Prepared To Receive The Grace Of Christ?
Can blind an atheist
a philosopher know
power of Holy spirit?
Martin Luther wrote
'It is certain the man must
utterly despair of his own ability
before he is prepared
to receive the grace of Christ.'
What wisdom weighted
rests in these words?
In Christ we are not
'operating out of self-sufficiency,
but out of total dependency
on Christ and in need
of being empowered
by the Spirit.'
Shall we 'boast in our weakness instead
of displaying our self-righteousness
and strength. This is obviously folly
and nonsense to the world,
but to those who are being saved
it is the power of God.'
God dwells in flesh which received
sought after blessings from God
as such flesh aspires dwells in God.
- quotes about independence
- quotes about atheism
- quotes about receiving
- quotes about philosophy
- quotes about strength
- quotes about justice
- quotes about abilities
- quotes about worry
- quotes about peace
‘O Holy Spirit’ Prayer
O Holy Spirit, dwell in me,
And drive away the evil ones,
So that I’m freed from temptations,
And concentrate on work for God.
O Holy Spirit, be my guide,
All through my earthly life till death,
And fill my soul with grace enough,
That I don’t veer from righteousness.
O Holy Spirit, protect me,
From foes that plan my destruction,
And block my progress, here on earth,
And make my mind crestfallen fast.
O Holy Spirit, watch o’er me,
All night and day and when I’m ill,
And make my heart and mind steadfast,
So that, I tread the road to God.
O Holy Spirit, inspire me
To follow conscience without fail,
In matters that can confuse minds,
Despite my knowledge and wisdom.
O Holy Spirit, be with me,
Consoling when grief springs surprise,
And when my mind is much disturbed,
And drives me to sin’s ravines deep.
O Holy Spirit, be my strength,
In everything I do for God,
And earn my heaven, while on earth,
And fetch more souls for God’s abode.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 3-1-2009
Holy Spirit Power
Always learning but never knowing
The things they so often say,
Having form but not empowering-
The Spirit absent when they pray.
You see the Substance of the Word
Is not just idle words we send,
It has the Power of the Lord
Cutting through the hearts of men.
Without the Presence of the Savior,
In the hearts of those who study,
There is no Guide in all their labor,
Their search for Truth will be so empty.
Voluminous words won't touch another
But space and time it will occupy.
For only God bestows His Power
On a man's word, devoid of lies.
You wonder then, why do some have it?
Their words like flames fly out to you,
The message burns, your soul to meet
Your mind and heart it will undo.
For the workings of the Holy Spirit,
The Power of that Resurrection,
Transcends the plane of tales and myth,
And breaks the chains of false perception.
Desire His Presence, let Him fill you-
And humbly ask for His anointing,
His gifts will pour out, birth in you
Love, Joy, Peace, and Long-Suffering.
Your barren previous life will be
Active, growing, ever joyful-
His Power guides your step you see
He'll make you whole, oh so fruitful!
You'll see the Word in a new perspective,
And you'll understand the God you seek.
His Word will live and be so active
That knowledge makes you humble, meek.
'I run in the path of Your commands, for You have set my heart free.'
Psalm 119: 32
- quotes about words
- quotes about myth
- quotes about missing
- quotes about heart
- quotes about students
- quotes about fire
- quotes about birth
- quotes about flying
The Cenci : A Tragedy In Five Acts
Count Francesco Cenci.
Giacomo, his Son.
Bernardo, his Son.
Orsino, a Prelate.
Savella, the Pope's Legate.
Andrea, Servant to Cenci.
Nobles, Judges, Guards, Servants.
Lucretia, Wife of Cenci, and Step-mother of his children.
Beatrice, his Daughter.
The Scene lies principally in Rome, but changes during the Fourth Act to Petrella, a castle among the Apulian Apennines.
Time. During the Pontificate of Clement VIII.
-An Apartment in the Cenci Palace.
Enter Count Cenci, and Cardinal Camillo.
That matter of the murder is hushed up
If you consent to yield his Holiness
Your fief that lies beyond the Pincian gate.-
It needed all my interest in the conclave
To bend him to this point: he said that you
Bought perilous impunity with your gold;
That crimes like yours if once or twice compounded
Enriched the Church, and respited from hell
An erring soul which might repent and live:-
But that the glory and the interest
Of the high throne he fills, little consist
With making it a daily mart of guilt
As manifold and hideous as the deeds
Which you scarce hide from men's revolted eyes.
The third of my possessions-let it go!
Ay, I once heard the nephew of the Pope
Had sent his architect to view the ground,
Meaning to build a villa on my vines
The next time I compounded with his uncle:
I little thought he should outwit me so!
Henceforth no witness-not the lamp-shall see
That which the vassal threatened to divulge
Whose throat is choked with dust for his reward.
The deed he saw could not have rated higher
Than his most worthless life:-it angers me!
Respited me from Hell!-So may the Devil
Respite their souls from Heaven. No doubt Pope Clement,
And his most charitable nephews, pray
That the Apostle Peter and the Saints
Will grant for their sake that I long enjoy
Strength, wealth, and pride, and lust, and length of days
Wherein to act the deeds which are the stewards
Of their revenue.-But much yet remains
To which they show no title.
Oh, Count Cenci!
So much that thou mightst honourably live
And reconcile thyself with thine own heart
And with thy God, and with the offended world.
How hideously look deeds of lust and blood
Through those snow white and venerable hairs!-
Your children should be sitting round you now,
But that you fear to read upon their looks
The shame and misery you have written there.
Where is your wife? Where is your gentle daughter?
Methinks her sweet looks, which make all things else
Beauteous and glad, might kill the fiend within you.
Why is she barred from all society
But her own strange and uncomplaining wrongs?
Talk with me, Count,-you know I mean you well
I stood beside your dark and fiery youth
Watching its bold and bad career, as men
Watch meteors, but it vanished not-I marked
Your desperate and remorseless manhood; now
Do I behold you in dishonoured age
Charged with a thousand unrepented crimes.
Yet I have ever hoped you would amend,
And in that hope have saved your life three times.
For which Aldobrandino owes you now
My fief beyond the Pincian.-Cardinal,
One thing, I pray you, recollect henceforth,
And so we shall converse with less restraint.
A man you knew spoke of my wife and daughter-
He was accustomed to frequent my house;
So the next day his wife and daughter came
And asked if I had seen him; and I smiled:
I think they never saw him any more.
Thou execrable man, beware!-
Nay this is idle:-We should know each other.
As to my character for what men call crime
Seeing I please my senses as I list,
And vindicate that right with force or guile,
It is a public matter, and I care not
If I discuss it with you. I may speak
Alike to you and my own conscious heart-
For you give out that you have half reformed me,
Therefore strong vanity will keep you silent
If fear should not; both will, I do not doubt.
All men delight in sensual luxury,
All men enjoy revenge; and most exult
Over the tortures they can never feel-
Flattering their secret peace with others' pain.
But I delight in nothing else. I love
The sight of agony, and the sense of joy,
When this shall be another's, and that mine.
And I have no remorse and little fear,
Which are, I think, the checks of other men.
This mood has grown upon me, until now
Any design my captious fancy makes
The picture of its wish, and it forms none
But such as men like you would start to know,
Is as my natural food and rest debarred
Until it be accomplished.
Art thou not
No.-I am what your theologians call
Hardened;-which they must be in impudence,
So to revile a man's peculiar taste.
True, I was happier than I am, while yet
Manhood remained to act the thing I thought;
While lust was sweeter than revenge; and now
Invention palls:-Ay, we must all grow old-
And but that there yet remains a deed to act
Whose horror might make sharp an appetite
Duller than mine-I'd do-I know not what.
When I was young I thought of nothing else
But pleasure; and I fed on honey sweets:
Men, by St. Thomas! cannot live like bees,
And I grew tired:-yet, till I killed a foe,
And heard his groans, and heard his children's groans,
Knew I not what delight was else on earth,
Which now delights me little. I the rather
Look on such pangs as terror ill conceals,
The dry fixed eyeball; the pale quivering lip,
Which tell me that the spirit weeps within
Tears bitterer than the bloody sweat of Christ.
I rarely kill the body, which preserves,
Like a strong prison, the soul within my power,
Wherein I feed it with the breath of fear
For hourly pain.
Hell's most abandoned fiend
Did never, in the drunkenness of guilt,
Speak to his heart as now you speak to me;
I thank my God that I believe you not.
My Lord, a gentleman from Salamanca
Would speak with you.
Bid him attend me in
The grand saloon.
Farewell; and I will pray
Almighty God that thy false, impious words
Tempt not his spirit to abandon thee.
The third of my possessions! I must use
Close husbandry, or gold, the old man's sword,
Falls from my withered hand. But yesterday
There came an order from the Pope to make
Fourfold provision for my cursèd sons;
Whom I had sent from Rome to Salamanca,
Hoping some accident might cut them off;
And meaning if I could to starve them there.
I pray thee, God, send some quick death upon them!
Bernardo and my wife could not be worse
If dead and damned:-then, as to Beatrice- [Looking around him suspiciously.
I think they cannot hear me at that door;
What if they should? And yet I need not speak
Though the heart triumphs with itself in words.
O, thou most silent air, that shalt not hear
What now I think! Thou, pavement, which I tread
Towards her chamber,-let your echoes talk
Of my imperious step scorning surprise,
But not of my intent!-Andrea!
Bid Beatrice attend me in her chamber
This evening:-no, at midnight and alone.
-A Garden of the Cenci Palace. EnterBeatrice and Orsino, as in conversation.
Pervert not truth,
Orsino. You remember where we held
That conversation;-nay, we see the spot
Even from this cypress;-two long years are past
Since, on an April midnight, underneath
The moonlight ruins of mount Palatine,
I did confess to you my secret mind.
You said you loved me then.
You are a Priest,
Speak to me not of love.
I may obtain
The dispensation of the Pope to marry.
Because I am a Priest do you believe
Your image, as the hunter some struck deer,
Follows me not whether I wake or sleep?
As I have said, speak to me not of love;
Had you a dispensation I have not;
Nor will I leave this home of misery
Whilst my poor Bernard, and that gentle lady
To whom I owe life, and these virtuous thoughts,
Must suffer what I still have strength to share.
Alas, Orsino! All the love that once
I felt for you, is turned to bitter pain.
Ours was a youthful contract, which you first
Broke, by assuming vows no Pope will loose.
And thus I love you still, but holily,
Even as a sister or a spirit might;
And so I swear a cold fidelity.
And it is well perhaps we shall not marry.
You have a sly, equivocating vein
That suits me not.-Ah, wretched that I am!
Where shall I turn? Even now you look on me
As you were not my friend, and as if you
Discovered that I thought so, with false smiles
Making my true suspicion seem your wrong.
Ah, no! forgive me; sorrow makes me seem
Sterner than else my nature might have been;
I have a weight of melancholy thoughts,
And they forbode,-but what can they forbode
Worse than I now endure?
All will be well.
Is the petition yet prepared? You know
My zeal for all you wish, sweet Beatrice;
Doubt not but I will use my utmost skill
So that the Pope attend to your complaint.
Your zeal for all I wish;-Ah me, you are cold!
Your utmost skill . . . speak but one word . . . (aside)
Weak and deserted creature that I am,
Here I stand bickering with my only friend! [To Orsino.
This night my father gives a sumptuous feast,
Orsino; he has heard some happy news
From Salamanca, from my brothers there,
And with this outward show of love he mocks
His inward hate. 'Tis bold hypocrisy,
For he would gladlier celebrate their deaths,
Which I have heard him pray for on his knees:
Great God! that such a father should be mine!
But there is mighty preparation made,
And all our kin, the Cenci, will be there,
And all the chief nobility of Rome.
And he has bidden me and my pale Mother
Attire ourselves in festival array.
Poor lady! She expects some happy change
In his dark spirit from this act; I none.
At supper I will give you the petition:
I know the Pope
Will ne'er absolve me from my priestly vow
But by absolving me from the revenue
Of many a wealthy see; and, Beatrice,
I think to win thee at an easier rate.
Nor shall he read her eloquent petition:
He might bestow her on some poor relation
Of his sixth cousin, as he did her sister,
And I should be debarred from all access.
Then as to what she suffers from her father,
In all this there is much exaggeration:-
Old men are testy and will have their way;
A man may stab his enemy, or his vassal,
And live a free life as to wine or women,
And with a peevish temper may return
To a dull home, and rate his wife and children;
Daughters and wives call this foul tyranny.
I shall be well content if on my conscience
There rest no heavier sin than what they suffer
From the devices of my love-a net
From which she shall escape not. Yet I fear
Her subtle mind, her awe-inspiring gaze,
Whose beams anatomize me nerve by nerve
And lay me bare, and make me blush to see
My hidden thoughts.-Ah, no! A friendless girl
Who clings to me, as to her only hope:-
I were a fool, not less than if a panther
Were panic-stricken by the antelope's eye,
If she escape me.
-A Magnificent Hall in the Cenci Palace. A Banquet. Enter Cenci, Lucretia, Beatrice, Orsino, Camillo, Nobles.
Welcome, my friends and kinsmen; welcome ye,
Princes and Cardinals, pillars of the church,
Whose presence honours our festivity.
I have too long lived like an anchorite,
And in my absence from your merry meetings
An evil word is gone abroad of me;
But I do hope that you, my noble friends,
When you have shared the entertainment here,
And heard the pious cause for which 'tis given,
And we have pledged a health or two together,
Will think me flesh and blood as well as you;
Sinful indeed, for Adam made all so,
But tender-hearted, meek and pitiful.
In truth, my Lord, you seem too light of heart,
Too sprightly and companionable a man,
To act the deeds that rumour pins on you. (To his Companion.)
I never saw such blithe and open cheer
In any eye!
Some most desired event,
In which we all demand a common joy,
Has brought us hither; let us hear it, Count.
It is indeed a most desired event.
If, when a parent from a parent's heart
Lifts from this earth to the great Father of all
A prayer, both when he lays him down to sleep,
And when he rises up from dreaming it;
One supplication, one desire, one hope,
That he would grant a wish for his two sons,
Even all that he demands in their regard-
And suddenly beyond his dearest hope
It is accomplished, he should then rejoice,
And call his friends and kinsmen to a feast,
And task their love to grace his merriment,-
Then honour me thus far-for I am he.
Great God! How horrible! Some dreadful ill
Must have befallen my brothers.
Fear not, Child,
He speaks too frankly.
Ah! My blood runs cold.
I fear that wicked laughter round his eye,
Which wrinkles up the skin even to the hair.
Here are the letters brought from Salamanca;
Beatrice, read them to your mother. God!
I thank thee! In one night didst thou perform,
By ways inscrutable, the thing I sought.
My disobedient and rebellious sons
Are dead!-Why, dead!-What means this change of cheer?
You hear me not, I tell you they are dead;
And they will need no food or raiment more:
The tapers that did light them the dark way
Are their last cost. The Pope, I think, will not
Expect I should maintain them in their coffins.
Rejoice with me-my heart is wondrous glad.
[Lucretia sinks, half fainting; Beatrice supports her.
It is not true!-Dear lady, pray look up.
Had it been true, there is a God in Heaven,
He would not live to boast of such a boon.
Unnatural man, thou knowest that it is false.
Ay, as the word of God; whom here I call
To witness that I speak the sober truth;-
And whose most favouring Providence was shown
Even in the manner of their deaths. For Rocco
Was kneeling at the mass, with sixteen others,
When the church fell and crushed him to a mummy,
The rest escaped unhurt. Cristofano
Was stabbed in error by a jealous man,
Whilst she he loved was sleeping with his rival;
All in the self-same hour of the same night;
Which shows that Heaven has special care of me.
I beg those friends who love me, that they mark
The day a feast upon their calendars.
It was the twenty-seventh of December:
Ay, read the letters if you doubt my oath.
[The Assembly appears confused; several of the guests rise.
Oh, horrible! I will depart-
I do believe it is some jest; though faith!
'Tis mocking us somewhat too solemnly.
I think his son has married the Infanta,
Or found a mine of gold in El Dorado;
'Tis but to season some such news; stay, stay!
I see 'tis only raillery by his smile.
(filling a bowl of wine, and lifting it up).
Oh, thou bright wine whose purple splendour leaps
And bubbles gaily in this golden bowl
Under the lamplight, as my spirits do,
To hear the death of my accursèd sons!
Could I believe thou wert their mingled blood,
Then would I taste thee like a sacrament,
And pledge with thee the mighty Devil in Hell,
Who, if a father's curses, as men say,
Climb with swift wings after their children's souls,
And drag them from the very throne of Heaven,
Now triumphs in my triumph!-But thou art
Superfluous; I have drunken deep of joy,
And I will taste no other wine to-night.
Here, Andrea! Bear the bowl around.
Will none among this noble company
Check the abandoned villain?
For God's sake
Let me dismiss the guests! You are insane,
Some ill will come of this.
Seize, silence him!
(addressing those who rise with a threatening gesture).
Who moves? Who speaks?
(turning to the Company)
Enjoy yourselves.-Beware! For my revenge
Is as the sealed commission of a king
That kills, and none dare name the murderer.
[The Banquet is broken up; several of the Guests are departing.
I do entreat you, go not, noble guests;
What, although tyranny and impious hate
Stand sheltered by a father's hoary hair?
What, if 'tis he who clothed us in these limbs
Who tortures them, and triumphs? What, if we,
The desolate and the dead, were his own flesh,
His children and his wife, whom he is bound
To love and shelter? Shall we therefore find
No refuge in this merciless wide world?
O think what deep wrongs must have blotted out
First love, then reverence in a child's prone mind,
Till it thus vanquish shame and fear! O think!
I have borne much, and kissed the sacred hand
Which crushed us to the earth, and thought its stroke
Was perhaps some paternal chastisement!
Have excused much, doubted; and when no doubt
Remained, have sought by patience, love, and tears
To soften him, and when this could not be
I have knelt down through the long sleepless nights
And lifted up to God, the Father of all,
Passionate prayers: and when these were not heard
I have still borne,-until I meet you here,
Princes and kinsmen, at this hideous feast
Given at my brothers' deaths. Two yet remain,
His wife remains and I, whom if ye save not,
Ye may soon share such merriment again
As fathers make over their children's graves.
O Prince Colonna, thou art our near kinsman,
Cardinal, thou art the Pope's chamberlain,
Camillo, thou art chief justiciary,
Take us away!
(He has been conversing with Camillo during the first part of Beatrice's speech; he hears the conclusion, and now advances.)
I hope my good friends here
Will think of their own daughters-or perhaps
Of their own throats-before they lend an ear
To this wild girl.
(not noticing the words of Cenci).
Dare no one look on me?
None answer? Can one tyrant overbear
The sense of many best and wisest men?
Or is it that I sue not in some form
Of scrupulous law, that ye deny my suit?
O God! That I were buried with my brothers!
And that the flowers of this departed spring
Were fading on my grave! And that my father
Were celebrating now one feast for all!
A bitter wish for one so young and gentle;
Can we do nothing?
Nothing that I see.
Count Cenci were a dangerous enemy:
Yet I would second any one.
Retire to your chamber, insolent girl!
Retire thou, impious man! Ay, hide thyself
Where never eye can look upon thee more!
Wouldst thou have honour and obedience
Who art a torturer? Father, never dream
Though thou mayst overbear this company,
But ill must come of ill.-Frown not on me!
Haste, hide thyself, lest with avenging looks
My brothers' ghosts should hunt thee from thy seat!
Cover thy face from every living eye,
And start if thou but hear a human step:
Seek out some dark and silent corner, there,
Bow thy white head before offended God,
And we will kneel around, and fervently
Pray that he pity both ourselves and thee.
My friends, I do lament this insane girl
Has spoilt the mirth of our festivity.
Good night, farewell; I will not make you longer
Spectators of our dull domestic quarrels.
[Exeunt all but Cenci and Beatrice.
My brain is swimming round;
Give me a bowl of wine!
Thou painted viper!
Beast that thou art! Fair and yet terrible!
I know a charm shall make thee meek and tame,
Now get thee from my sight!
Fill up this goblet with Greek wine. I said
I would not drink this evening; but I must;
For, strange to say, I feel my spirits fail
With thinking what I have decreed to do.- [Drinking the wine.
Be thou the resolution of quick youth
Within my veins, and manhood's purpose stern,
And age's firm, cold, subtle villainy;
As if thou wert indeed my children's blood
Which I did thirst to drink! The charm works well;
It must be done; it shall be done, I swear!
END OF THE FIRST ACT.
-An Apartment in the Cenci Palace. Enter Lucretia and Bernardo.
Weep not, my gentle boy; he struck but me
Who have borne deeper wrongs. In truth, if he
Had killed me, he had done a kinder deed.
O God, Almighty, do Thou look upon us,
We have no other friend but only Thee!
Yet weep not; though I love you as my own,
I am not your true mother.
O more, more,
Than ever mother was to any child,
That have you been to me! Had he not been
My father, do you think that I should weep!
Alas! Poor boy, what else couldst thou have done?
(in a hurried voice).
Did he pass this way? Have you seen him, brother?
Ah, no! that is his step upon the stairs;
'Tis nearer now; his hand is on the door;
Mother, if I to thee have ever been
A duteous child, now save me! Thou, great God,
Whose image upon earth a father is,
Dost Thou indeed abandon me? He comes;
The door is opening now; I see his face;
He frowns on others, but he smiles on me,
Even as he did after the feast last night. Enter a Servant.
Almighty God, how merciful Thou art!
'Tis but Orsino's servant.-Well, what news?
My master bids me say, the Holy Father
Has sent back your petition thus unopened. [Giving a paper.
And he demands at what hour 'twere secure
To visit you again?
At the Ave Mary.[Exit Servant.
So, daughter, our last hope has failed; Ah me!
How pale you look; you tremble, and you stand
Wrapped in some fixed and fearful meditation,
As if one thought were over strong for you:
Your eyes have a chill glare; O, dearest child!
Are you gone mad? If not, pray speak to me.
You see I am not mad: I speak to you.
You talked of something that your father did
After that dreadful feast? Could it be worse
Than when he smiled, and cried, 'My sons are dead!'
And every one looked in his neighbour's face
To see if others were as white as he?
At the first word he spoke I felt the blood
Rush to my heart, and fell into a trance;
And when it passed I sat all weak and wild;
Whilst you alone stood up, and with strong words
Checked his unnatural pride; and I could see
The devil was rebuked that lives in him.
Until this hour thus have you ever stood
Between us and your father's moody wrath
Like a protecting presence: your firm mind
Has been our only refuge and defence:
What can have thus subdued it? What can now
Have given you that cold melancholy look,
Succeeding to your unaccustomed fear?
What is it that you say? I was just thinking
'Twere better not to struggle any more.
Men, like my father, have been dark and bloody,
Yet never-Oh! Before worse comes of it
'Twere wise to die: it ends in that at last.
Oh, talk not so, dear child! Tell me at once
What did your father do or say to you?
He stayed not after that accursèd feast
One moment in your chamber.-Speak to me.
Oh, sister, sister, prithee, speak to us!
(speaking very slowly with a forced calmness).
It was one word, Mother, one little word;
One look, one smile. (Wildly.)
Oh! He has trampled me
Under his feet, and made the blood stream down
My pallid cheeks. And he has given us all
Ditch-water, and the fever-stricken flesh
Of buffaloes, and bade us eat or starve,
And we have eaten.-He has made me look
On my beloved Bernardo, when the rust
Of heavy chains has gangrened his sweet limbs,
And I have never yet despaired-but now!
What could I say?
Ah, no! 'tis nothing new.
The sufferings we all share have made me wild:
He only struck and cursed me as he passed;
He said, he looked, he did;-nothing at all
Beyond his wont, yet it disordered me.
Alas! I am forgetful of my duty,
I should preserve my senses for your sake.
Nay, Beatrice; have courage, my sweet girl,
If any one despairs it should be I
Who loved him once, and now must live with him
Till God in pity call for him or me.
For you may, like your sister, find some husband,
And smile, years hence, with children round your knees;
Whilst I, then dead, and all this hideous coil
Shall be remembered only as a dream.
Talk not to me, dear lady, of a husband.
Did you not nurse me when my mother died?
Did you not shield me and that dearest boy?
And had we any other friend but you
In infancy, with gentle words and looks,
To win our father not to murder us?
And shall I now desert you? May the ghost
Of my dead Mother plead against my soul
If I abandon her who filled the place
She left, with more, even, than a mother's love!
And I am of my sister's mind. Indeed
I would not leave you in this wretchedness,
Even though the Pope should make me free to live
In some blithe place, like others of my age,
With sports, and delicate food, and the fresh air.
Oh, never think that I will leave you, Mother!
My dear, dear children!
Enter Cenci, suddenly.
What, Beatrice here!
[She shrinks back, and covers her face.
Nay, hide not your face, 'tis fair;
Look up! Why, yesternight you dared to look
With disobedient insolence upon me,
Bending a stern and an inquiring brow
On what I meant; whilst I then sought to hide
That which I came to tell you-but in vain.
(wildly, staggering towards the door).
O that the earth would gape! Hide me, O God!
Then it was I whose inarticulate words
Fell from my lips, and who with tottering steps
Fled from your presence, as you now from mine.
Stay, I command you-from this day and hour
Never again, I think, with fearless eye,
And brow superior, and unaltered cheek,
And that lip made for tenderness or scorn,
Shalt thou strike dumb the meanest of mankind;
Me least of all. Now get thee to thy chamber!
Thou too, loathed image of thy cursèd mother, [To Bernardo.
Thy milky, meek face makes me sick with hate! [Exeunt Beatrice and Bernardo.
So much has passed between us as must make
Me bold, her fearful.-'Tis an awful thing
To touch such mischief as I now conceive:
So men sit shivering on the dewy bank,
And try the chill stream with their feet; once in . . .
How the delighted spirit pants for joy!
(advancing timidly towards him).
O husband! Pray forgive poor Beatrice.
She meant not any ill.
Nor you perhaps?
Nor that young imp, whom you have taught by rote
Parricide with his alphabet? Nor Giacomo?
Nor those two most unnatural sons, who stirred
Enmity up against me with the Pope?
Whom in one night merciful God cut off:
Innocent lambs! They thought not any ill.
You were not here conspiring? You said nothing
Of how I might be dungeoned as a madman;
Or be condemned to death for some offence,
And you would be the witnesses?-This failing,
How just it were to hire assassins, or
Put sudden poison in my evening drink?
Or smother me when overcome by wine?
Seeing we had no other judge but God,
And He had sentenced me, and there were none
But you to be the executioners
Of His decree enregistered in Heaven?
Oh, no! You said not this?
So help me God,
I never thought the things you charge me with!
If you dare speak that wicked lie again
I'll kill you. What! It was not by your counsel
That Beatrice disturbed the feast last night?
You did not hope to stir some enemies
Against me, and escape, and laugh to scorn
What every nerve of you now trembles at?
You judged that men were bolder than they are;
Few dare to stand between their grave and me.
Look not so dreadfully! By my salvation
I knew not aught that Beatrice designed;
Nor do I think she designed any thing
Until she heard you talk of her dead brothers.
Blaspheming liar! You are damned for this!
But I will take you where you may persuade
The stones you tread on to deliver you:
For men shall there be none but those who dare
All things-not question that which I command.
On Wednesday next I shall set out: you know
That savage rock, the Castle of Petrella:
'Tis safely walled, and moated round about:
Its dungeons underground, and its thick towers
Never told tales; though they have heard and seen
What might make dumb things speak.-Why do you linger?
Make speediest preparation for the journey! [Exit Lucretia.
The all-beholding sun yet shines; I hear
A busy stir of men about the streets;
I see the bright sky through the window panes:
It is a garish, broad, and peering day;
Loud, light, suspicious, full of eyes and ears,
And every little corner, nook, and hole
Is penetrated with the insolent light.
Come darkness! Yet, what is the day to me?
And wherefore should I wish for night, who do
A deed which shall confound both night and day?
'Tis she shall grope through a bewildering mist
Of horror: if there be a sun in heaven
She shall not dare to look upon its beams;
Nor feel its warmth. Let her then wish for night;
The act I think shall soon extinguish all
For me: I bear a darker deadlier gloom
Than the earth's shade, or interlunar air,
Or constellations quenched in murkiest cloud,
In which I walk secure and unbeheld
Towards my purpose.-Would that it were done!
-A Chamber in the Vatican. Enter Camillo and Giacomo, in conversation.
There is an obsolete and doubtful law
By which you might obtain a bare provision
Of food and clothing-
Nothing more? Alas!
Bare must be the provision which strict law
Awards, and agèd, sullen avarice pays.
Why did my father not apprentice me
To some mechanic trade? I should have then
Been trained in no highborn necessities
Which I could meet not by my daily toil.
The eldest son of a rich nobleman
Is heir to all his incapacities;
He has wide wants, and narrow powers. If you,
Cardinal Camillo, were reduced at once
From thrice-driven beds of down, and delicate food,
An hundred servants, and six palaces,
To that which nature doth indeed require?-
Nay, there is reason in your plea; 'twere hard.
'Tis hard for a firm man to bear: but I
Have a dear wife, a lady of high birth,
Whose dowry in ill hour I lent my father
Without a bond or witness to the deed:
And children, who inherit her fine senses,
The fairest creatures in this breathing world;
And she and they reproach me not. Cardinal,
Do you not think the Pope would interpose
And stretch authority beyond the law?
Though your peculiar case is hard, I know
The Pope will not divert the course of law.
After that impious feast the other night
I spoke with him, and urged him then to check
Your father's cruel hand; he frowned and said,
'Children are disobedient, and they sting
Their fathers' hearts to madness and despair,
Requiting years of care with contumely.
I pity the Count Cenci from my heart;
His outraged love perhaps awakened hate,
And thus he is exasperated to ill.
In the great war between the old and young
I, who have white hairs and a tottering body,
Will keep at least blameless neutrality.' Enter Orsino.
You, my good Lord Orsino, heard those words.
Alas, repeat them not again!
There then is no redress for me, at least
None but that which I may achieve myself,
Since I am driven to the brink.-But, say,
My innocent sister and my only brother
Are dying underneath my father's eye.
The memorable torturers of this land,
Galeaz Visconti, Borgia, Ezzelin,
Never inflicted on the meanest slave
What these endure; shall they have no protection?
Why, if they would petition to the Pope
I see not how he could refuse it-yet
He holds it of most dangerous example
In aught to weaken the paternal power,
Being, as 'twere, the shadow of his own.
I pray you now excuse me. I have business
That will not bear delay.
But you, Orsino,
Have the petition: wherefore not present it?
I have presented it, and backed it with
My earnest prayers, and urgent interest;
It was returned unanswered. I doubt not
But that the strange and execrable deeds
Alleged in it-in truth they might well baffle
Any belief-have turned the Pope's displeasure
Upon the accusers from the criminal:
So I should guess from what Camillo said.
My friend, that palace-walking devil Gold
Has whispered silence to his Holiness:
And we are left, as scorpions ringed with fire.
What should we do but strike ourselves to death?
For he who is our murderous persecutor
Is shielded by a father's holy name,
Or I would-
What? Fear not to speak your thought.
Words are but holy as the deeds they cover:
A priest who has forsworn the God he serves;
A judge who makes Truth weep at his decree;
A friend who should weave counsel, as I now,
But as the mantle of some selfish guile;
A father who is all a tyrant seems,
Were the profaner for his sacred name.
Ask me not what I think; the unwilling brain
Feigns often what it would not; and we trust
Imagination with such phantasies
As the tongue dares not fashion into words,
Which have no words, their horror makes them dim
To the mind's eye.-My heart denies itself
To think what you demand.
But a friend's bosom
Is as the inmost cave of our own mind
Where we sit shut from the wide gaze of day,
And from the all-communicating air.
You look what I suspected-
Spare me now!
I am as one lost in a midnight wood,
Who dares not ask some harmless passenger
The path across the wilderness, lest he,
As my thoughts are, should be-a murderer.
I know you are my friend, and all I dare
Speak to my soul that will I trust with thee.
But now my heart is heavy, and would take
Lone counsel from a night of sleepless care.
Pardon me, that I say farewell-farewell!
I would that to my own suspected self
I could address a word so full of peace.
Farewell!-Be your thoughts better or more bold. [Exit Giacomo.
I had disposed the Cardinal Camillo
To feed his hope with cold encouragement:
It fortunately serves my close designs
That 'tis a trick of this same family
To analyse their own and other minds.
Such self-anatomy shall teach the will
Dangerous secrets: for it tempts our powers,
Knowing what must be thought, and may be done,
Into the depth of darkest purposes:
So Cenci fell into the pit; even I,
Since Beatrice unveiled me to myself,
And made me shrink from what I cannot shun,
Show a poor figure to my own esteem,
To which I grow half reconciled. I'll do
As little mischief as I can; that thought
Shall fee the accuser conscience.
(After a pause.)
Now what harm
If Cenci should be murdered?-Yet, if murdered,
Wherefore by me? And what if I could take
The profit, yet omit the sin and peril
In such an action? Of all earthly things
I fear a man whose blows outspeed his words;
And such is Cenci: and while Cenci lives
His daughter's dowry were a secret grave
If a priest wins her.-Oh, fair Beatrice!
Would that I loved thee not, or loving thee
Could but despise danger and gold and all
That frowns between my wish and its effect,
Or smiles beyond it! There is no escape . . .
Her bright form kneels beside me at the altar,
And follows me to the resort of men,
And fills my slumber with tumultuous dreams,
So when I wake my blood seems liquid fire;
And if I strike my damp and dizzy head
My hot palm scorches it: her very name,
But spoken by a stranger, makes my heart
Sicken and pant; and thus unprofitably
I clasp the phantom of unfelt delights
Till weak imagination half possesses
The self-created shadow. Yet much longer
Will I not nurse this life of feverous hours:
From the unravelled hopes of Giacomo
I must work out my own dear purposes.
I see, as from a tower, the end of all:
Her father dead; her brother bound to me
By a dark secret, surer than the grave;
Her mother scared and unexpostulating
From the dread manner of her wish achieved:
And she!-Once more take courage, my faint heart;
What dares a friendless maiden matched with thee?
I have such foresight as assures success:
Some unbeheld divinity doth ever,
When dread events are near, stir up men's minds
To black suggestions; and he prospers best,
Not who becomes the instrument of ill,
But who can flatter the dark spirit, that makes
Its empire and its prey of other hearts
Till it become his slave . . . as I will do.
END OF THE SECOND ACT.
-An Apartment in the Cenci Palace. Lucretia, to her enter Beatrice.
(She enters staggering, and speaks wildly.)
Reach me that handkerchief!-My brain is hurt;
My eyes are full of blood; just wipe them for me . . .
I see but indistinctly . . .
My sweet child,
You have no wound; 'tis only a cold dew
That starts from your dear brow . . . Alas! Alas!
What has befallen?
How comes this hair undone?
Its wandering strings must be what blind me so,
And yet I tied it fast.-O, horrible!
The pavement sinks under my feet! The walls
Spin round! I see a woman weeping there,
And standing calm and motionless, whilst I
Slide giddily as the world reels. . . . My God!
The beautiful blue heaven is flecked with blood!
The sunshine on the floor is black! The air
Is changed to vapours such as the dead breathe
In charnel pits! Pah! I am choked! There creeps
A clinging, black, contaminating mist
About me . . . 'tis substantial, heavy, thick,
I cannot pluck it from me, for it glues
My fingers and my limbs to one another,
And eats into my sinews, and dissolves
My flesh to a pollution, poisoning
The subtle, pure, and inmost spirit of life!
My God! I never knew what the mad felt
Before; for I am mad beyond all doubt!
No, I am dead! These putrefying limbs
Shut round and sepulchre the panting soul
Which would burst forth into the wandering air! (A pause.)
What hideous thought was that I had even now?
'Tis gone; and yet its burthen remains here
O'er these dull eyes . . . upon this weary heart!
O, world! O, life! O, day! O, misery!
What ails thee, my poor child? She answers not:
Her spirit apprehends the sense of pain,
But not its cause; suffering has dried away
The source from which it sprung . . .
Like Parricide . . .
Misery has killed its father: yet its father
Never like mine . . . O, God! What thing am I?
My dearest child, what has your father done?
Who art thou, questioner? I have no father.
She is the madhouse nurse who tends on me,
It is a piteous office.
[To Lucretia, in a slow, subdued voice.
Do you know
I thought I was that wretched Beatrice
Men speak of, whom her father sometimes hales
From hall to hall by the entangled hair;
At others, pens up naked in damp cells
Where scaly reptiles crawl, and starves her there,
Till she will eat strange flesh. This woful story
So did I overact in my sick dreams,
That I imagined . . . no, it cannot be!
Horrible things have been in this wide world,
Prodigious mixtures, and confusions strange
Of good and ill; and worse have been conceived
Than ever there was found a heart to do.
But never fancy imaged such a deed
As . . .
[Pauses, suddenly recollecting herself.
Who art thou? Swear to me, ere I die
With fearful expectation, that indeed
Thou art not what thou seemest . . . Mother!
My sweet child, know you . . .
Yet speak it not:
For then if this be truth, that other too
Must be a truth, a firm enduring truth,
Linked with each lasting circumstance of life,
Never to change, never to pass away.
Why so it is. This is the Cenci Palace;
Thou art Lucretia; I am Beatrice.
I have talked some wild words, but will no more.
Mother, come near me: from this point of time,
I am . . .
[Her voice dies away faintly.
Alas! What has befallen thee, child?
What has thy father done?
What have I done?
Am I not innocent? Is it my crime
That one with white hair, and imperious brow,
Who tortured me from my forgotten years,
As parents only dare, should call himself
My father, yet should be!-Oh, what am I?
What name, what place, what memory shall be mine?
What retrospects, outliving even despair?
He is a violent tyrant, surely, child:
We know that death alone can make us free;
His death or ours. But what can he have done
Of deadlier outrage or worse injury?
Thou art unlike thyself; thine eyes shoot forth
A wandering and strange spirit. Speak to me,
Unlock those pallid hands whose fingers twine
With one another.
'Tis the restless life
Tortured within them. If I try to speak
I shall go mad. Ay, something must be done;
What, yet I know not . . . something which shall make
The thing that I have suffered but a shadow
In the dread lightning which avenges it;
Brief, rapid, irreversible, destroying
The consequence of what it cannot cure.
Some such thing is to be endured or done:
When I know what, I shall be still and calm,
And never anything will move me more.
But now!-O blood, which art my father's blood,
Circling through these contaminated veins,
If thou, poured forth on the polluted earth,
Could wash away the crime, and punishment
By which I suffer . . . no, that cannot be!
Many might doubt there were a God above
Who sees and permits evil, and so die:
That faith no agony shall obscure in me.
It must indeed have been some bitter wrong;
Yet what, I dare not guess. Oh, my lost child,
Hide not in proud impenetrable grief
Thy sufferings from my fear.
I hide them not.
What are the words which you would have me speak?
I, who can feign no image in my mind
Of that which has transformed me: I, whose thought
Is like a ghost shrouded and folded up
In its own formless horror: of all words,
That minister to mortal intercourse,
Which wouldst thou hear? For there is none to tell
My misery: if another ever knew
Aught like to it, she died as I will die,
And left it, as I must, without a name.
Death! Death! Our law and our religion call thee
A punishment and a reward . . . Oh, which
Have I deserved?
The peace of innocence;
Till in your season you be called to heaven.
Whate'er you may have suffered, you have done
No evil. Death must be the punishment
Of crime, or the reward of trampling down
The thorns which God has strewed upon the path
Which leads to immortality.
Ay; death . . .
The punishment of crime. I pray thee, God,
Let me not be bewildered while I judge.
If I must live day after day, and keep
These limbs, the unworthy temple of Thy spirit,
As a foul den from which what Thou abhorrest
May mock Thee, unavenged . . . it shall not be!
Self-murder . . . no, that might be no escape,
For Thy decree yawns like a Hell between
Our will and it:-O! In this mortal world
There is no vindication and no law
Which can adjudge and execute the doom
Of that through which I suffer.
(She approaches him solemnly.)
I have to tell you that, since last we met,
I have endured a wrong so great and strange,
That neither life nor death can give me rest.
Ask me not what it is, for there are deeds
Which have no form, sufferings which have no tongue.
And what is he who has thus injured you?
The man they call my father: a dread name.
It cannot be . . .
What it can be, or not,
Forbear to think. It is, and it has been;
Advise me how it shall not be again.
I thought to die; but a religious awe
Restrains me, and the dread lest death itself
Might be no refuge from the consciousness
Of what is yet unexpiated. Oh, speak!
Accuse him of the deed, and let the law
Oh, ice-hearted counsellor!
If I could find a word that might make known
The crime of my destroyer; and that done,
My tongue should like a knife tear out the secret
Which cankers my heart's core; ay, lay all bare
So that my unpolluted fame should be
With vilest gossips a stale mouthèd story;
A mock, a byword, an astonishment:-
If this were done, which never shall be done,
Think of the offender's gold, his dreaded hate,
And the strange horror of the accuser's tale,
Baffling belief, and overpowering speech;
Scarce whispered, unimaginable, wrapped
In hideous hints . . . Oh, most assured redress!
You will endure it then?
It seems your counsel is small profit.
[Turns from him, and speaks half to herself.
All must be suddenly resolved and done.
What is this undistinguishable mist
Of thoughts, which rise, like shadow after shadow,
Darkening each other?
Should the offender live?
Triumph in his misdeed? and make, by use,
His crime, whate'er it is, dreadful no doubt,
Thine element; until thou mayst become
Utterly lost; subdued even to the hue
Of that which thou permittest?
Thou double-visaged shadow? Only judge!
[She retires absorbed in thought.
If the lightning
Of God has e'er descended to avenge . . .
Blaspheme not! His high Providence commits
Its glory on this earth, and their own wrongs
Into the hands of men; if they neglect
To punish crime . . .
But if one, like this wretch,
Should mock, with gold, opinion, law, and power?
If there be no appeal to that which makes
The guiltiest tremble? If because our wrongs,
For that they are unnatural, strange, and monstrous,
Exceed all measure of belief? O God!
If, for the very reasons which should make
Redress most swift and sure, our injurer triumphs?
And we, the victims, bear worse punishment
Than that appointed for their torturer?
But that there is redress where there is wrong,
So we be bold enough to seize it.
If there were any way to make all sure,
I know not . . . but I think it might be good
To . . .
Why, his late outrage to Beatrice;
For it is such, as I but faintly guess,
As makes remorse dishonour, and leaves her
Only one duty, how she may avenge:
You, but one refuge from ills ill endured;
Me, but one counsel . . .
For we cannot hope
That aid, or retribution, or resource
Will arise thence, where every other one
Might find them with less need.
Then . . .
And, honoured Lady, while I speak, I pray,
That you put off, as garments overworn,
Forbearance and respect, remorse and fear,
And all the fit restraints of daily life,
Which have been borne from childhood, but which now
Would be a mockery to my holier plea.
As I have said, I have endured a wrong,
Which, though it be expressionless, is such
As asks atonement; both for what is past,
And lest I be reserved, day after day,
To load with crimes an overburthened soul,
And be . . . what ye can dream not. I have prayed
To God, and I have talked with my own heart,
And have unravelled my entangled will,
And have at length determined what is right.
Art thou my friend, Orsino? False or true?
Pledge thy salvation ere I speak.
To dedicate my cunning, and my strength,
My silence, and whatever else is mine,
To thy commands.
You think we should devise
And execute what is devised,
And suddenly. We must be brief and bold.
And yet most cautious.
For the jealous laws
Would punish us with death and infamy
For that which it became themselves to do.
Be cautious as ye may, but prompt. Orsino,
What are the means?
I know two dull, fierce outlaws,
Who think man's spirit as a worm's, and they
Would trample out, for any slight caprice,
The meanest or the noblest life. This mood
Is marketable here in Rome. They sell
What we now want.
To-morrow before dawn,
Cenci will take us to that lonely rock,
Petrella, in the Apulian Apennines.
If he arrive there . . .
He must not arrive.
Will it be dark before you reach the tower?
The sun will scarce be set.
But I remember
Two miles on this side of the fort, the road
Crosses a deep ravine; 'tis rough and narrow,
And winds with short turns down the precipice;
And in its depth there is a mighty rock,
Which has, from unimaginable years,
Sustained itself with terror and with toil
Over a gulf, and with the agony
With which it clings seems slowly coming down;
Even as a wretched soul hour after hour,
Clings to the mass of life; yet clinging, leans;
And leaning, makes more dark the dread abyss
In which it fears to fall: beneath this crag
Huge as despair, as if in weariness,
The melancholy mountain yawns . . . below,
You hear but see not an impetuous torrent
Raging among the caverns, and a bridge
Crosses the chasm; and high above there grow,
With intersecting trunks, from crag to crag,
Cedars, and yews, and pines; whose tangled hair
Is matted in one solid roof of shade
By the dark ivy's twine. At noonday here
'Tis twilight, and at sunset blackest night.
Before you reach that bridge make some excuse
For spurring on your mules, or loitering
Until . . .
What sound is that?
Hark! No, it cannot be a servant's step
It must be Cenci, unexpectedly
Returned . . . Make some excuse for being here.
(To Orsino, as she goes out.)
That step we hear approach must never pass
The bridge of which we spoke.
[Exeunt Lucretia and Beatrice.
What shall I do?
Cenci must find me here, and I must bear
The imperious inquisition of his looks
As to what brought me hither: let me mask
Mine own in some inane and vacant smile. Enter Giacomo, in a hurried manner.
How! Have you ventured hither? Know you then
That Cenci is from home?
I sought him here;
And now must wait till he returns.
Weigh you the danger of this rashness?
Does my destroyer know his danger? We
Are now no more, as once, parent and child,
But man to man; the oppressor to the oppressed;
The slanderer to the slandered; foe to foe:
He has cast Nature off, which was his shield,
And Nature casts him off, who is her shame;
And I spurn both. Is it a father's throat
Which I will shake, and say, I ask not gold;
I ask not happy years; nor memories
Of tranquil childhood; nor home-sheltered love;
Though all these hast thou torn from me, and more;
But only my fair fame; only one hoard
Of peace, which I thought hidden from thy hate,
Under the penury heaped on me by thee,
Or I will . . . God can understand and pardon,
Why should I speak with man?
Be calm, dear friend.
Well, I will calmly tell you what he did.
This old Francesco Cenci, as you know,
Borrowed the dowry of my wife from me,
And then denied the loan; and left me so
In poverty, the which I sought to mend
By holding a poor office in the state.
It had been promised to me, and already
I bought new clothing for my raggèd babes,
And my wife smiled; and my heart knew repose.
When Cenci's intercession, as I found,
Conferred this office on a wretch, whom thus
He paid for vilest service. I returned
With this ill news, and we sate sad together
Solacing our despondency with tears
Of such affection and unbroken faith
As temper life's worst bitterness; when he,
As he is wont, came to upbraid and curse,
Mocking our poverty, and telling us
Such was God's scourge for disobedient sons.
And then, that I might strike him dumb with shame,
I spoke of my wife's dowry; but he coined
A brief yet specious tale, how I had wasted
The sum in secret riot; and he saw
My wife was touched, and he went smiling forth.
And when I knew the impression he had made,
And felt my wife insult with silent scorn
My ardent truth, and look averse and cold,
I went forth too: but soon returned again;
Yet not so soon but that my wife had taught
My children her harsh thoughts, and they all cried,
'Give us clothes, father! Give us better food!
What you in one night squander were enough
For months!' I looked, and saw that home was hell.
And to that hell will I return no more
Until mine enemy has rendered up
Atonement, or, as he gave life to me
I will, reversing Nature's law . . .
The compensation which thou seekest here
Will be denied.
Then . . . Are you not my friend?
Did you not hint at the alternative,
Upon the brink of which you see I stand,
The other day when we conversed together?
My wrongs were then less. That word parricide,
Although I am resolved, haunts me like fear.
It must be fear itself, for the bare word
Is hollow mockery. Mark, how wisest God
Draws to one point the threads of a just doom,
So sanctifying it: what you devise
Is, as it were, accomplished.
Is he dead?
His grave is ready. Know that since we met
Cenci has done an outrage to his daughter.
That she speaks not, but you may
Conceive such half conjectures as I do,
From her fixed paleness, and the lofty grief
Of her stern brow bent on the idle air,
And her severe unmodulated voice,
Drowning both tenderness and dread; and last
From this; that whilst her step-mother and I,
Bewildered in our horror, talked together
With obscure hints; both self-misunderstood
And darkly guessing, stumbling, in our talk,
Over the truth, and yet to its revenge,
She interrupted us, and with a look
Which told before she spoke it, he must die: . . .
It is enough. My doubts are well appeased;
There is a higher reason for the act
Than mine; there is a holier judge than me,
A more unblamed avenger. Beatrice,
Who in the gentleness of thy sweet youth
Hast never trodden on a worm, or bruised
A living flower, but thou hast pitied it
With needless tears! Fair sister, thou in whom
Men wondered how such loveliness and wisdom
Did not destroy each other! Is there made
Ravage of thee? O, heart, I ask no more
Justification! Shall I wait, Orsino,
Till he return, and stab him at the door?
Not so; some accident might interpose
To rescue him from what is now most sure;
And you are unprovided where to fly,
How to excuse or to conceal. Nay, listen:
All is contrived; success is so assured
That . . .
'Tis my brother's voice! You know me not?
My sister, my lost sister!
I see Orsino has talked with you, and
That you conjecture things too horrible
To speak, yet far less than the truth. Now, stay not,
He might return: yet kiss me; I shall know
That then thou hast consented to his death.
Farewell, farewell! Let piety to God,
Brotherly love, justice and clemency,
And all things that make tender hardest hearts
Make thine hard, brother. Answer not . . . farewell.
-A mean Apartment in Giacomo's House. Giacomo alone.
'Tis midnight, and Orsino comes not yet. [Thunder, and the sound of a storm.
What! can the everlasting elements
Feel with a worm like man? If so, the shaft
Of mercy-wingèd lightning would not fall
On stones and trees. My wife and children sleep:
They are now living in unmeaning dreams:
But I must wake, still doubting if that deed
Be just which is most necessary. O,
Thou unreplenished lamp! whose narrow fire
Is shaken by the wind, and on whose edge
Devouring darkness hovers! Thou small flame,
Which, as a dying pulse rises and falls,
Still flickerest up and down, how very soon,
Did I not feed thee, wouldst thou fail and be
As thou hadst never been! So wastes and sinks
Even now, perhaps, the life that kindled mine:
But that no power can fill with vital oil
That broken lamp of flesh. Ha! 'tis the blood
Which fed these veins that ebbs till all is cold:
It is the form that moulded mine that sinks
Into the white and yellow spasms of death:
It is the soul by which mine was arrayed
In God's immortal likeness which now stands
Naked before Heaven's judgement seat!
[A bell strikes.
The hours crawl on; and when my hairs are white,
My son will then perhaps be waiting thus,
Tortured between just hate and vain remorse;
Chiding the tardy messenger of news
Holy Spirit Divine Descend
Holy Spirit Divine descend
Come and take pre-eminence
Move in an unusual fashion
Like on the day of Pentecost
Descend Holy spirit Divine descend
We are gathered in your name
Together to sing your praises
To express our thankfulness
At your throne of Grace
We are gathered in your name
Together to make our supplication
And bring our burdens
To the throne of Grace
We are gathered in your name
Humbly requesting your blessing
Showers of divine blessings
From the throne of Grace
We are gathered in your name
Anxiously seeking your face
Believing to access favours
From your throne of Grace
We are gathered in your name
Honestly faithful in you
Trusting we shall be set freed
At your throne of Grace
We are gathered in your name
Keenly waiting on you
Hoping to renew our strength
At the throne of Grace
We are gathered in your name
Candidly unwavering in our trust
Convinced to be spiritually re-fueled
At the throne of Grace
Relying On The Holy Spirit
The Holy Spirit is enough for me, as I’ve been sealed for eternity,
Sealed, by The Spirit of Christ, with His guarantee of Eternal Life;
The Spirit, the only teacher I need, as Truth, He helps me to heed,
Guiding me through all my days, for Christ’s Glory and His Praise.
For The Spirit opened my eyes, to discern Truth from Satan’s lies,
Teaching me the Ways of God, while led by Christ’s staff and rod,
Growing in His Truth and Love, assisted by His Spirit, from above,
Teaching me God’s Truth day to day, as I travel life’s Narrow Way.
It’s the work of God’s Holy Spirit, to shed light on Truth as I hear it,
Revealing Truths, that I never heard, from God’s Holy, Living Word.
From The Truth, revealed to men, by God’s Spirit, I am Born Again,
Believing in Christ and Him alone, I became one of God’s very own.
As God’s Spirit led me to believe, The Truth of God I would receive,
Believing the Saving Truth of Christ, I received in the Spirit New Life,
And at that very time and place, my life was changed, by His Grace,
Never again would it be the same; all by the power of Christ’s Name.
It is in Christ, that I now abide, through The Spirit, Who dwells inside,
And in God’s Spirit, I fully rely, in the same power from God on high,
Sent to comfort Children of God, while they journey this earthly sod,
Who will also, soon snatch us away, to Heaven on that Glorious day.
Wings of the Holy Spirit
my poems sit on the wings
of the Holy Spirit
to travel to places
beyond my reach
i can only watch as
they move from one
miracle to the other
Who Will Invite The Holy Spirit Into Their Life?
Who will invite
the Holy Spirit
to enter into their life?
What great journeys
will you go on?
What great adventures
will you have
in search of The Holy Spirit
of divine God?
Truly where will you go
the ends of the earth?
Will you search an entire
world to find
at last The Holy Spirit
of divine God?
If you would find at last
The Holy Spirit of divine God
then open your Bible.
Read learn the divine word.
Come Holy Spirit
He is walking on the surface of the earth.
Searching for souls for Messiah.
He is the Holy Spirit.
He wants to help
but He has to be invited.
Say come Holy Spirit.
The stakes are high.
Your eternal life
depends on this decision.
Welcome Him today.
for tomorrow is not promised.
This is the day of salvation.
Say come Holy Spirit.
He is walking on the surface
of the earth with a gift for you.
Say come Holy Spirit,
Weakness In His Strength
"WEAKNESS IN HIS STRENGTH"
Weakness in his strength
Born by hatred and raised by anger
He felt like his life was hangin on a hanger
Poor little one,
People loved his dad, but to him he was dead
His dad's name, in his senses
Covered by memories
And surrounded by sadness
He said he had seen the worst
But he is not the first
He had failure as his big brother
Hatred kept near them as their mother
He thanked God for every breath
But could not find the weakness in his strength
The weakness in his strength
Poor little one, with his
Weakness in his strength
Lights looked bright to others but to him
They looked deem
Funeral for his mother…
Dead and gone was Mrs. Hatred
That's the moment he forgot about hate and
Decided to move in with dad,
Living Mr. Anger alone which left him mad
Success, a beautiful lady his dad
Started dating last weak
She was introduced to him
But still felt weak
Education, who she met at school and changed his life
Who she later made his wife
Had to hire a babysitter by the name of health
After having a baby who they named wealth.
The weakness in his strength
Weakness in his strength
Started facing death.
The Holy Spirit
The Holy Spirit moves on a life, making changes for Jesus Christ,
When a truly repentant heart, comes to God for a brand new start.
Within God’s Word it’s revealed, by The Holy Spirit we are sealed,
By The Lord of all Creation, when we come to Christ for salvation.
Sanctification begins in us when, in Christ we become Born Again,
Accepting the Gift from our Creator, New Life, in Christ our Savior.
From the moment in Christ we trust, The Spirit begins a work in us,
As we live upon this earthly sod, using our new life to glorify God.
The Spirit is sent by God’s Son, to dwell in the hearts of everyone,
All in The Son who have new life, baptized into the Body of Christ.
He assures us when all is wrong, that to God’s Son we do belong,
As The Comforter, of all those, who follow Jesus Christ, who rose.
He illuminates and fills our hearts, as Truth, the Holy Spirit imparts,
Guiding Believers as He teaches, speaking Truth to all He reaches.
He empowers those who believe, the moment that we first receive,
Christ’s life changing Gospel Truth, with a New Life as living proof.
Through all this He intercedes, with The Father for all of our needs,
As He grants spiritual gifts to us, mere sinful men made from dust.
All this because He regenerates, a believing soul that God creates,
So why not believe Him today, so He can send the Spirit your way.
The Ministry of The Holy Spirit
My wife was sanctified and set apart through The Spirit in her heart,
And from my wife's tender heart, to me words of Life she did impart.
Such is the work of The Holy Spirit, sent by God from the very start,
To go throughout the world around us changing every yielding heart.
God uses men to share the Gospel through the ministry of The Spirit,
Believers are to share God's Word with every heart that will hear it.
Death's inevitable for all Believers but with Hope we don't fear it,
For Believers are sealed for Eternity by the indwelling Holy Spirit.
Jesus commissioned all Believers to spread His Word to all the earth,
Our mission is to lead men out of darkness to the Light of New Birth.
And as sinners to the cross, we bring nothing of any eternal worth,
But the price has been paid fully by the creator of the entire earth.
The Age of Grace is almost over and Almighty God will not be ignored,
When this Age is over all who remain will enter The Day of The Lord.
For vengeance is The Lord's only and for this day His Wrath is stored,
And that day will not end until on all the evil His Wrath is poured.
Until the end we need to preach to every tribe, tongue and nation,
For Jesus is still at the door offering to all His Eternal Salvation.
For all who are found in Christ Jesus will not face any condemnation,
Instead our lowly bodies will be transformed into His Glorification.
Prayer to the Holy Spirit
O Holy Spirit,
Third person of the Holy trinity;
Bond of harmony between the Father and Son;
Embodiment of eternal love and peace,
Come dwell forever within us.
Shower your gifts and wisdom;
Help us to spiritually better our lives
And souls, with your immense grace;
Bless our work and toil on earth,
Goad us to walk on the way to heaven always.
Do not allow us to stray from the divine path anytime;
Help us lead a Christ-centered life;
Bless our families and progeny;
Help us maintain Christian principles, morality and sense of values;
Help us lead a life of fortitude and
Love our neighbor as ourselves.
Train us to forgive and forget others’ trespasses;
Foster among us faith, hope, charity and love;
Ward off from our homes, sins of every kind;
Keep away the satanic forces that endlessly try to undo the virtues in us.
Help us brave the storms, travail and tribulations of earthly life.
Teach us to emulate the example of the Holy family;
Help us renounce satan, his pomps and works;
Help us give our mite to the harvest of holy souls;
May we pray with fervor incessantly, for conversion of souls to God.
May we share, spread and sow the love of God among our unfortunate fellow beings
Give us complete success against the evil one and a holy death.
May we pass the Final Test and take our soul undefiled to Heaven.
We beseech you to grant us the needed grace from time to time.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 26-06-2010
Bible in Poetry: 1 John 2
I write to you my dear children,
So that you must not commit sin;
And if someone does commit it,
Our defense is Lord Jesus Christ,
The Righteous One, Holy Spirit,
Who’ll speak to Father for our sake.
The Lamb of God, sins did He take,
He paid the price in atonement,
For mankind’s sins and punishment.
If we obey His commands all,
We’ve come to know and heard His call;
The man who says, ‘I know him, ’ but
Does not follow His commands, yet,
Remains a liar, without doubt.
By obeying, we’re made complete,
And know His word and feel His love,
And walk with Him to heav’n above!
I write to you no new command,
But old an one, just to remind,
A message that you have all heard,
The need to listen to His word,
Because the darkness is passing,
And true light is on you shining.
Someone who claims to be in light,
And hates his brother, is in dark;
Whoever loves his brother, ‘mark,
‘He won’t stumble, he lives in light.’
He who hates still, walks in darkness,
And has been blinded, in sureness,
And does not know to where he goes!
‘I write to you dear children, know,
Your sins have been forgiven now;
On account of His Holy Name.
I write to you dear fathers all,
You’ve known Him and have heard His call,
He, who is from the beginning.
I write to you young men, women,
You’ve overcome the evil one.
I write to you dear children then,
Because the Father, you have known.
I write to you young men on earth,
Because you’re kept strong by His birth,
By word of God that lives in you,
The evil one, you’ve o’ercome too.’
Do Not Love the World:
Don’t love the world and things in it;
Lest love of Father, you forfeit;
The things that are found in this world,
Do not belong to God, the Lord,
But cravings of the sinful man,
Of what he does in his life-span,
The lust of eyes and one’s boasting,
And do not come from Father King,
But have their origin in world.
Warning against Antichrists:
This is the last hour, dear children,
The Antichrist is coming then,
Many such ones have come by now,
By this, this is last hour, we know.
They went away from us only;
They didn’t belong to us truly;
If they had, they would have remained,
And not left us or abandoned.
You have the holy anointing;
And so, you know the truth so well;
The righteous get the Lord’s blessing;
Knowing the truth, you can’t lies tell.
Who is the liar, can you tell?
One who denies Jesus is Christ;
Such men will surely go to hell;
Such men are called as antichrist.
He denies Father and the Son;
The Father can’t be with such one;
Whoever acknowledges Son,
In him has Father and has won.
Ensure what you have heard at first,
Remains in you and Father, Christ;
For, Eternal life, He’as promised.
Beware of being led astray;
By ones who oppose righteousness;
Your anointing will show your way,
You need no one to teach or say.
The anointing is so real;
Remain in Him and He will heal.
Children of God:
So, continue in Him, children,
So that, when He comes from heaven,
We stay confident, without shame,
And stand before Him, without blame.
If you know He’s the Righteous One,
Who does aright, of Him are born.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 6-23-2007
Tiger Woods' His Eagle Has Landed Due To Sex & Buddha?
Amazingly the Eagle has unofficially landed on Wednesday12/02/2009,
An accident early Thanksgiving Day clipped Tiger’s wings in his prime,
What is it that brought down this bird flying above the stars set on high?
Well, lets just say that even in a Cadillac SUV, Eagles should not drive.
The only thing that could even remotely make this mortal an average guy,
No one alive is immune from everyday sins and transgressions here’s why,
The higher you climb the more jealously seals your coffin with a rusty nail,
And his human persona was undermined by an indiscretionary voice mail.
There’s more to this incident but exactly what is the bottom line going to be?
Great as Mr. Woods is he’s no different away from his fame as you and me,
The evil one is equally as busy on millionaires as he is on dollars and cents,
That is right! Whether you own a mansion on in an apartment you owe rent.
Bill Clinton, Monica Lewinsk and the “dress” Eldrick did obviously forget,
The President of the most powerful country had to face the nation in regret,
If only Eve hadn’t eaten the apple there might not have been over 300 text,
Doing what none in the world could do he put a noose around his own neck.
Somewhere there is a phrase about, “hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, ”
Being a Stanford grad and past history you would think he was forewarned,
Soon the walls began to crumble, the story leaks, when the end approaches,
Alleged lovers and all the tabloids begin to appear like an army of roaches.
There will be many twists, takes, turns to this incident, here is yet another,
Tiger was estranged from his father Earl for fooling around on his mother,
Okay! Please remember to be careful when you dig a pit for someone else.
Why? Because more often than not you just might fall in that ditch yourself.
Mark 8: 36, 'What shall it profit to gain the whole world and lose your soul? ”
It’s very unfortunate that there’ll be many first hand who will come to know,
So, if you think it is all about money, your title or prestige better think again,
And start with the love of GOD, your family, the church and faithful friends.
Lust has nothing to do with love, just selfishness, control and mucho greed,
I do not want you to have Elin sweetie because I only want you to have me,
But! Now that the cat’s out of the bag I simply have to sell my story honey,
After all sugar it was never really about you it was always about your money.
As these women do talk shows and the covers of Star and People Magazine,
Every strand of hair in place, perfect make-up and teeth professionally clean,
With hankies sobbing, “we’re good girls, not home wreckers” oh yes you are,
And if life was scored like the game of golf you’d all be 2,000+ years over par.
Tiger, Tiger, Tiger the most recognized face on this earth or any other planet,
It’s tame next to the Super Bowl breast of the 2nd most famous Jackson, Janet,
Endorsements have catapulted you to the stratosphere where there is higher loft,
And now you know what all humans know, that there is more to life than golf.
Governors Eliot Spitzer, Mark Stanford and now Mr. Eldrick Tiger Woods,
Romans 7: 18 reminds us, “inside the flesh dwells nothing that’s good, ”
King Solomon’s greatest riches or even Samson’s strength or power,
Yeah! Not some mighty foe but their own sins would destroy & devour.
This is not to condemn through unrighteousness by dropping anyone’s name,
No matter the position there’s a good chance to get caught playing this game,
Tiger’s loss of million dollar sponsors, everybody is so curious and concerned,
Till we began to fear what God’s wrath may be there’s still more to be learned.
Also, many questions arise about his family whether or not Elin gets a divorce,
Not to be rude but like everything else this is putting the cart before the horse,
This sponsor, those commercials, the yacht, real estate & jet, all want to know,
Al Sharpton wanted him to have affairs with Black girls but nada about his soul.
Al called Tiger a racist because in his harem he had no African American honey’s,
The, 'good' reverend felt they too should sell their stories in exchange for money,
Eldrick fell from grace, among the stars, through clouds, to walk with ordinary men,
And all the, “man of God” could think of, let Black women profit from adulterous sin.
Al also said Tiger should be like Black hero’s Jesse Jackson and Martin Luther King,
Why? Well, when they had affairs it was with their own race. That was a good thing?
Hey Tiger, maybe the first thing you should do is find a circle of God fearing friends,
Otherwise, your Eagle that has landed might never take off for another flight again.
When there is no fear of God or eternity in hell this it what anyone should do,
If you have an affair let it be with someone who has as much to loose as you,
Yeah, neither should they mind weeping, wailing, always grinding their teeth,
Now answer this question, 'Is anything really worth this kind of forever grief? '
12/11/2009 This Eagle flying Tiger has decided to take a much needed rest,
Not for the world of golf but for this endangered spices right now it will be best,
Yet, without the bible’s knowledge and wisdom again he just might fail the test,
This Tiger as all must understand, on earth we are only God’s temporary guest.
The entire sports world, family, friends, all of his fans, are somewhat perplexed,
At the end of 12/2009 there is talk of Tiger being treated for an addiction to sex,
Ok, should whatever therapy, counseling and reasoning sessions fail what next?
He needs to get it right the first time, training in the knowledge of scripture text.
Oh! By the way, there is no need to waste any money because the gift is free,
James 1: 5, “If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, given to all liberally, ”
1: 6, “But ask in faith, not wavering, unlike the sea, driven by wind and tossed, ”
Many have spent thousands yet without the word of God still you are still lost.
02/19/2010 Tiger had his first news conference and now I realize,
This infidelity, deceit, selfishness, manipulating attitude okay why?
He wants to get back to Buddhism the religious roots of his belief,
Well heck, it’s no wonder there is so much embarrassment & grief.
Anyone who breaks the very first Commandment of God is pure insanity,
So, Mr. Eldrick Tiger Woods needs to turn to true worship, “Christianity, ”
Paying homage to a creature instead of Creator caused it in the first place,
2nd Chronicles 7: 14, forgivness & healing only comes seeking God’s face.
Tiger made the ultimate slice putting the cart before the horse,
Resulting in the loss of family, respect, sponsors, this divorce,
Judging from Tiger’s play he is no more than a cub on course,
And it shall stay that way until he repents with honest remorse.
God has blessed you to be the greatest golfer the world has ever known,
And you repay the Father with prayer under the guise of Buddha’s dome?
Hey! Better wake-up because very soon your life will be over and done,
As kingdom entrance into the narrow gate is small as a par 4 hole in one.
Martin Luther King
Martin Luther KIng...
you were a torch
that lit a darkened world,
for all those oppressed,
for the downtrodden and weary...
you looked beneath the skin,
and saw the soul!
life cut short,
far too soon by
the forces of hatred and fear...
Martin, we need you now!
your vision lives in the
hope of the oppressed...
your determination our anchor,
your heart beats strong
in each of us who believe!
Stepping Out Of Captivity
Mending our ways toward others
This is a specific will of God
The Holy Spirit imparts to all believers
This is the love of one God, one Father
Neither shall you fret nor worry
This will not meet the needs of others
We are not to dismay the power of God
Jesus died to bring faith during distress
Cast our hearts into the Lord's hands
He says to trust and lean on Him
This is where He mends us within
He shows His grace that never ends
Separating ourselves from this world
This contracts the words of God
Not mentioning the rewards He has for us
God is our perfect mentor from Heaven
by Debra Stewart, November 2009
The Light of Christ In The Present Darkness
As the world becomes much darker, we have one hope that's brighter,
And as this world sinks even lower, our hope above is even higher,
Many people alive today look to a world body for the hope it brings,
And there is a darker man of deception who is waiting in the wings.
He's coming with a plan for peace while promising many other things,
But, through his false deceptive peace he will destroy many beings.
So as the days do get darker, we must indeed shine forth our light,
For the very day that we are raptured, will become the darkest night.
The needed Light for this darkness is The Light of Christ my friend,
He's the only Hope for the entire world as it spins towards the end.
After Christ left the earth He sent The Spirit with power and might,
For its The Holy Spirit within us who helps us send forth His Light.
For God gave us not a spirit of timidity, but a spirit of His power,
And that my friend should encourage us in the darkness of this hour.
But many Christians allow the world to put a basket over their light,
When the time it is really needed, is in the darkness of the night.
All through David's darkest trials, he joyfully lifted up The Lord,
Even in his darkest hour with true repentance his light was restored.
With the day almost over, like King David, we can say in the night,
You are my lamp, O LORD; for the LORD turns my darkness into light.
(Copyright © 10/2002)
Intellectually smart are many today, but are lost in the spiritual fray,
Intelligent but, spiritually ignorant, about Truth, which God has sent,
Truth that surpasses present time; Truth without end by His Design,
Eternal Truth, that leads men to see, soon all must face an eternity.
Earthly intellect, all may not have, but, God offers in Christ a salve,
To open one’s eyes to much more, Truth from Him sound and sure.
Truth from The Word, as we hear it, applied through The Holy Spirit,
To each and to every earthly life, who come to God in Jesus Christ.
Earthly knowledge we have presently, shall be of little use eternally,
As upon each soul will be God’s hand, changing all we understand,
For no earthly mind can conceive, what in Heaven, we shall receive,
When we know the Truths of God, to be lifted from this earthly sod.
No mind has the knowledge of, what was prepared by Christ above,
Nor can any mind comprehend, how time in eternity, we shall spend,
And it’s the mindset of the earth, that denies a need of spiritual birth,
Swaying even the brightest men, from God’s Truth, to be born again.
Even men who are truly bright, avoid the saving Truth of God’s Light,
Which transforms the heart of man, directing his mind to God’s Plan,
A change only wrought by Grace, when we give God a special place,
In our hearts, for His dear Son, Who can change the heart of anyone.
The Pearl Of Great Price
The pearl of great price was waiting...
In matchless majesty...
And he had no hesitating,
When he that pearl did see!
The merchant vowed that he would buy
The best that he could find
And so there was no asking why,
No doubt within his mind!
As with a perfect precious girl,
Like Esther in her day,
He fell in love with that pure pearl
And chose not to delay!
He ran to sell his treasures fast,
This best of all to own,
This blessing that was unsurpassed
That in the sea had grown...
When Jesus told the multitudes,
They smiled at what He said,
Because it changed their sullen moods
And thrilled their hearts instead!
To think, God's Kingdom costs much more
That Jesus bled and died,
To save lost souls, both rich and poor,
With love, arms open wide!
Through Calvary we learn so much!
We know that God forgives!
We know God grants His healing touch!
We know Lord Jesus lives!
We know the Holy Spirit shares
Himself with saints on Earth...
That's why the Father hears our prayers...
God knows how much we're worth...
To think, He would not spare His Son!
To think, He let Him die...
To think, through Christ lost souls are won,
Before the end draws nigh...
Thus Heaven waits each child of grace,
Who seeks to serve the King...
And blessed are those that see His face,
For He means everything...
Denis Martindale, copyright, June 2011.
The poem is about Rosalind Peters of
Revelation TV on Sky 581, here in the UK,
who wrote about The Pearl Of Great Price
in her blog on the Revelation TV website.
R Teenz is shown on Revelation TV...
It's presented by Rosalind Peters
here in the UK, as well as featured on
youtube, facebook and myspace...
and on facebook-dot-com/rteenz
and on myspace-dot-com/rteenz
R Teenz poem: tinyurl-dot-com/r-teenz
YOU can watch Revelation TV on Sky UK and
the website's Watch Now Internet connection.
Bible in Poetry: Gospel of St. Peter 1 (Chapter 3)
‘Be submissive to husbands, ’ Wives;
In case, they don’t believe the Word,
Seeing purity of your lives,
Their souls can be brought to the Lord.’
‘Your beauty shouldn’t be external,
From hair and clothes and jewelry,
But must be wholly internal,
From gentle and quiet spirit,
Which is of worth more in God’s sight.’
‘For, this is how holy women
Of past revealed their beauty great,
By putting hope in Heaven’s ways,
And submitting to their one mate,
Like Sarah calling Abraham, ‘Master’! .
You are her daughters when you do
Things rightly without any fear.’
‘And husbands, live in the same way
With consideration as your base;
Respect your weaker partner well,
As heirs to gift of life that’s swell;
Give them that tender, loving touch
So that nothing hinders your prayers much.
Suffering for Doing Good:
In harmony, live with brethren,
Be humble, kind to men, women;
Repay not evil by evil;
Return not insult by insult;
Bless those who are unfair to you;
Heaven expects you, this to do.
‘For, whoev’r loves his earthly life
And sees good days,
Must keep his tongue from evil rife,
And lips from deceit’s ways! ’
‘From evil, he must turn, do good;
He must seek peace ad pursue it;
The Lord’s eyes track His righteous ones;
His ears hear their fervent prayers;
The Lord’s face abhors evil ones.’
‘If eager to do good, can you be harmed?
But if you suffer still, you are blessed;
Do not fear what the wicked fear;
Put Christ our Lord, inside your heart.’
‘Prepare to answer all who ask
You reasons for the hope you have;
And do this gently, with respect,
And keep your conscience always clear.’
‘The speakers with malice in hearts,
Against your good rapport with Christ,
Will be ashamed for their slander! ’
‘Suff’r for goodness sake, if God’s will;
’Tis better than doing evil;
For, Christ had died for sins of all,
And bring souls to His Father, God.’
‘Though dead by body, Jesus was
Kept alive by Holy Spirit,
And preached to spirits in prison,
Who disobeyed the patient God,
While ark was built in Noah’s days.
When Deluge watered in torrents,
None were saved except eight good.’
‘In baptism, the same water,
Saves souls from rod of God instead,
Removing not the body’s dirt,
But by renewed pledge to His word.
It saves you through the risen Christ,
Who’s in heaven, to God’s hand right,
With angels, saints, in divine pow’r! ’
Copyright by Dr John Celes 6-21-2007