Pursue the Beauty!
reflections on the intermix of beauty, grace, and sufferingArchive for Poetry
Thanks be to God
- Originally published August 20, 2006
It is, I think, that we are all so alone in what lies deepest in our souls, so unable to find the words and perhaps the courage to speak with unlocked hearts, that we do not know at all that it is the same with others.
If everything is lost, thanks be to God
If I must see it go, watch it go,
Watch it fade away, die
Thanks be to God that He is all I have
And if I have Him not, I have nothing at all
Nothing at all, only a farewell to the wind
Farewell to the gray sky
Goodbye, God be with you evening October skye.
If all is lost, thanks be to God
For He is He, and I, I am only I.
- Dom Julian OSB
- From A Severe Mercy by Sheldon Vanauken
Virtuous Maid
Originally published April 21, 2008
Addressed to a Young Lady
Sweet stream that winds through yonder glade,
Apt emblem of a virtuous maid -
Silent and chaste she steals along,
Far from the world’s gay busy throng;
With gentle, yet prevailing force
Intent upon her destined course;
Graceful and useful all she does,
Blessing and bless’d where’ere she goes,
Pure-bosom’d as that wat’ry glass,
And Heav’n reflected in her face.
- Cowper
Painting by John William Waterhouse
Beauty of peace
Drop thy still dews of quietness
Till all our strivings cease
Take from our souls the strain and stress
And let our ordered lives confess
The beauty of Thy peace
From a grandfather and a great-grandmother
-Originally published on March 5, 2008
I received the following letter and poem from my grandfather recently. The poem is by his mother, my great-grandmother, and excerpted from a book-length collection of work which I helped him prepare for publication. This seemed timely to share, as I am sure to not be the only one in need of such encouragement and comfort.
Life right now…is very…strange. Strange by definition of being unusual and foreign to anything I have dealt with or known how to deal with in the past. Part of it is the result of being in the military, and our country being at war; part of it is the result of living in a fallen world where there is so much evil. And sometimes one cannot write about the valley’s path when still in the middle of a seemingly-never-ending piece of it. You just…can’t. At such times contentment and peace are found in the simplest of things: the completion of another day, one decision well-made, one fiery dart extinguished.
I am moving. The house is packed, the bookshelves are bare…only problem is, at the last minute plans changed and now I do not know where I will be living. I leave you with this letter and poem. Hopefully I can write you from a new home soon. We’ll both be surprised to find out where that might be, though!
Natalie,
So many times when there is a problem in my life, I glance through my mother’s poems. I seem to always find a poem that brings me peace and comfort. I am getting close to publishing these poems and I am so grateful for your wonderful work….
My Mother was a prayer warrior. She did not have to know all the details just know someone needed prayer and she went on her knees. Throughout her life she was the first person I called when I needed prayer. There is another prayer warrior in this family and I depend on her greatly. This person is your Mother [his daughter]. God will work out problems in our lives. I hope your Great Grandmother’s poem is a comfort and encouragement to you today.
Committed to Him
Into His hands I commit my soul’s yearnings
Into His Omnipotent hands….
Longings and dreams that He’ll direct for me,
Placed in His Omnipotent hands.
Into His hands, Omnipotent hands,
All I’ve committed is safe in His hands,
Into His hands I commit sins and failure…
Into His merciful hands:
Trusting the blood of Jesus my Savior:
Cleansed by His merciful hands.
Into His hands, His merciful hands
All I’ve committed is safe in his hands.
Into His hands I commit every heartache…
Into His loving hands:
Bitterness, hurt, and anguishes of spirit –
Healed by His comforting hands.
Into His hands, His comforting hands.
All I’ve committed is healed by His hands.
(c) 2008 Willie Mae Hutchins
