang onto my money throughout the year and only have to pay out in a lump sum at the end of it. Talk about the government having its cake and eating it too....

Anyhow. I know this place has been a bit of a ghost town this year, and I have to tell myself not to feel guilty about it; I've had longer and more complete hiatuses over the years. I'll come back to a more regular posting schedule eventually, just like I'll get around to replying to comments. It always happens eventually.... :P

Third Sunday in Easter

I know that my Redeemer lives!
What joy this blest assurance gives!
He lives, he lives, who once was dead;
he lives, my everliving head!

He lives to silence all my fears;
he lives to wipe away my tears;
he lives to calm my troubled heart;
he lives all blessings to impart.

He lives to grant me daily breath;
he lives, and I shall conquer death;
he lives, and while I live, I’ll sing;
he lives, my Prophet, Priest, and King!

He lives triumphant from the grave;
he lives eternally to save.
What joy this blest assurance gives:
I know that my Redeemer lives!

Praise God from whom all blessing flow;
praise him all him all creatures here below;
praise him above, ye heavenly host;
praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost!


Second Sunday in Easter

Welcome, happy morning!"
age to age shall say:
hell today is vanquished;
heav'n is won today.
Lo! the Dead is living,
God forevermore!
Him, their true Creator,
all his works adore.

Maker and Redeemer,
life and health of all,
thou, from heav'n beholding
human nature's fall,
of the Father's Godhead
true and only Son,
manhood to deliver,
manhood didst put on.

Thou, of life the author,
death didst undergo,
tread the path of darkness,
saving strength to show;
come then, True and Faithful,
now fulfil thy word,
'tis thine own third morning;
rise, O buried Lord!

Loose the souls long prisoned,
bound with Satan's chain;
thine that now are fallen
raise to life again;
show thy face in brightness,
bid the nations see;
bring again our daylight;
day returns with thee.

Easter Sunday

Thine be the glory, risen, conqu'ring Son;
endless is the vict'ry Thou o’er death hast won.
Angels in bright raiment rolled the stone away,
kept the folded grave-clothes where Thy body lay.
Thine be the glory, risen, conqu'ring Son;
endless is the vict'ry Thou o’er death hast won.

Lo, Jesus meets us, risen from the tomb.
Lovingly He greets us, scatters fear and gloom;
let His church with gladness hymns of triumph sing,
for the Lord now liveth; death hath lost its sting.

No more we doubt Thee, glorious Prince of life!
Life is nought without Thee; aid us in our strife;
make us more than conqu'rors, through Thy deathless love;
bring us safe through Jordan to Thy home above.


Holy Saturday

- Gerard Manley Hopkins

O Death, Death, He is come.
O grounds of Hell make room.
Who came from further than the stars
Now comes as low beneath.
Thy ribbèd ports, O Death
Make wide; and Thou, O Lord of Sin,
Lay open thine estates.
Lift up your heads, O Gates;
Be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors
The King of Glory will come in.