Category: Poetry

  With Apologies to Rudyard

It was part of their blood
Though dormant as of late
When the elites set loose a flood
And the Americans remembered their hate

They were not easily moved
Though prodded by the deep state
Harangued and often reproved
When the Americans re-discovered their hate

They had been willing to suffer some blows

Even marking it up to the fates
But as everyone everywhere knows
Americans historically hate

It was there in the crowd

In DC, on that fateful January date
When more men finally spoke it aloud
That it was time for Americans to hate

It has been a long growing dread

That has finally moved past debate
Acrimony has long now been bred
And the FEDS have long earned this fate
Of the Americans now moving to hate

Infant Baptism Hymn

To the Tune of ” Beneath the Cross”

Beneath the blood stained lintel I with my children stand
A messenger of evil is passing through the land
There is no other refuge from the destroyer’s face
Beneath the blood stained lintel shall be our hiding place.

The Lamb of God has suffered our sins and griefs He bore
By faith the blood is sprinkled above our dwelling’s door
The foe who seeks to enter doth fear that sacred sign
Tonight the blood stained lintel shall shelter me and mine.

My Savior, for my dear ones, I claim thy promise true.
The lamb was for the household the children’s savior too.
On earth the little children Once felt they touch divine.
Beneath the blood stained lintel thy blessing give to thine

O Thou who gave them, guard them, Those wayward little feet:
The wilderness before them, the ill of life to meet.
My parent love is helpless, I trust them to thy care.
Beneath the blood stained lintel, O keep them ever there.

The trust I place upon Thee, Thou wilt not disappoint.
With wisdom, Lord to train them. My shrinking heart anoint.
Without my children, Father, I cannot bear thy face,
I plead the blood stained lintel, Thy covenant of grace.

O Wonderful Redeemer, who suffered for my sake,
When o’er the guilty nations, they judgment storm shall break,
With joy from that safe shelter, May we then see Thine eye,
Beneath the blood stained lintel, My children, Lord, and I.

Lord, keep me from that error, that holds my child outside
And steals from them your promise, that for them you have died
We bless thee Holy Father, Our children you have claimed
Beneath that blood stained lintel, and wearing now your name

The generations gather, in one unfallen line
To jointly lift our voices, to praise your name sublime
You’ve gathered sainted Fathers, You’ve given us our seed
Beneath that blood stained lintel, we have all that we need

Vs. 1-6 — H. A. Ironside
Vs. 7-8 — B. L. McAtee

With Apologies to Henry Lyte … A Christian Patient’s Prayer

Abide with me; fast falls the eventide;
The darkness deepens; Lord, with me abide;
When other helpers fail and comforts flee,

Help of the helpless, oh, abide with me.

When danger comes; be thou my sole defense
Guard me as weak, Lord, be my recompense
When frailty visits, and my body tires

God of the ages to you I aspire

I need thy presence when on life support
I need thy Spirit to be my consort
Who, but Thyself, my breath and stay can be?

Through blood and scalpel, Lord, abide with me

I fear no foe, with Thee at hand to bless
But death still leers, and mocks as I confess
When night grows dark, and I find I want to flee

God of the Ages Oh abide with me

Hear Thou my prayer before my eyes do close
Restore my life to wage war against thy foes
Let Heav’n’s morning wait years yet for me
In life or death Oh Lord abide with me.

A Slight Revising of Vs. 3 of “O Holy Night”

The 3rd verse in “O Holy Night” sucks. The whole thing was written as a poem first by someone who eventually became socialist (Frenchman Placide Cappeau) and was then translated from the French and promoted here in the states initially by a Unitarian/Transcendentalist Yankee Minister (John Sullivan Dwight). Dwight’s socialist credentials were seen in his close work with the Brook Farm Commune before it folded in 1847.

The French Catholic Church, once learning the egalitarian roots of the song quit singing the song in their churches. However, Dwight believed the song fit his times with the issue of slavery having gained the ascendency among the Jacobins in Northern churches. Dwight translated the song from the French in 1855 when Yankee sentiments against the South was moving towards a crescendo.

The egalitarian lines that are offensive to the ears of Biblical Christians are found in the 3rd verse;

“Truly He taught us to love one another;
His law is love and His Gospel is Peace
Chains shall He break, for the slave is our brother
And in His name, all oppression shall cease”

You can just hear Yankee Churches in the Transcendentalist North belting out this song during each Christmas season of the war, being warmed in their smug self-righteousness that they were doing a good thing by supporting the Yankee war effort to maim, rape, torture and kill the South.

This verse wraps all the devilry of the North in God approving and glorifying song. As such we hates it.

We would note that the slave can be our brother without his being oppressed by his slavery. The Scripture repeatedly teaches that slavery is Biblical. Second, though it is true that “In his name, all oppression shall cease,” it is not true that slavery is automatically oppression. There are times it might be. But it has not always been so. Certainly, slavery was not automatically oppression in the ante-bellum South as the slave exit interviews done in the 1930s unmistakably reveal.

However there is no reason to lose this song. It is not as thoroughly bad as the Battle Hymn of the Republic. It can be salvaged and remain a Church hymn. We just need to change a few words so that we can sing it once again during our current Christmas season.

Truly He taught us to love one another;
His law is love and His Gospel is Peace
Chains shall He break, for our state is Oppressor
And in His name, that oppression shall cease 

Advent Poetry

St. Nicholas; our Holy man of Advent
Patron of those afflicted with ill-temper
Anabaptist pacifism was not his bent

As expressed in his conciliar distemper

Arius denied Christ was God of God
Denied the deity of our Lord
There was no room for such a fraud

Thus Arius was floored

This kind of saintly bulldog behavior
Is no longer considered in good taste
Fisticuffs to defend our glorious savior
Is shocking to our clerical panty-waists

Yet, a time and season for all zeals
A time to strike and not to reason
When Orthodoxy with Heresy deals
Fell blows cannot be counted treason

For who can convince a rebel mind
By citing a multitude of verses?
Nicholas knew the dumb and blind
Are better won with pugilistic curses