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A LITTLE BOOK OF PRAYERS AND PRAISES

TO THE GOD OF LIFE

(after the celtic)

A...

A PRAYER FOR A MODERN MAN -

THAT HE MIGHT RETURN UNTO LIFE

A SONG BY OLD JOHNNY CRICKET

A VOW AND DECLARATION

B...

BLESSINGS IN THE LONG NIGHT

OF THE CHIEF SHEPARD

C...

CONCERNING WOMEN BEARING THE LOAD OF IT

H...

HOW BEAUTIFUL IT WOULD BE

I...

I'LL BE A WRITEN JUST FOR THE JOY OF IT

JOHNNY CRICKET

IT IS RIGHT THAT I COME TO MY KNEES

NIGHT AND DAY

O...

ON INIS MOR

ON THE LONG NIGHT

P...

PRAYING A BLESSING UPON ME

W...

WHO STANDS BY MY BED?

WE MUST DESIRE BLESSINGS... AND TO BLESS

WHY SHOULD WE ENVY THE DEAD?

Last Poem:

CONCERNING WOMEN BEARING THE LOAD OF IT

THE POEMS:

WHO STANDS BY MY BED?

Who stands by my bed

when I lie down to sleep?

The golden haired angel--

the joy of her Lord.

Who lies in my bed all through the night?

The fair Bride and her sister--

dark haired and wayward.

Who smiles as they peek up into my dreams?

The beautiful lady holding her lambkin.

Who bids me arise to embrace the day?

The Lord of sparrows, the God of thunder.

A VOW AND DECLARATION

I am the flaming Lord's child:

I swear it by the bridles

of all spirited horses;

I swear it by the breasts

of all gentle women.

WE MUST DESIRE BLESSINGS... AND TO BLESS

How else shall the two worlds

draw close, one to the other,

except through the ruminations of our hearts

and the blessings of our lips

and the deeds of our bodies

in mercies and in graces.

We must desire blessings...

and to bless.

To bless the cow in the field

in its nibbling and munching;

to bless the bird in the tree

in its flitting and singing;

to bless the bear in the woods

in its rummaging and grunting;

to bless the horse in the meadow

in its cantering and grazing;

to bless the mole in the earth

in its digging and listening.

We must bless the green plants

in their growing and seeding;

mother trees upon mountains

in their spreading and shaking;

clouds of the sky

in their drifting and sifting;

winds in their mischievous freedoms...

The sun we must bless in its strong constancy;

the moon in its shadows and glimmering;

and the uncountable stars in their

sheer glistening.

And we must bless ourselves

and our neighbors and all whom we love:

woman for their soft strength

in nurturing and folding;

men in their labors and harsh loving,

in warring, and thrusting;

nuzzling and lusting.

And the children, oh children

in their sweet dance

and weeping,

their exploring and nestling.

And we must bless all those

who offend us:

bless them in their harshness to become kind;

bless them in their cruelty to be forgiving;

bless them in their rage to heal the wounds;

bless them in their ill temper and injustice--

blessed to see the beauty,

blessed to be saved from our petty dislike.

*

How else shall the two worlds

draw close, one to the other,

except through the ruminations of our hearts

and the blessings of our lips

and the deeds of our bodies

in mercies and graces.

By the glad Lady and her Son,

it is we ourselves

who must desire blessings

and to bless

in rare mercies and sweet graces.

Amen.

BLESSINGS IN THE LONG NIGHT

OF THE CHIEF SHEPARD

In the long night

when the Shepherd was gone,

when the Chief Shepherd

went to make ready His feast,

shackles and bridles,

hobbles and halters

where thrown upon

all the King's horses

and lambies and cows.

His horses no longer gambled,

while lambies ceased their nibblings,

and His cows gave a pittance

of their honied cream:

My heart's sails folded

within a bad dream.

Sing a song to animals

who've been roughshod

in cramped fields

where so many items

now clutter the ground

that grass grows scantly 'round

and weeds flourish shamelessly.

In that long night

when the shepherd was gone,

only in a hallowed place

was He to be found:

where the frankincense burnt

upon a white stone,

where words held sweet waters

and the candled light glowed.

And sometimes, in singing prayers,

that King of the radiant sun came near,

the King of the changing moon drew near,

the King of shimmering stars was here,

and whistled and whispered in an old cow's ear.

The honied milk flowed,

the grass grew--

my heart sipped

and billowed.

A PRAYER FOR A MODERN MAN -

THAT HE MIGHT RETURN UNTO LIFE

God of rain drops,

God of light,

God of dog barks

and chicken's scratching,

God of lambie's nibblings

and cow's lowing,

bring me back

from errant ways

unto the bosom of your silence,

unto the quiet of your love:

unto singing and loosing;

unto nurturing and rousting;

unto weeping and laughing;

unto sweetening the miseries,

and dowsing the mysteries

while lifting the charms;

unto breaking the bridles

and burning the litter,

unto the candle's shining

on round sacred bread,

unto songs and supplications,

unto the brown smoke's driftings,

unto veils lifting,

unto the sun's peerings,

and the arching wings,

unto golden boxes,

and blooming branches,

unto visions and wonders,

in the name of the High King

and the Bride of wild virtues.

Amen.

WHY SHOULD WE ENVY THE DEAD?

We who are with God

must never be ashamed

or in despair

for we are held in the hand

of the King of the sun

and stars,

green fields

and desert stones,

the fire in our stoves

and water in our pots,

the High Lord of pain

and quizzical pleasures,

of the axe to the tree

and gentle breasts,

of weeping and dancing.

We are held by the Feast-Master!

Why should we envy

the dead?

Why should we envy

errant souls?

Why should we envy

the dead?

PRAYING A BLESSING UPON ME

Oh great God, Holy one

in community,

Father, High King, Holy Mothering,

bless with good progress

my life's journey to thee,

that I might hear

the "Well done,"

from your own fat and fluid lips,

that I might feel

your hands of bestowing

on my bowed head,

and your thumb might lift my chin

until I gaze into your

infinite blessings.

Amen.

HOW BEAUTIFUL IT WOULD BE

How beautiful it would be

for fathers to lay their hands

upon their innocent children

and bestow the blessings of the God of Life,

to speak the poetry of Christ,

to sing the wild music of Spirit.

How beautiful it would be

for fathers to open the little children

to that loving presence

the dying come at last to know.

How beautiful it would be

for mothers to croon hymns of love

into the ears of innocent children

morning and evening,

and to teach them how to bless

themselves in the ceaseless blessings

of the God of Life:

in the poetry of Christ,

in the wild music of Spirit,

when they arise to greet the new day,

when they dress themselves

in the grace of clothes,

when they eat the gifts of earth and sea,

when they perform the family duties,

when they play and dream...

that they would always

--as a matter of their hearts--

thank the great God of Love

for the joy of life.

How beautiful it would be for families

to sing love into their dwellings,

and rub it through their hands into all possessions

in the ceaseless blessings

of the God of Life,

in the poetry of Christ,

in the wild music of Spirit:

to bless the walls and the sheltering roof,

to bless a solid floor on which to dance,

and all the doors

that only good could come and go,

and the every window

which lets the light of day,

the dark of night to pass,

and the fixings and furniture,

toys and tools, table and bed,

and banish the eye of the devil

and close the ears of the banshees,

and forbid the pernicious demons,

that prayers might keep

the family warm with Holy presence

celebrating the God of Life:

in the poetry of Christ,

in the wild music of Spirit,

flourishing like tree sprouts

in the spirit of a family free.

IT IS RIGHT THAT I COME TO MY KNEES

NIGHT AND DAY

God who created me

in the beginning,

it is right that I come to my knees

night and day

before your loving presence

to honor you,

to love you,

to invoke the blood of Christ upon me,

the spattering of his blood

on the garments of my soul:

on the loins of my flesh,

on the belly of rivers,

on the heart of fire,

on the lungs of wind,

on the eyes of spirit,

on the mind of meditations,

on the hands of labors,

and the feet of running.

God who created me

in the beginning,

keep me close

and bless my possessions

into life and goodness,

and bless with love

all my domain

until I am born anew

into your glory,

until I come at last,

loving you,

into your high beauty.

Amen.

ON THE LONG NIGHT

On the long night,

the deep night,

the innocent night

when salvation came down a seeking,

a young maid fell down

to let the high king

slide from her loins.

She bore a wet lamb...

And the earth was shining!

Oh, ah, roe, tee doe la roo..

And the stars were singing...

Oh, ah, roe, tee doe la roo..

On the long night,

the deep night,

the innocent night

when salvation came down a seeking.