Aflame with faith, and free

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E a r l y   I n   T h e   M o u r n i n g

Elmwood Cemetery

Charlotte, North Carolina

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O God of earth and altar,

Bow down and hear our cry,

Our earthly rulers falter,

Our people drift and die;

The walls of gold entomb us,

The swords of scorn divide,

Take not thy thunder from us,

But take away our pride.

From all that terror teaches,

From lies of tongue and pen,

From all the easy speeches

That comfort cruel men,

From sale and profanation

Of honour and the sword,

From sleep and from damnation,

Deliver us, good Lord.

Tie in a living tether

The prince and priest and thrall,

Bind all our lives together,

Smite us and save us all;

In ire and exultation

Aflame with faith, and free,

Lift up a living nation,

A single sword to thee.

= G.K. Chesterton =

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Happy Wednesday

But for the common wages

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S o m e t h i n g   i s   M i s s i n g

Old Gray Cemetery

Knoxville, Tennessee

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In my craft or sullen art

Exercised in the still night

When only the moon rages

And the lovers lie abed

With all their griefs in their arms,

I labour by singing light

Not for ambition or bread

Or the strut and trade of charms

On the ivory stages

But for the common wages

Of their most secret heart.

Not for the proud man apart

From the raging moon I write

On these spindrift pages

Nor for the towering dead

With their nightingales and psalms

But for the lovers, their arms

Round the griefs of the ages,

Who pay no praise or wages

Nor heed my craft or art.

= Dylan Thomas =

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Happy Tuesday

And answer, echoes

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R e i g n i n g   F i r e

Elmwood Cemetery

Charlotte, North Carolina

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The splendour falls on castle walls

And snowy summits old in story:

The long light shakes across the lakes

and the wild cataract leaps in glory.

Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,

Blow, bugle; answer, echoes dying, dying, dying.

O hark, O hear! how thin and clear,

And thinner, clearer, farther going!

O sweet and far from cliff and scar

The horns of Elfland faintly blowing!

Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying,

Blow, bugle; answer, echoes dying, dying, dying.

O love they die in yon rich sky,

They faint on hill or field, or river:

Our echoes roll from soul to soul,

And grow forever and forever.

Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,

And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying.

= Alfred, Lord Tennyson =

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Happy Monday

With sweet manna all around

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P e a c e   o f   P l a c e

Elmwood Cemetery

Charlotte, North Carolina

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Brethren, we have met to worship

and adore the Lord our God

Will you pray with all your power

while we try to preach the word?

All is vain unless the spirit

of the Holy One come down

Brethren pray and holy manna

will be showered all around.

Brethren, see poor sinners round you

slumb'ring on the brink of woe

Death is coming, hell is moving

Can you bear to let them go?

See our fathers and our mothers

and our children sinking down

Brethren pray and holy manna

will be showered all around.

Sisters, will you join and help us?

Moses' sisters aided him

Will you help the trembling mourners

who are struggling hard with sin?

Tell them all about the Savior

Tell them that He will be found

Sisters, pray and holy manna

will be showered all around.

Is there here a trembling jailer

seeking grace, and filled with fears?

Is there here a weeping Mary

pouring forth a flood of tears?

Brethren, join your cries to help them

Sisters, let your prayers abound

Pray, oh pray that holy manna

may be scattered all around.

Let us love our God supremely

Let us love each other too

Let us love and pray for sinners

till our God makes all things new

Then He'll call us home to Heaven

At His table we'll sit down

Christ will gird Himself and serve us

with sweet manna all around.

= George Atkins =

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Now the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing,

that ye may abound in hope, through the power of the Holy Ghost.

Romans 15:13

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Happy Sunday

To share the happy years

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B e a u t y   D i e s   H a r d

Elmwood Cemetery

Charlotte, North Carolina

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And when October goes

The snow begins to fly

Above the smokey roofs

I watch the planes go by

The children running home

Beneath a twilight sky

Oh for the fun of them

When I was one of them

And when October goes

The same old dream appears

And you are in my arms

To share the happy years

I turn my head away

To hide the helpless tears

Oh how I hate to see

October go

I should be over it now I know

It doesn't matter much how old I grow

Oh how I hate to see

October go.

= Manilow / Mercer =

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Dedicated to the memory of

Walter "Sweetness" Payton

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Happy Saturday ~ Happy November