Thank you. That meant alot to me. You helped keep me calm

One good poem deserves another.

The Hound of Heaven -- by Francis Thompson


 
   I fled Him, down the nights and down the days;
I fled Him, down the arches of the years;
I fled Him, down the labyrinthine ways
Of my own mind; and in the mist of tears
I hid from Him, and under running laughter.
Up vistaed hopes I sped;
And shot, precipitated,
Adown Titanic glooms of chasmed fears,
From those strong Feet that followed, followed after.
But with unhurrying chase,
And unperturbèd pace,
Deliberate speed, majestic instancy,
They beat - and a Voice beat
More instant than the Feet -
"All things betray thee, who betrayest Me."

    I pleaded, outlaw-wise,
    By many a hearted casement, curtained red,
    Trellised with intertwining charities;
    (For, though I knew His love Who followèd,
    Yet I was sore adread
    Lest, having Him, I must have naught beside.)
    But, if one little casement parted wide,
    The gust of His approach would clash it to.
    Fear wist not to evade as Love wist to pursue.
    Across the margent of the world I fled,
    And troubled the gold gateways of the stars,
    Smiting for shelter on their clangèd bars;
    Fretted to dulcet jars
    And silvern chatter the pale ports o' the moon.
    I said to Dawn: Be sudden - to Eve: Be soon;
    With thy young skiey blossoms heap me over
    From this tremendous Lover -
    Float thy vague veil about me, lest He see!
    I tempted all His servitors, but to find
    My own betrayal in their constancy,
    In faith to Him their fickleness to me,
    Their traitorous trueness, and their loyal deceit.
    To all swift things for swiftness did I sue;
    Clung to the whistling mane of every wind.
    But whether they swept, smoothly fleet,
    The long savannahs of the blue;
    Or whether, Thunder-driven,
    They clanged His chariot 'thwart a heaven,
    Plashy with flying lightnings round the spurn o' their feet: -
    Fear wist not to evade as Love wist to pursue.
    Still with unhurrying chase,
    And unperturbèd pace,
    Deliberate speed, majestic instancy,
    Came on the following Feet,
    And a Voice above their beat -
    "Naught shelters thee, who wilt not shelter Me."

            Now of that long pursuit
            Comes on at had the bruit;
            That Voice is round me like a bursting sea:
            "And is thy earth so marred,
            Shattered in shard on shard?
            Lo, all things fly thee, for thou fliest Me!
            Strange, piteous, futile thing!
            Wherfore should any set thee love apart?
            Seeing none but I make much of naught" (He said),
            "And human love needs human meriting:
            How hast thou merited -
            Of all man's clotted clay, the dingiest clot?
            Alack, thou knowest not
            How little worthy of any love thou art!
            Whom wilt thou find to love ignoble thee,
            Save Me, save only Me?
            All which I took from thee I did but take,
            Not for thy harms,
            But just that thou might'st seek it in My arms.
            All which thy child's mistake
            Fancies as lost, I have stored for thee at home:
            Rise, clasp My hand, and come."

    Halts by me that footfall:
    Is my gloom, after all,
    Shade of His hand, outstretched caressingly?
    "Ah, fondest, blindest, weakest,
    I am He Whom thou seekest!
    Thou dravest love from thee, who dravest Me."

St. Crispen's Day Speech
William Shakespeare, 1599
                          Enter the KING
WESTMORELAND. O that we now had here
    But one ten thousand of those men in England
    That do no work to-day!
 
KING. What's he that wishes so?
    My cousin Westmoreland? No, my fair cousin;
    If we are mark'd to die, we are enow
    To do our country loss; and if to live,
    The fewer men, the greater share of honour.
    God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.
    By Jove, I am not covetous for gold,
    Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;
    It yearns me not if men my garments wear;
    Such outward things dwell not in my desires.
    But if it be a sin to covet honour,
    I am the most offending soul alive.
    No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England.
    God's peace! I would not lose so great an honour
    As one man more methinks would share from me
    For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more!
    Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host,
    That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
    Let him depart; his passport shall be made,
    And crowns for convoy put into his purse;
    We would not die in that man's company
    That fears his fellowship to die with us.
    This day is call'd the feast of Crispian.
    He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
    Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd,
    And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
    He that shall live this day, and see old age,
    Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
    And say 'To-morrow is Saint Crispian.'
    Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,
    And say 'These wounds I had on Crispian's day.'
    Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
    But he'll remember, with advantages,
    What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,
    Familiar in his mouth as household words-
    Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter,
    Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester-
    Be in their flowing cups freshly rememb'red.
    This story shall the good man teach his son;
    And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,
    From this day to the ending of the world,
    But we in it shall be remembered-
    We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
    For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
    Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
    This day shall gentle his condition;
    And gentlemen in England now-a-bed
    Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here,
    And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
    That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.

This is one of my favorite poems:

Through The Storms

I did not know His love before,
the way I know it now.
I could not see my need for Him,
my pride would not allow.

I had it all, without a care,
the "Self-sufficient" lie.
My path was smooth, my sea was still,
not a cloud was in my sky.

I thought I knew His love for me,
I thought I'd seen His grace,
I thought I did not need to grow,
I thought I'd found my place.

But then the way grew rough and dark,
the storm clouds quickly rolled;
The waves began to rock my ship,
my anchor would not hold.

The ship that I had built myself
was made of foolish pride.
It fell apart and left me bare,
with nowhere else to hide.

I had no strength or faith to face
the trials that lay ahead,
And so I simply prayed to Him
and bowed my weary head.

His loving arms enveloped me,
and then He helped me stand.
He said, "You still must face this storm,
but I will hold your hand."

So through the dark and lonely night
He guided me through pain.
I could not see the light of day
or when the storm might wane.

Yet through the aches and endless tears,
my faith began to grow.
I could not see it at the time,
but my light began to glow.

I saw God's love in brand new light,
His grace and mercy, too.
For only when all self was gone
could Jesus' love shine through.

It was not easy in the storm,
I sometimes wondered, "Why?"
At times I thought, "I can't go on."
I'd hurt, and doubt, and cry.

But Jesus never left my side,
He guided me each day.
Through pain and strife,
through fire and flood,
He helped me all the way.

And now I see as never before
how great His love can be.
How in my weakness He is strong,
how Jesus cares for me!

He worked it all out for my good,
although the way was rough.
He only sent what I could bear,
and then He cried, "Enough!"

He raised His hand and said, "Be still!"
He made the storm clouds cease.
He opened up the gates of joy
and flooded me with peace.

I saw His face now clearer still,
I felt His presence strong,
I found anew His faithfulness,
He never did me wrong.

Now I know more storms will come,
but only for my good,
For pain and tears have helped me grow
as naught else ever could.

I still have so much more to learn
as Jesus works in me;
If in the storm I'll love Him more,
that's where I want to be!

~ Unknown Author ~