Do Not Disavow

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Do Not Disavow By: Rick Davis   When Charlemagne established law Salic in barb’rous land, The gospel flourished, and he saw Christ’s praise on every hand.   (“Do you approve his methods now?”) I do not disavow.   King Godfrey took Jerusalem From bloody paynim hands And brought a halt to Musselmen Invading Christian lands.   (“He did some mean things anyhow!”) I do not disavow.   King Richard with his scarlet shield And passant lions ‘bossed Rode forth again unto the field To regain what was lost.   (“His deeds at Acre you allow?”) I do not disavow.   Unto the Germans Luther brought The gospel full restored, And Calvin at Geneva taught The glory of the Lord.   (“The Jews? Servetus? Holy cow!”) I do not disavow.   Stonewall and Lee like knights of old Fought for their native soil, The true and lovely to uphold Against the tyrant’s spoil.   (“Those vile racists ...
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Advent Poem 4

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A Song for Simeon
by T.S. Eliot

Lord, the Roman hyacinths are blooming in bowls and
The winter sun creeps by the snow hills;
The stubborn season has made stand.
My life is light, waiting for the death wind,
Like a feather on the back of my hand.
Dust in sunlight and memory in corners
Wait for the wind that chills towards the dead land.

    Grant us thy peace.
I have walked many years in this city,
Kept faith and fast, provided for the poor,
Have given and taken honour and ease.
There went never any rejected from my door.
Who shall remember my house, where shall live my children's children
When the time of sorrow is come?
They will take to the goat's path, and the fox's home,
Fleeing from foreign faces and the foreign swords.

    Before the time of cords and scourges and lamentation
Grant us thy peace.
Before the stations of the mountain of desolation,
Before the certain hour of maternal sorrow,
Now at this birth season of decease,
Let the Infant, the still unspeaking and unspoken Word,
Grant Israel's consolation
    To one who has eighty years and no to-morrow.

    According to thy word.
They shall praise Thee and suffer in every generation
With glory and derision,
Light upon light, mounting the saints' stair.
Not for me the martyrdom, the ecstasy of thought and prayer,
Not for me the ultimate vision.
Grant me thy peace.
(And a sword shall pierce thy heart,
Thine also).
I am tired with my own life and the lives of those after me,
I am dying in my own death and the deaths of those after me.
Let they servant depart,
Having seen thy salvation.

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