Sometimes when I pray, I utter the words but I do not feel or think them.
Sometimes when I pray, I utter the words thinking about what I say, but not feeling them.
Sometimes when I pray, I utter the words and I both think and feel what I say.
An act of will cannot make me feel, nor stop my mind from wandering. An act of will can only make me utter.
So, I shall utter the words and let the Spirit do the rest, guiding my mind and heart as he wills.
—A celtic prayer (unattributed);
as quoted by Doug McKelvey on The Habit podcast (episode page)
The power of God to hold and lead
His eye to watch, His might to stay
His ear to hearken to my need
The wisdom of my God to teach
His hand to guide His shield to ward
The word of God to give me speech
His heavenly host to be my guard
The Mighty Three
My protection be
Encircling me
You are around
My life, my home
Encircling me
O sacred Three
The Mighty Three
I arise today
Through a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity,
Through belief in the Threeness,
Through confession of the Oneness
of the Creator of creation.
I arise today
Through the strength of Christ's birth with His baptism,
Through the strength of His crucifixion with His burial,
Through the strength of His resurrection with His ascension,
Through the strength of His descent for the judgment of doom.
I arise today...
Phôs hilaròn hagías dóxēs, athanátou Patrós,
ouraníou, hagíou, mákaros, Iēsoû Christé,
elthóntes epì tḕn hēlíou dýsin, idóntes phôs hesperinón,
hymnoûmen Patéra, Hyión, kaì Hágion Pneûma, Theón.
Áxión se en pâsi kairoîs hymneîsthai phōnaîs aisíais,
Hyiè Theoû, zoḕn ho didoús, diò ho kósmos sè doxázei.
and ransom captive Israel
that mourns in lonely exile here
until the Son of God appear.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Immanuel
shall come to you, O Israel.
O come, O Wisdom from on high,
who ordered all things mightily;
to us the path of knowledge show
and teach us in its ways to go.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Immanuel
shall come to you, O Israel.
O come, O come, great Lord of might,
who to your tribes on Sinai's height
in ancient times did give the law
in cloud and majesty and awe.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Immanuel
shall come to you, O Israel.
O come, O Branch of Jesse's stem,
unto your own and rescue them!
From depths of hell your people save,
and give them victory o'er the grave.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Immanuel
shall come to you, O Israel.
O come, O Key of David, come
and open wide our heavenly home.
Make safe for us the heavenward road
and bar the way to death's abode.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Immanuel
shall come to you, O Israel.
O come, O Bright and Morning Star,
and bring us comfort from afar!
Dispel the shadows of the night
and turn our darkness into light.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Immanuel
shall come to you, O Israel.
O come, O King of nations, bind
in one the hearts of all mankind.
Bid all our sad divisions cease
and be yourself our King of Peace.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Immanuel
shall come to you, O Israel.
…Before he reached the town, the stars were out, and the last of the sunset had faded away… “I’ve got to do with them all!” He said to himself, looking up. “There lie the fields of my future, when this chain of gravity is unbound from my feet! Blessed am I here now, my God, and blessed shall I be there then."
When he reached the suburbs, the light of homes was shining through curtains of all colours. “Every nest has its own birds … Every heart its own joys!” Just then, he was in no mood to think of the sorrows. But the sorrows are sickly things and die, while the joys are strong divine children, and shall live for evermore.
—Mary Marston, chapter LVI
George MacDonald
That I had ears until I heard the cry
As of a mighty man in agony:
“How long, Lord, shall I lie thus foul and slow?
The arrows of thy lightning through me go,
And sting and torture me—yet here I lie
A shapeless mass that scarce can mould a sigh.”
The darkness thinned; I saw a thing below,
Like sheeted corpse a knot at head and feet.
Slow clomb the sun the mountains of the dead,
And looked upon the world: the silence broke!
A blinding struggle! then the thunderous beat
Of great exulting pinions stroke on stroke!
And from that world a mighty angel fled.
—Thomas Wingfold, Curate, chapter VIII
George MacDonald
Where human footsteps never trod,
How happy I could be!
Thou my repose from care, my Light,
Amidst the darkness of the night,
In solitude my Company.
—attributed to Propertius,
an ancient poet.