Re: Psalm 72: 1-2, 10, 12-13. 1-9-2008.


 Religions > Atheism > Re: Psalm 72: 1-2, 10, 12-13. 1-9-2008.

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Topic: Religions > Atheism
User: "Bill M"
Date: 11 Jan 2008 06:43:45 AM
Object: Re: Psalm 72: 1-2, 10, 12-13. 1-9-2008.
<vivapadrepio@aol.com> wrote in message
news:30537f28-87d5-4e42-a8fb-1e01d5426fb9@x69g2000hsx.googlegroups.com...

A Prayer For The King.

Of Solomon.

O God, give your judgment to the king;
your justice to the son of kings;
That he may govern your people with justice,
your oppressed with right judgment.

May the kings of Tarshish
and the islands bring tribute,
the kings of Arabia and Seba
offer gifts.

For he rescues the poor when they cry out,
the oppressed who have no one to help.
He shows pity to the needy
and the poor
and saves the lives of the poor.

---------------

Also read:

1 John 4: 11-18.
Mark 6: 45-52.

Also read other ancient documents;
Whether at Naishápúr or Babylon,
Whether the Cup with sweet or bitter run,
The Wine of Life keeps oozing drop by drop,
The Leaves of Life keep falling one by one.
A Book of Verses underneath the Bough,
A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread---and Thou
Beside me singing in the Wilderness--
Oh, Wilderness were Paradise enow!
Some for the Glories of This World; and some
Sigh for the Prophet's Paradise to come;
Ah, take the Cash, and let the Credit go,
Nor heed the rumble of a distant Drum!
The Worldly Hope men set their Hearts upon
Turns Ashes--or it prospers; and anon,
Like Snow upon the Desert's dusty Face
Lighting a little Hour or two---is gone.
Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend,
Before we too into the Dust descend;
Dust into Dust, and under Dust, to lie,
Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer, and--sans End!
Alike for those who for TO-DAY prepare,
And those that after some TO-MORROW stare,
A Muezzin from the Tower of Darkness cries,"
Fools! your Reward is neither Here nor There!"
Oh, come with old Khayyám, and leave the Wise
To talk; one thing is certain, that Life flies;
One thing is certain, and the Rest is Lies ;
The Flower that once has blown for ever dies.
Myself when young did eagerly frequent
Doctor and Saint, and heard great Argument
About it and about: but evermore
Came out by the same Door where in I went.
Into this Universe, and why not knowing,
Nor whence, like Water willy-nilly flowing:
And out of it, as Wind along the Waste,
I know not whither, willy-nilly blowing.
There was the Door to which I found no Key:
There was the Veil through which I might not see:
Some little talk awhile of ME and THEE
There was--and then no more of THEE and ME.
Then to this earthen Bowl did I adjourn
My Lip the secret Well of Life to learn:
And Lip to Lip it murmur'd--"While you live
"Drink!--for once dead you never shall return
Ah, fill the Cup :--what boots it to repeat
How Time is slipping underneath our Feet:
Unborn TO-MORROW, and dead YESTERDAY,
Why fret about them if TO-DAY be sweet!
Myself when young did eagerly frequent
Doctor and Saint, and heard great Argument
About it and about: but evermore
Came out by the same Door where in I went.
Oh threats of Hell and Hopes of Paradise!
One thing at least is certain--This Life flies:
One thing is certain and the rest is lies;
The Flower that once is blown for ever dies.
Strange, is it not? that of the myriads who
Before us pass'd the door of Darkness through
Not one returns to tell us of the Road,
Which to discover we must travel too.
Heav'n but the Vision of fulfill'd Desire,
And Hell the Shadow of a Soul on fire,
Cast on the Darkness into which Ourselves,
So late emerg'd from, shall so soon expire.
The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.
And that inverted Bowl we call The Sky,
Whereunder crawling coop'd we live and die,
Lift not your hands to It for help--for It
As impotently moves as you or I.
Yesterday This Day's Madness did prepare;
To-morrow's Silence, Triumph, or Despair:
Drink! for you know not whence you came, nor why:
Drink! for you know not why you go, nor where.
After a momentary silence spake
Some Vessel of a more ungainly Make;
"They sneer at me for leaning all awry:
"What! did the Hand then of the Potter shake?"
Whereat some one of the loquacious Lot--
I think a Súfi pipkin--waxing hot--
"All this of Pot and Potter--Tell me, then,
"Who is the Potter, pray, and who the Pot?"
Ah Love! could thou and I with Him conspire
To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire,
Would not we shatter it to bits--and then
Re-mould it nearer to the Heart's Desire!
.

 

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