The Land-mark

The service of Commination or Denouncing of God’s Anger and Judgements Against Sinners is to be found in the Book of Common Prayer. Nowadays, it is seldom heard.

Now walk more warily in these dangerous days,
Upon the tablets read the precepts ten,
And keep your feet from broad and crooked ways,
And to each sentence, cry, “Amen! Amen!”
Now kneel and pray:
For cursed is he that slayeth innocence,
And cursed who leads the blind out of their way,
And cursed who taketh man for his defence.
The sons of Adam and the heirs of sin,
Must listen to the godly discipline.
But one thing yet remains – be still, and hark:
Cursed is he who removeth his neighbour’s land-mark.

For when the land-marks fail, who can sow
And know that where he sows there shall he reap?
The widow and the fatherless neglected go,
Our children curse their parents, and our women weep
And wring their hands.
The land lies fallow round the roofless town,
Within the sanctuary the carven image stands.
Upon ourselves we bring the judgement down.
An eye will cost an eye, a tooth a tooth –
Why can we never see this blinding truth?
Across the wasted nation falls the dark.
Cursed is he who removeth his neighbour’s land-mark.

A Time to Gather Stones Together

The wall has fallen, and the vine
Lies withered under wind-blown dust.
Dry shards lie in the empty press.
Stones lie scattered, and in fields untilled
Between the blasted ears stalk starving kine.
It is time to gather stones, and build,
And time to seek redress,
So gather in the conclave of the just,
That the law might be fulfilled.

Gather outside the city gate,
And hear the preaching of the Pharisee.
Stand close beside your neighbour,
But do not look into his eyes.
Who knows what he might see?
Here the young man from Tarsus stands,
So strip for holy labour,
And lay your cloaks about his feet.
A naked man kneels on the sand
Before the judgement seat,
And turns his face towards the sky.
Take up the stone, and feel the heavy weight,
Lying ready in your waiting hand.

The Gavel

The Gavel

“How long, O Lord, how long? I feel the pain,
The smashing blows that split along the grain.
Break me in pieces if thou wilt, do not prolong
This fearful punishment. For what have I done wrong?”

The Craftsman

The Craftsman answered, “I do not work in haste,
But still take comfort. What’s struck off is worthless waste.
From your uneven shape, alone I can
Carve out the perfect stone, to fit the greater plan.
Those that need cutting most, I do not love the less,
On them I spend my greatest pains and carefulness.
You feel the smarting blows, but you must understand
Behind the smiting gavel lies the guiding hand.”

Two sonnets

Samson

I saw my people lost and overthrown.
I trusted in my strength, and saw it fail.
Blinded and mocked, on every aching bone
I feel the blows, as from a thresher’s flail.
In this false temple, how can I atone?
I smell the blood and incense, rank and stale,
My fingers touch the rough, ill-carven stone,
I hear the chanting of the priests of Baal.
Yet, as I pray, I feel the mighty stones
Crack apart; the unholy pillars spread –
Above, the massive lintel grates and groans –
The roar of masonry sounds overhead –
Buttress and column, arch, vault, turret – all
The impious temple crashes down in hideous fall!

Solomon

Over the chosen people called to reign,
I sent for brass, and cunning men of Tyre;
I cast the pillars and the golden chain,
And purified the silver in the fire.
Upon the threshing floor of Mount Moriah
The temple stands – but is all in vain?
How can a mortal man hope to aspire
To build for One the heavens cannot contain?
And yet, beneath the roof of cedar balks,
The people stand devout and dutiful,
About the pavement where the Levite walks,
Within the pillared gate called “Beautiful”.
Peace lies within her walls, and all is still
Within the holy temple, on the holy hill.

A Time to Cast Away Stones (Ecclesiastes, 3, 5)

Did you set out to build a mighty tower?
How fair the drawing of your great design!
And yet the task was far beyond your power;
What you cannot complete, you must resign.
Leave this abandoned shell,
And build an humbler house in which to dwell…
But vanity, vanity –
Why is it that we burden ourselves so?
The worthless stones – the weary, heavy stones,
Cast them aside, pass on, and let them go.

Did you sit down to carve in wrathful mood
And find your chisel mar, and botch, and slip?
Work done in anger rarely comes to good
Or ever leads to honest craftsmanship.
But do not brood:
The broken stone can never be renewed…
But vanity, vanity –
Why do we carry them when use has gone?
The ugly stones – the spoiled, misshapen stones,
Let them go, cast them aside, pass on.

Or did you feel the very worst of all?
For did you dwell in peace with those you trust?
Then the foundations shifted. Down fell roof and wall,
Leaving you stunned and aching in the dust.
It’s in the past.
Rubble can make foundations firmer than the last…
But vanity, vanity –
Why do we cling to things when hope has died?
The painful stones – the cruel, jagged stones,
Pass on, and let them go. Cast them aside.

From Labour to Refreshment

The Master calls the labourers
To take a little ease,
To lay aside their burdens,
And to rest beneath the trees;
No man can always labour,
Throughout the heat of day,
So we obey the Master’s law
All mortal things obey.

For when the Great Creator
Created holy light,
He also made the darkness,
For our peaceful rest at night;
For six days did he labour,
Upon his sacred plan,
Then turned he to refreshment,
And decreed the same for man.

And as unskilled apprentices,
We work with blunted tools,
And hack the stone, and rarely heed
Our Master’s simple rules;
Yet soon our labour’s ended,
And we’ll hear the final call
From labour to refreshment,
In the grandest lodge of all.

Yet as we cannot always toil,
We cannot always rest,
For work and ease are both alike
In equal measure blessed;
So we’ll beg our worthy Master,
To give us work to do:
To gird our loins for labour,
And to learn the craft anew!