A New Song Unto The Lord
Sonnets of Devotion and Praise
By S. M. Hillis
Introduction
I began writing these poems as an attempt to internalize for myself the teachings and spirit of Christ, as He is understood in the tradition and wisdom of the Orthodox Church. Many of them have been published in a journal called Orthodox Canada, and I can only say that they are the product of my ongoing struggle for Truth. They were composed over the space of a year, beginning in June of 2006 and ending in August of 2007. I commend them to my reader and to God. May they speak for themselves!
I.
To Thee, to Thee, Almighty God, I bring
These numbers and these rhymes which have before
Been granted me, a novice bard. No more
Must they, by my distorted minstreling
Be wrestled with; and yet, a purer thing,
Thy Living Word, shall cause these hymns to soar,
And by Thy Will, which split the rock to pour
Its waters forth, this barren soul doth sing.
By Grace alone, by Thee, beloved Lord,
Is any word of truth proclaimed or thought.
To me, no praise, nor any rich reward
Is due, for I, myself alone, am nought.
I bring to Thee my humble treasure-hoard
Of untried gold. Let it by Thee be wrought!
II.
To be thy servant, Lord, is what I seek.
My will doth dwell upon such trifling things
As meat and drink, and wealth of worldly kings,
Which make the soul within me small and weak.
As rain and wind the highest mountain-peak
Do grind to dust o're many million Springs,
So too my world-worn will to nothing brings
All good which I might think or do or speak.
My flesh is strong and seeks to bind me fast
Unto the earth where mortal things abide,
And yet my spirit, broken and downcast,
Doth wish to have Thee as its guard and guide.
To dwell where Truth and Joy and Beauty last
And are not dimmed, I must by Thee be tried.
III.
A prodigal, impassioned, pilgrim soul,
An exile self-declared, I wandered far
Afield: desire unfulfilled the star
By which I steered, as headstrong as a foal
Which knoweth not the bit. I sought the goal
Of truth, which all man's folly could not mar,
And so, upon the path where many are
The heavy steps of time, I paid my toll.
Although my inmost heart I did beguile
With knowledge, judged as wisdom by the world,
Yet Thou, oh Christ, didst never cease to smile
Upon my weary pilgrimage. I hurled
Myself down many stony steeps, and while
They broke me, Thou with tears my soul impearled.
IV.
O Father, take mine heart into Thine hand,
Though it be sharp and bitter as the frost.
Though warmth and light and love from it be lost,
O Father, let it melt at Thy command!
Though Adamant doth not so firmly stand
As do the rampart walls upon which host
On host of worldly wants parade and boast,
Yet Thou their full surrender canst demand.
Besieged by those which she once named as friends,
My soul doth plead for comfort and for aid.
She seeketh now to Thee to make amends,
Though all her former allies are betrayed.
O Father, raise Thy standard which defends
Thy precious children who in chains are laid.
V.
I seek Thy solace, Lord, I seek Thy will.
I seek what I must do to find the way
Which I must walk until that dreadful day
When I must stand before Thee. As the rill
Its course doth keep although it leap and spill
O're stone and steep, and will not go astray,
So I, before I sink beneath the clay
Of mortal earth, my wayward wants must kill.
And yet, not even Galen ever healed
His own infected body of disease.
And so, I must to Thy good wisdom yield
To find for my poor, fevered soul release.
So tell me, Lord, who art my strength and shield,
What journey must I take to gain Thy peace?
VI.
I cannot say that I am only dust,
A thing of dross, with nothing of great worth.
For though I am a thing of mortal birth,
It is in Imortality I trust.
The Lord did not create the chains of lust
Which bind me fast unto the things of earth.
It was not God who put in me this dearth
Of love and wisdom. No! For He is just!
Though made opaque by vain and dark desire,
Though buffeted by winds of hope and fear,
There burns in me a tiny spark of fire,
Which cannot die, for my heart's Lord is near!
My precious Lord, with hope Thou dost inspire
And counsel me: "Fear not! Be of good cheer!"
VII.
What sings within my soul? What beauty brings
And wrings from me the tears which now do fall
Unbid? What silent, silver sound doth call
My soul to weep for joy as deep as things
Of mortal flesh can feel? What spreadeth wings
Of purifying flame without a pall
Of smoke to dim the purity of all
The peace which in its ceaseless whisper rings?
It is The Father, and it is The son!
It is the love which each doth bear to each.
It is The Spirit too, The Holy One
Which for our good did Jesus Christ beseech
Be sent to all who wish His race to run
And seek The Truth, which He alone can teach.
VIII.
When Peter did deny and thrice did say
That he Thyself knew not, though he had seen
And known Thy love, an arrow sure and keen,
And all Thy pure and glorious array
Which on the mountain shone more bright than day,
Was this the greater sin than that which green
and jealous Judas, giving way to spleen,
Did do, when he for coins did Thee betray?
What matters it which sin is larger writ,
Or which, in lines of darker red is drawn
Upon the pages of eternity?
For Judas, all confounded in his wit,
Did sink beneath his sin, but at the dawn,
The fallen Peter came with tears to Thee.
IX.
Fall down, my soul, and weep for what thou wast:
A thing both high and free from mortal chains.
Oh sigh to be so bound amid the pains
And pomps of passion's dance of flame and frost,
As bark on rolling billows tempest-tossed,
While wave on wave doth whelm thee, and the rains
In driven deluge do descend. Thus wanes
Thine inner light until 'tis all-but lost.
Yet while thy lamp still feebly sendeth flame
From where thou liest, prostrate and contrite,
To where doth dwell the Light undimmed by eve,
Thou hast the grace to call upon the Name
Which is above all names, and in thy night,
His mercy as rich oil shalt receive.
X.
O Thou who art both Priest and Offering,
Both Lamb and Shepherd, Gift and He Who Gives;
O Thou who lay entombed and yet who lives,
To Thee I pledge myself, Immortal King.
And yet, My Lord, this is a little thing,
This gift a trifling, tarnished heart which strives
And seeks for tears, on which repentance thrives,
But tears from true humility do spring.
And sso I pray Thee, Lord, to let me see
How small a thing I give--a widow's mite
Compared with Thine unending love--my will.
Thy mercy true shall take that which is free
For me to squander or to spend aright,
And shall my soul with virtue's riches fill!
XI.
A broken heart is like a stream now free
From out its wintry prison-house of ice
And snow, wherein it once did lie, while thrice
The moon did wax and wane. Unmovingly
The frost-bound freshet glared in mockery
As though it spurned the sun whose rays entice
The coldest thing to warmth; and yet, when twice
Again the moon hath moved, a stream it be.
And so it doth progress within the heart
That seeketh for repentance and a true
Declaring of its wounded state. For long
And longer seemeth it unmoved, no dart
Of pain or joy to quicken it anew;
Yet Christ doth slowly waken it to song.
XII.
Awake, My Soul! Believe what thou hast seen!
For thou hast seen the Light of Truth revealed!
Though deep within thee lieth it concealed,
Thou needest but to rouse thyself. So mean
Art thou to slumber when the merest keen
And crystal ray of joy thine eyes unsealed
And showed thee thy true state. Why dost thou yield
Unto the dream, when wakened thou hast been?
How can the dream be better than The Truth,
Or passing laughter sweeter be than Joy
Unmixed with pain, as noon undimmed by night?
My Soul, be not so slothful or uncouth
To barter thy salvation for a toy!
Awake! Arise! Get thee unto the fight!
XIII.
Outside the vineyard gate, I stand and call
Unto the Lord thereof: "Please let me in!"
I seek not gold or silver for to win,
But only for to work till night doth fall.
Throughout the heat of day, I have been thrall
To every passing pleasure, pain and sin.
In idleness the morning did begin,
And until now, I laboured not at all.
But I have seen these workers' industry,
And ever and anon, some man or maid
Hath passed into the fields to glean or prune.
So here I stand, while daylight still there be,
And ask if I may lend some little aid.
I must be quick, for night is coming soon!
XIV.
(Lines Written Upon The Occasion Of A Double Baptism)
Three times the waters close above thy head,
For Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Thrice
Thy soul is cleansed from every dark device
Of cunning Satan. Christ, the three days-dead
And risen Lord, His sacred blood hath shed
And hath unbarred the gates of Paradise,
That unto thee the Pearl of Greatest Price--
His Kingdom--He might give, as He hath said.
The wounds of fallen man are blotted out!
Thy name is graven in a pure white stone
By Him who giveth immortality,
And men and angels, fields and forests, shout
With songs of praise and glory round His throne,
Because the Light of Truth doth shine in Thee.
XV.
When man did dwell in blessed blamelessness,
Amid the gold and green and azure-blue
Of Paradise, 'twas then he truly knew
His place in all creation's comeliness.
In Adam did our Lord and Father bless
The union of the earth with Heaven. Who
Can tell the mingled splendour of the two:
The dust of earth and gold of Godliness?
Though fallen now from that which we once were,
We ever seek a way to go beyond
The sting of death. Though buffetted by sin
And broken dreams, we seek unmingled Myrrh
To heal our hearts and souls. We seek the bond
Which through the risen Christ is ours to win!
XVI.
My soul, O Lord, my soul doth weep for Thee,
As doth the widow weep for him whose hand
So lately lay upon her brow. I stand
As lost as by her husband's grave doth she,
Now knowing well that parted she must be
From touch, from warmth, from all the things they planned
To labour for: their children, house and land
Which they did tend in love and charity.
And yet, my Christ, 'tis Thee who truly live
While I remain encumbered by the chains
Of passions rooted deep within me. Come
And labour with me, Lord, that I may give
Myself to Thee as bride to Holy Bridegroom. Pains
Will I endure if Thou wilt take me home!
XVII.
When Patrick stood upon the ancient hill
Of Irish kings, and with the holy light
Of Paschal flame did swiftly put to flight
The rule of fallen nature, he did fill
That land with joyous news that Christ did Kill
The ancient sway of death and reign of night.
With wood which might have kindled feast or rite
Of spring did Patrick kindle warmth from chill.
At Tara, when the Paschal flame did burn,
Christ's Conquering of death was written plain
Upon the earth and sky of Erin. There,
The Light of Hope did dawn. The land did learn
The Truth that Christ did die and rise again,
And is the Joy of Spring made pure and fair.
XVIII.
O far-sought haven of the storm-tossed heart!
O thou who guidest souls left lame and blind
Unto the Hope and Healer of the mind--
Thy Son--O Lady, come and take my part!
Though I by fallen faith and witch's art
Have acted with demonic pomp and twined
My life in snares of self-conceit which grind
The soul to dust, I must my journey start
Unto repentant peace and joyful rest
From passion's pain and from the weight of grief
Which I have borne from youth until this hour.
O virgin bright! O Mother pure and blest,
Unto my drowning spirit grant relief!
Come speedily to me in peace and power!
XIX.
The Bridegroom cometh! Tarry not too long,
My wretched, weary soul, amid the thick
And clinging sleep of sin! O trim thy wick,
And light thy vigil-lamp! Amongst the throng
Of virgins wise and prudent raise thy song
Of joy and join the feast! Do thou be quick
To let His long-awaited coming prick
Thee to the core! O let Him make thee strong!
The oil of grace must feed and fan the flame
Of faith which thou must ever keep alight
By prayer and praising of the King of kings!
But if thy lamp be dark, O heavy shame!
Thou shalt be cast into the bitter night.
So rise and watch! Await the joy He brings!
XX.
In alabaster was the ointment dear
Of spikenard kept, which scornful Judas said
Should have been sold, not poured upon the head
Of Christ, who turned and answered him in clear
And measured tones: "O Judas, have no fear!
For this is done as though unto the dead
In token of my burying. This dread
Yet simple act shall echo far and near!
While silver buyeth food for famished men,
This hunger will be with mankind until
Time's end; but few days hence I shall not be
As I am now. So let this woman then
Be lauded for her mercy which shall fill
The countless famished souls which follow Me."
XXI.
When came the women bearing myrrh unto
The tomb wherein their true hearts' Lord was laid,
They found the sealing stone removed, and, rayed
In shining white, a holy angel who
Did sit upon the boulder whence he drew
Their gaze unto the empty grave and said:
"He is not hear, but be ye not afraid!"
And with those words, he vanished in the dew
Of springing dawn. But while the women stood
In wonder, came the Lord Of Life in joy
And showed himself alive and whole indeed.
At last they knew that, though on Roman rood
He had been slain, death's strength He did destroy,
And from the chains of sin mankind he freed!
THE END
Begun: June, 2006
Finished: August, 2007