BEAUTIFUL POEMS about GOD!

[noy]

i'll set my eyes on You in Holy mount Zion
where the lord of Lords sits on the throne

i lift my hands to You in adoration
to the ends of the earth let it be known
that it's all about You and the salvation
that You bring into my home

Yes it's all about You, God of Zion
the reason i'm singing this song

---God of Zion by JerichoMarch

actually song ni siya...hahaha!!! poetic man gihapun ang lyrics so payts ra...

[Breakeven]

very uplifting inyong gishare bro! so nice......

[Breakeven]

God’s Anvil

When God wants to drill a man
And thrill a man
And skill a man
When God wants to mold a man
To play the noblest part

When He yearns with all His heart
To create so great and bold a man
That all the world shall be amazed,
Watch His methods, watch His ways!

How He ruthlessly perfects
Whom He royally elects!
How He hammers him and hurts him
And with mighty blows converts him
Into shapes and forms of clay
Which only God can understand.

How He bends but never breaks
When his good He undertakes
How He uses whom He chooses
And with mighty power infuses him
With every act induces him
To try His splendor out –
God knows what He’s about.

- Poet Unknown

[noy]

People travel to wonder at the height of mountains,
at the huge waves of the sea,
at the long courses of rivers,
at the vast compass of the ocean,
at the circular motion of the stars;
And they pass by themselves without wondering.

~St. Augustine

[Breakeven]

People travel to wonder at the height of mountains,
at the huge waves of the sea,
at the long courses of rivers,
at the vast compass of the ocean,
at the circular motion of the stars;
And they pass by themselves without wondering.

~St. Augustine

I can relate this to a story i heard from Ravi bro.....but it's really true. Daghan tinuod mga bright karon maabot na laing kalibutan ang hisgutan pero wala kabalo kung asa/unsa/kinsa sya.

Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson go on a camping trip, set up their tent, and fall asleep. Some hours later, Holmes wakes his faithful friend.

"Watson, look up at the sky and tell me what you see."

Watson replies, "I see millions of stars."

"What does that tell you?"

Watson ponders for a minute. "Astronomically speaking, it tells me that there are millions of galaxies and potentially billions of planets. Astrologically, it tells me that Saturn is in Leo. Time wise, it appears to be approximately a quarter past three. Theologically, it's evident the Lord is all-powerful and we are small and insignificant. Meteorologically, it seems we will have a beautiful day tomorrow. What does it tell you?"

Holmes is silent for a moment, then speaks. "Watson, you idiot, someone has stolen our tent."

[noy]

if someone looks for a miracle...
ask that person to look at the mirror for there he will find his miracle..
fearfully and wonderfully made

[jovipeorliohacokijo]

There is an indefinable mysterious Power
that pervades everything.
I feel It, though I do not see It.

It is this unseen Power
which makes Itself felt and yet defies all proof,
because It is so unlike all that I perceive through my senses.
It transcends the senses....

That informing Power or Spirit is God....
For I can see that in the midst of death life persists,
in the midst of untruth, truth persists,
in the midst of darkness light persists.

Hence I gather that God is Life, Truth, Light.
He is love. He is supreme good.
But he is no God who merely satisfies the intellect
If He ever does.
God to be God must rule the heart and transform it.

~ Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi
( Young India, October 11, 1928 )

[Bears Grill]

This is perhaps the earliest satirical poem against religious fanaticism. It's from the great Persian, Omar Khayyam, a somewhat of a renaissance man in his time. He was a philosopher, mathematician, astronomer and poet. Best known for the Khayyám-Saccheri quadrilateral in math and is thought to be one of the earliest proponents of heliocentrism.

The complete poem is rather long, so I took the liberty to paste together only the relevant parts.

Rubáiyát
by Omar Khayyám
(A Paraphrase from Several Literal Translations by Richard Le Gallienne)

To all of us the thought of heaven is dear—
Why not be sure of it and make it here?
No doubt there is a heaven yonder too,
But ’tis so far away—and you are near.

Men talk of heaven,—there is no heaven but here;
Men talk of hell,—there is no hell but here;
Men of hereafters talk, and future lives,—
O love, there is no other life—but here.

You want to know the Secret—so did I,
Low in the dust I sought it, and on high
Sought it in awful flight from star to star,
The Sultan’s watchman of the starry sky.

Up, up, where Parwín’s hoofs stamp heaven’s floor,
My soul went knocking at each starry door,
Till on the stilly top of heaven’s stair,
Clear-eyed I looked—and laughed—and climbed no more.

Of all my seeking this is all my gain:
No agony of any mortal brain
Shall wrest the secret of the life of man;
The Search has taught me that the Search is vain.

Yet sometimes on a sudden all seems clear—
Hush! hush! my soul, the Secret draweth near;
Make silence ready for the speech divine—
If Heaven should speak, and there be none to hear!

Yea! sometimes on the instant all seems plain,
The simple sun could tell us, or the rain;
The world, caught dreaming with a look of heaven,
Seems on a sudden tip-toe to explain.

Like to a maid who exquisitely turns
A promising face to him who, waiting, burns
In hell to hear her answer—so the world
Tricks all, and hints what no man ever learns.

Look not above, there is no answer there;
Pray not, for no one listens to your prayer;
NEAR is as near to God as any FAR,
And HERE is just the same deceit as THERE.

But here are wine and beautiful young girls,
Be wise and hide your sorrows in their curls,
Dive as you will in life’s mysterious sea,
You shall not bring us any better pearls.

Allah, perchance, the secret word might spell;
If Allah be, He keeps His secret well;
What He hath hidden, who shall hope to find?
Shall God His secret to a maggot tell?

So since with all my passion and my skill,
The world’s mysterious meaning mocks me still,
Shall I not piously believe that I
Am kept in darkness by the heavenly will?

The Koran! well, come put me to the test—
Lovely old book in hideous error drest—
Believe me, I can quote the Koran too,
The unbeliever knows his Koran best.

And do you think that unto such as you,
A maggot-minded, starved, fanatic crew,
God gave the Secret, and denied it me?—
Well, well, what matters it! believe that too.

Old Khayyám, say you, is a debauchee;
If only you were half so good as he!
He sins no sins but gentle drunkenness,
Great-hearted mirth, and kind adultery.

But yours the cold heart, and the murderous tongue,
The wintry soul that hates to hear a song,
The close-shut fist, the mean and measuring eye,
And all the little poisoned ways of wrong.

So I be written in the Book of Love,
I have no care about that book above;
Erase my name, or write it, as you please—
So I be written in the Book of Love.

What care I, love, for what the Sufis say?
The Sufis are but drunk another way;
So you be drunk, it matters not the means,
So you be drunk—and glorify your clay.

Drunken myself, and with a merry mind,
An old man passed me, all in vine-leaves twined;
I said, “Old man, hast thou forgotten God?”
“Go, drink yourself,” he said, “for God is kind.”

“Did God set grapes a-growing, do you think,
And at the same time make it sin to drink?
Give thanks to HIM who foreordained it thus—
Surely HE loves to hear the glasses clink!”

[machinecult]

Who can forget this Gaelic Christian hymn?

Morning Has Broken

Morning has broken, like the first morning
Blackbird has spoken, like the first bird
Praise for the singing, praise for the morning
Praise for them springing fresh from the Word.

Sweet the rain's new fall, sunlit from heaven
Like the first dewfall, on the first grass
Praise for the sweetness of the wet garden
Sprung in completeness where His feet pass.

Mine is the sunlight, mine is the morning
Born of the one light, Eden saw play
Praise with elation, praise every morning
God's recreation of the new day.

[Breakeven]

This is what's happening in our world today.
From the words of English Journalist Malcolm Muggeridge:

If God is dead, somebody is going to have to take his place. It will be megalomania or erotomania, the drive for power or the drive for pleasure, the clenched fist or the phallus, Hitler or Hugh Heffner.12

Muggeridge’s conclusion that either a power-monger or a *** peddler would take the reigns in the place of God is very much in keeping with the disarray of society today.