Monday, 12 March 2012

A hymn to darkness

WHEN the day of toil is ended,
And night cometh cool and still,
Clad in starry spangled raiment,
Trailing softly o'er the hill,
Hand and heart and aching brain
In her peace forget their pain.

Grateful presence of the night-time
Soft restraint of sleep so sweet,
Holding still our fervent fingers,
Gently chaining restless feet;—
They who labour in the light
Hail the holy, holy night.

May we rise with hearts more hopeful
For to-morrow and its strife,
With a stronger aspiration
And resolve for nobler life,
Consecrated all anew,
To the good, the pure, the true.

Robert Henry Underwood Bloor (160 in Hymns of Modern Thought)

Robert Henry Underwood Bloor, minister of  Trowbridge Unitarians from 1895 to 1899, was a former Anglican who had adopted Unitarian views. After ministering at Trowbridge, he went on to be minister for Brighton Unitarian Church and Essex Church in Kensington. He was the author of Christianity & the Religious Drama, which he gave as the Essex hall lecture for 1928, and which was published by Beacon Press in 1930. He contributed five hymns (numbers 69104114132and 160) to the hymn-book of the Leicester Secular Society, Hymns of Modern Thought. Several other Unitarian authors (Sarah Flower Adams, Stopford Brooke, Frederick Lucian Hosmer, Moncure Conway, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Samuel Longfellow) appear on the list of contributors; they were mainly of the Transcendentalist and humanist persuasion. 

Wednesday, 7 March 2012

Nature Boy

There was a boy
A very strange enchanted boy
They say he wandered very far, very far
Over land and sea
A little shy
And sad of eye
But very wise
Was he 
And then one day
A magic day he came my way
And while we spoke of many things, fools and kings
This he said to me
"The greatest thing
You'll ever learn
Is just to love
And be loved
In return"
(instrumental interlude)
"The greatest thing
You'll ever learn
Is just to love
And be loved
In return" 
~ eden ahbez

Saturday, 3 March 2012

The Green Chapel

Then spurred he Gringolet, and betook himself along the path by the side of a wood, and rode over a rough hill into the valley. And he lingered there some time, and a wild place he thought it, for he saw no resting-place, but only high hills on both sides, and rough, rugged rocks and huge boulders, and the hill shadows seemed desolating to him. Then he drew up his horse, and it seemed wondrous strange to him that he saw not the Green Chapel on any side. At length a little way off he caught sight of a round hillock by the side of a brook, and there was a ford across the brook, and the water therein bubbled as though it were boiling. The knight caught up the reins and came to the hill, alighted, and tied up the reins to the rugged branch of a tree. Then he went to the hill and walked round about it, debating within himself what place it might be. It had a hole at the end and on either side, and it was overgrown with tufts of grass and was all round and hollow within. He thought it naught but an old cave or a crevice. Within and about it there seemed to be a spell. 'Ah lord,' quoth the gentle knight, 'Is this the green chapel?'
Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, ll 2160 - 2186

Friday, 2 March 2012


Pan, by Inertia K
Your voice is heard
in the whispering of the olive trees
Your hoofbeats
echo in the rain on the roof at night
Your goaty fragrance
finds its way into my dreams
The curve of your back
is in the sinuous folds of the land
The crook of your horns
is in the crescent Moon
The music of your pipes
is whistling down the wind
Your wild dancing
stirs the Maenads to ecastic frenzy.
Your holy tree
is growing by the altar
next to my heart.

Pan, whose home is the wilderness
may I not fear the wild places
far from human habitat
may I not fear the wind
that brings constant change
may I not fear the sublime moment
of recognising my own smallness
in the face of all that is

(Yvonne Aburrow)

Meditation from Thais

My favourite piece of music of all time. So beautiful.