It is God’s love that speaks to me in the birds and streams; but also behind the clamor of the city God speaks to me in His judgments, and all these things are seeds sent to me from His will.
If they would take root in my liberty, and if His will would grow from my freedom, I would become the love that He is, and my harvest would be His glory and my own joy.
Thomas Merton,Seeds of Contemplation
We celebrate spring’s returning and the rejuvenation of the natural world.
Let us be moved by this vast and gentle insistence that goodness shall return,
that warmth and life shall succeed.
Help us to understand our place in this miracle.
Let us see that as a bird now builds its nest, bravely,
with bits and piece, so we must build human faith.
It is our simple duty;
it is the highest art;
it is our natural and vital role within the miracle of spring;
the creation of faith.
Michael Leunig When I Talk to You: A Cartoonist Talks to God
Some days, although we cannot pray, a prayer
utters itself. So, a woman will lift
her head from the sieve of her hands and stare
at the minims sung by a tree, a sudden gift.
Some nights, although we are faithless, the truth
enters our hearts, that small familiar pain;
then a man will stand stock-still, hearing his youth
in the distant Latin chanting of a train.
Pray for us now. Grade 1 piano scales
console the lodger looking out across
a Midlands town. Then dusk, and someone calls
a child’s name as though they named their loss.
Darkness outside. Inside, the radio’s prayer –
Rockall. Malin. Dogger. Finisterre.
Carol Ann Duffy