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Tag: bible

  • Emily Dickinson’s “He preached upon ‘Breadth’ till it argued him narrow”

    Image: Emily Dickinson - Amherst College - Daguerrotype of the poet at age 17, circa 1847 - likely the only authentic, extant likeness of the poet
    Image: Emily Dickinson – Amherst College – Daguerrotype of the poet at age 17, circa 1847 – likely the only authentic, extant likeness of the poet

    Emily Dickinson’s “He preached upon ‘Breadth’ till it argued him narrow”

    Emily Dickinson’s “He preached upon ‘Breadth’ till it argued him narrow” exposes religious hypocrisy and superficial preachment. The poem highlights how boasting of virtues often exposes an absence of genuine spiritual depth.

    Introduction and Text of “He preached upon ‘Breadth’ till it argued him narrow”

    This short poem focuses sharply on religious phoniness and intellectual pride. The speaker examines a preacher whose grand proclamations create a self-defeating display. Through structured lines and clever slant rime, a clear critique emerges against those who perform righteousness rather than live it.

    In my earlier essays on Dickinsonian poems, I have discussed issues that poetic craft can unmask artificiality within institutionalized frameworks. This specific work addresses the tragic irony of a minister whose expansive rhetoric shrinks his spiritual reality, showing how pride reduces immense truth to small, rigid dogmas.

    By looking past outer performance, the piece offers a deep invitation to inner authenticity. The speaker challenges religious pretense directly, setting a stage where false holiness fails to stand under close scrutiny.

    He preached upon ‘Breadth’ till it argued him narrow

    He preached upon ‘Breadth’ till it argued him narrow –
    The Broad are too broad to define
    And of ‘Truth’ until it proclaimed him a Liar –
    The Truth never flaunted a Sign –

    Simplicity fled from his counterfeit presence
    As Gold the Pyrites would shun –
    What confusion would cover the innocent Jesus
    To meet so enabled a Man!

    Commentary on “He preached upon ‘Breadth’ till it argued him narrow”

    The speaker analyzes religious pretense, showing that excessive rhetoric inevitably collapses into spiritual limitation. This critique highlights the superiority of quiet simplicity over loud, boastful hypocrisy.

    First Stanza: “He preached upon ‘Breadth’ till it argued him narrow”

    He preached upon ‘Breadth’ till it argued him narrow –
    The Broad are too broad to define
    And of ‘Truth’ until it proclaimed him a Liar –
    The Truth never flaunted a Sign –

    The opening lines illustrate a profound theological contradiction. The speaker notes that the preacher talks excessively about tolerance and openness. Yet, this endless talking achieves the opposite effect. 

    It reveals his internal limitations.  By continuously explaining a vast concept, the minister confines it within narrow human parameters. True spiritual vastness cannot be fully captured by mere words. The speaker exposes this vanity clearly.

    The second line emphasizes that immense divine concepts remain completely beyond simple human definitions. True breadth resists rigid categorization. When the preacher attempts to define it, he merely reveals his intellectual arrogance.  The speaker then addresses the concept of ultimate truth. The minister talks so much about it that his very demeanor screams deception. His elaborate speech patterns proclaim him a liar.

    Authentic truth does not require a loud, external declaration or vanity. It exists quietly and purely on its own. The speaker shows that a proud display is always a sign of falsehood.  Engaging in contemplative musing helps readers perceive this subtle dynamic. 

    We see that the divine essence requires no advertisement. It shines naturally through a quiet, humble heart.  Paramahansa Yogananda explains that real spiritual truth must be felt within the soul rather than argued externally. His divine insights remind us that God is realized through silence.

    The perfect rime scheme enhances this message of cosmic balance. The structured lines reflect how nature rejects pretension. The speaker uses these elements to dismantle the preacher’s hollow authority completely.  The preacher’s downfall is his reliance on public recognition. 

    He mistakes loud rhetoric for genuine faith. The speaker masterfully highlights that this outward focus creates an empty, unspiritual shell. This critique stays perfectly aligned with traditional themes of spiritual integrity. True faith remains invisible to a superficial eye. The speaker urges her listeners to seek internal clarity instead.

    Second Stanza: “Simplicity fled from his counterfeit presence”

    Simplicity fled from his counterfeit presence
    As Gold the Pyrites would shun –
    What confusion would cover the innocent Jesus
    To meet so enabled a Man!

    The second stanza opens with a striking visual image of immediate rejection. Simplicity actively runs away from the preacher. The speaker calls his entire character a counterfeit presence.  Purity cannot coexist with artificiality or pride. The contrast becomes sharper with the brilliant analogy of gold and pyrites. Real gold naturally separates itself from worthless fool’s gold.

    The preacher resembles pyrites because he shines superficially but possesses no actual value. The speaker uses this comparison to show that spiritual vanity can easily deceive an uncritical observer. True spiritual life requires an unadorned, transparent nature. Through simple observation, one becomes aware that the preacher’s complicated dogmas drive away the pure essence of divine grace.

    The speaker then introduces a powerful comparison involving Jesus the Christ. The text suggests that Christ would feel utter confusion upon meeting such an unnaturally enabled and self-important individual. Jesus represents ultimate humility and simple truth. The minister represents an over-engineered, institutional structure. This sharp juxtaposition highlights the deep chasm between modern religion and true spirituality.

    Paramahansa Yogananda explains that true religious understanding mirrors the childlike simplicity of Christ. His holy teachings emphasize that intellectual pride blocks real divine communion.

    In my earlier essays on Dickinsonian poems, I have discussed the frequent contrast between pure gospel ideals and corrupt religious leadership. This poem delivers that exact message brilliantly.  The masterfully placed rime underlines the absolute certainty of this spiritual law. Falsehood can never truly blend with truth. 

    The speaker leaves readers with a lasting warning against vanity. Ultimately, the work serves as a timeless guide for genuine seekers. It encourages its listeners to look past decorated pulpits. The speaker points her audience directly toward a quiet, inner temple.

  • Emily Dickinson’s “I meant to have but modest needs”

    Image: Emily Dickinson - Amherst College - Daguerrotype of the poet at age 17, circa 1847 - likely the only authentic, extant likeness of the poet
    Image: Emily Dickinson – Amherst College – Daguerrotype of the poet at age 17, circa 1847 – likely the only authentic, extant likeness of the poet

    Emily Dickinson’s “I meant to have but modest needs”

    Emily Dickinson’s “I meant to have but modest needs” reveals the speaker’s earnest spiritual nature while dramatizing her movement from innocent confidence to wary skepticism regarding the fulfillment of prayer.

    Introduction and Text of “I meant to have but modest needs”

    Emily Dickinson’s “I meant to have but modest needs” consists of six stanzas that trace the speaker’s journey from humble expectation through prayer, apparent heavenly approval, disappointment, and finally mature reflection. The little drama demonstrates the speaker’s ability to mingle gentle humor with profound spiritual inquiry. 

    While the poem entertains with witty irony, it also examines the nature of divine grace, faith, and human expectation. In my earlier essays on Dickinsonian poems, I have discussed the speaker’s remarkable ability to transform contemplative musing into compelling poetic drama while allowing spiritual questions to remain invitingly open.

    I meant to have but modest needs

    I meant to have but modest needs –
    Such as Content – and Heaven –
    Within my income – these could lie
    And Life and I – keep even –

    But since the last – included both –
    It would suffice my Prayer
    But just for One – to stipulate –
    And Grace would grant the Pair – 

    And so – upon this wise – I prayed –
    Great Spirit – Give to me
    A Heaven not so large as Yours,
    But large enough – for me –

    A Smile suffused Jehovah’s face –
    The Cherubim – withdrew –
    Grave Saints stole out to look at me –
    And showed their dimples – too –

    I left the Place, with all my might –
    I threw my Prayer away –
    The Quiet Ages picked it up –
    And Judgment – twinkled – too –
    That one so honest – be extant –
    It take the Tale for true –
    That “Whatsoever Ye shall ask –
    Itself be given You.”

    But I, grown shrewder – scan the Skies
    With a suspicious Air –
    As Children – swindled for the first
    All Swindlers – be – infer –

    Commentary on “I meant to have but modest needs”

    Emily Dickinson’s “I meant to have but modest needs” portrays a speaker whose simple request gradually becomes an exploration of the relationship between divine promise and human understanding.

    First Stanza: “I meant to have but modest needs”

    I meant to have but modest needs –
    Such as Content – and Heaven –
    Within my income – these could lie
    And Life and I – keep even –

    The speaker begins by insisting that her desires remain quite modest. She claims that she seeks only “Content” and “Heaven.” She has no ambition for wealth, fame, or earthly distinction. Her requests appear entirely reasonable because they concern the peace and happiness of the inner life.

    She then introduces a clever commercial metaphor. The expression “Within my income” likens spiritual blessings to purchases that can be made only if one possesses sufficient means. The speaker imagines that contentment and Heaven should lie comfortably within her spiritual resources.

    The phrase “Life and I – keep even” suggests that the speaker expects a balanced relationship between herself and life. She hopes that life will deal fairly with her and that her modest expectations will be met with corresponding generosity.

    Yet the speaker seems to underestimate the magnitude of her request. Although she believes that contentment and Heaven constitute “modest needs,” each remains beyond the reach of material existence. Lasting contentment cannot be secured through worldly conditions, and Heaven belongs entirely to the realm of Spirit.

    The speaker therefore begins with an assumption that appears simple but proves profound. She regards her request as modest because she values spiritual realities above worldly possessions. Ironically, those spiritual realities become the greatest treasures any soul can desire.

    Paramahansa Yogananda explains that lasting happiness comes from the soul’s communion with the Divine rather than from external circumstances. Dickinson’s speaker has not yet fully realized that truth, but her instinct already directs her toward those eternal blessings that alone can satisfy the human heart.

    Second Stanza: “But since the last – included both”

    But since the last – included both –
    It would suffice my Prayer
    But just for One – to stipulate –
    And Grace would grant the Pair –

    The speaker now refines her thinking. She realizes that if she receives Heaven, she will necessarily receive contentment also. Heaven must include every blessing that the soul genuinely requires. Therefore, instead of asking for two gifts, she need ask for only one.

    Her reasoning remains beautifully logical. If Heaven already contains perfect peace, requesting contentment separately becomes unnecessary. The speaker concludes that Grace will naturally provide both blessings while granting only one petition.

    The speaker also demonstrates complete confidence in divine goodness. She assumes that Grace delights in giving rather than withholding. Nothing in her thinking suggests doubt that the Divine responds lovingly to sincere prayer.

    The simplicity of her reasoning reveals an innocence that has not yet encountered disappointment. She believes that divine promises operate exactly as they appear. Her faith remains uncomplicated by painful experience or lingering uncertainty.

    The stanza quietly prepares readers for the irony that follows. The speaker’s confidence is sincere, but sincere confidence alone cannot answer every spiritual question. The remaining stanzas will test her assumptions while enlarging her understanding.

    Paramahansa Yogananda explains that divine wisdom grants what serves the soul’s highest good, even when human beings do not immediately recognize that good. The speaker stands upon the threshold of discovering that the fulfillment of prayer often transcends the expectations of the one who offers it.

    Third Stanza: “And so – upon this wise – I prayed”

    And so – upon this wise – I prayed –
    Great Spirit – Give to me
    A Heaven not so large as Yours,
    But large enough – for me –

    Having reasoned that Heaven embraces every worthy blessing, the speaker proceeds naturally to prayer. Her petition remains strikingly modest. She does not presume to request equality with the Divine but only asks for a portion suited to her own spiritual capacity.

    The expression “Great Spirit” broadens the speaker’s address beyond denominational boundaries while preserving profound reverence. She approaches the Creator with sincerity instead of elaborate ceremony. Her directness reflects confidence that genuine prayer requires honesty more than ornament.

    The request for “A Heaven not so large as Yours” reveals remarkable humility. The speaker acknowledges the immeasurable grandeur of the Divine while recognizing her own finite condition. She seeks neither dominion nor glory, only sufficient spiritual fulfillment to satisfy the soul’s deepest longing.

    Yet the simplicity of the request conceals extraordinary depth. Any authentic Heaven, regardless of size, must partake of eternity. Thus the speaker appears to be asking for that which transcends all earthly limitation. Her modest language veils an infinite aspiration.

    Paramahansa Yogananda explains that every soul longs to recover its unity with the Infinite because that unity constitutes its true nature. The speaker’s prayer quietly reflects that eternal longing. Although expressed with charming restraint, her petition reaches beyond temporal existence toward lasting spiritual realization.

    In my earlier essays on Dickinsonian poems, I have discussed the speaker’s tendency to disguise profound metaphysical inquiry beneath conversational language. That technique appears beautifully here. The speaker seems merely to request a comfortable dwelling, while she actually voices the universal desire for permanent union with divine peace.

    Fourth Stanza: “A Smile suffused Jehovah’s face”

    A Smile suffused Jehovah’s face –
    The Cherubim – withdrew –
    Grave Saints stole out to look at me –
    And showed their dimples – too –

    The heavenly response arrives with delightful humor. Rather than thunder, judgment, or solemn pronouncement, the speaker beholds a smile upon Jehovah’s face. The atmosphere immediately becomes one of affection instead of fearful distance.

    Even the Cherubim and Saints participate in the gentle amusement. Their dignified reserve yields to warm delight as they quietly observe the speaker’s earnest request. Dickinson’s customary wit transforms Heaven into a realm where joy naturally accompanies holiness.

    The smiling saints emphasize that genuine sanctity excludes neither kindness nor humor. Their dimples humanize these exalted figures while suggesting that divine wisdom delights in innocent sincerity. The speaker’s prayer has produced no offense. Instead, it awakens heavenly sympathy.

    The speaker herself, however, cannot yet interpret the meaning of those smiles. Are they signs of approval, affectionate indulgence, or recognition that she has asked for more than she realizes? Dickinson wisely leaves that question unresolved, permitting readers their own contemplative musing.

    Paramahansa Yogananda frequently portrays the Divine as infinitely compassionate rather than remote or forbidding. Such a conception harmonizes with the smiling Jehovah. Divine love welcomes the sincere seeker even when that seeker’s understanding remains incomplete.

    In my earlier essays on Dickinsonian poems, I have discussed the speaker’s remarkable ability to blend reverence with playful imagination. Here, celestial beings remain majestic without sacrificing warmth. The result is a memorable portrait of Heaven as both exalted and intimately accessible.

    Fifth Stanza: “I left the Place, with all my might”

    I left the Place, with all my might –
    I threw my Prayer away –
    The Quiet Ages picked it up –
    And Judgment – twinkled – too –
    That one so honest – be extant –
    It take the Tale for true –
    That “Whatsoever Ye shall ask –
    Itself be given You.”

    The tone shifts dramatically. The speaker departs in haste, casting aside the very prayer she had offered with such confidence. Something has occurred that leaves her unable to retain her former certainty. Innocence begins yielding to painful experience.

    Yet the prayer itself refuses extinction. The “Quiet Ages” preserve it, suggesting that sincere aspiration possesses enduring value regardless of immediate disappointment. Honest petitions continue to live within eternity even when human expectations falter.

    The reference to Judgment “twinkled” tempers solemnity with irony. Dickinson’s speaker avoids portraying divine judgment as harsh condemnation. Instead, it sparkles with knowing wisdom, implying that eternal justice perceives realities hidden from limited human understanding.

    The concluding biblical allusion introduces the central tension. The promise that whatsoever one asks shall be given appears difficult to reconcile with lived experience.  The speaker has encountered the mystery separating literal expectation from spiritual fulfillment.

    Paramahansa Yogananda explains that divine response always serves the soul’s highest welfare, even when outward circumstances appear contrary to immediate desire. Such teaching illuminates the speaker’s perplexity. The Divine may answer every sincere prayer, but not always according to human anticipation.

    In my earlier essays on Dickinsonian poems, I have discussed the speaker’s refusal to abandon spiritual inquiry simply because certainty proves elusive. She preserves intellectual honesty while continuing her contemplative musing. That balance between faith and questioning contributes greatly to the enduring power of Dickinson’s poetry.

    Sixth Stanza: “But I, grown shrewder – scan the Skies”

    But I, grown shrewder – scan the Skies
    With a suspicious Air –
    As Children – swindled for the first
    All Swindlers – be – infer –

    The final stanza presents a speaker transformed by experience. She now examines the heavens with suspicion rather than unquestioning confidence. The change is neither cynical nor irreverent. Instead, it reflects the caution that often accompanies spiritual maturity.

    The comparison with children deceived for the first time offers poignant psychological insight. Young minds frequently generalize from one painful disappointment, imagining universal deception where only partial misunderstanding exists. The speaker recognizes that tendency within herself.

    Her admission reveals admirable candor. Rather than disguising uncertainty beneath conventional piety, she acknowledges the struggle to reconcile faith with experience. Such honesty strengthens rather than diminishes the poem’s spiritual authority because it arises from authentic inward observation.

    The speaker does not reject Heaven, prayer, or the Divine. She merely confesses that unquestioning innocence has yielded to reflective discernment. Her faith seeks deeper understanding rather than easy reassurance.

    Paramahansa Yogananda explains that spiritual realization grows through direct experience instead of blind acceptance. The speaker stands precisely at that threshold. Her questions become the means through which superficial belief may mature into genuine wisdom.

    In my earlier essays on Dickinsonian poems, I have discussed the speaker’s extraordinary courage in allowing unresolved tensions to remain visible. She seldom offers simplistic conclusions because authentic contemplative musing rarely ends with effortless certainty. Instead, she leaves readers contemplating the mysterious relationship between divine promise, human expectation, and the soul’s continuing search for eternal truth.

  • Sundry Commands

    201a Image-Created by Grok inspired by the poem.jpg
    Image: Created by Grok inspired by the poem

    Sundry Commands

    Bring your toys, play with boats and rings,
    Bright strings of angels float about cool things.
    Wake up the sloth in your bonnet; red ribbons
    Tied to the anchor of drowning load the harbor.
    Quiet the noise in your brain, solace your neighbor.

    String your tunes onto the backs of commands.
    You have known steady loons to break in memory.
    Wake up in a drawing room filled with letters.
    Take responsibility for your own doings.
    Make apples turn brown in crusty weather.

    Do all in gentle rain that keeps the flow.
    Make haste to relinquish the death handle.
    Your parents had steel spines and fevered brains
    Yet their hearts kept time with the astral drum.
    Squelch the noise in your ear and fly over scum.

    Sing songs that spill rivers in the minds of harps.
    Don’t break the momentum of falling leaves.
    The floor of each heart is scattered with regrets.
    Go dumb in the face of disingenuity.
    Bring a noisy lantern that scrubs flaccid wine.

    Sing more songs, compose poetry for the ages.
    Copy the style but not the brunt of sages.
    Each balloon that pops drops a bird.
    Make each crisis sing with loud abandon
    That the noise in your brain flee to the outskirts.

  • God Was the Idol

    Image-Created by Grok/ChatGPT/Gemini inspired by the poem
    Image: Created by Grok/ChatGPT/Gemini inspired by the poem

    God Was the Idol

    There was no Virgin Mother in the place
    Where I grew up
    In the country side

    There was no manger in the barn
    Where I grew up
    In the country side

    No wise men came to visit in the house
    Where I grew up
    In the country side

    There was no harlot in the town
    Where I grew up
    In the country side

    There was no Judas in the tree
    Where I grew up
    In the country side

    There was no cross on the hill
    Where I grew up
    In the country side

    There was no Bible in the church
    Where I grew up
    In the country side

    God was the Idol in the land
    Where I grew up
    In the country side

  • James Weldon Johnson’s “The Creation”

    Image: James Weldon Johnson - https://www.green-wood.com/event/the-autobiography-of-an-ex-colored-man-110-years-later/
    Image: James Weldon Johnson

    James Weldon Johnson’s “The Creation”

    James Weldon Johnson’s “The Creation” remains a marvelous example of the poet’s depth of spirituality as well as his skilled craftsmanship at creating speakers who perform in his poetry compositions.

    Introduction with Text of “The Creation”

    In James Weldon Johnson’s “The Creation,” the speaker dramatizes Genesis chapter 1, verses 1-25.   The speaker employs the voice of a Southern preacher, exemplified by the lines, “Down in a cypress swamp” and “Like a mammy bending over her baby.”  

    The Wintley Phipps recitation of James Weldon Johnson’s “The Creation” is magnificent.  Phipps performs a perfect interpretation of Johnson’s poem.  The experience of listening to a fine poem always adds a nuance of meaning that a simple quiet reading lacks.

    The Creation

    And God stepped out on space,
    And he looked around and said:
    I’m lonely—
    I’ll make me a world.

     And far as the eye of God could see
    Darkness covered everything,
    Blacker than a hundred midnights
    Down in a cypress swamp.

    Then God smiled,
    And the light broke,
    And the darkness rolled up on one side,
    And the light stood shining on the other,
    And God said: That’s good!

    Then God reached out and took the light in his hands,
    And God rolled the light around in his hands
    Until he made the sun;
    And he set that sun a-blazing in the heavens.
    And the light that was left from making the sun
    God gathered it up in a shining ball
    And flung it against the darkness,
    Spangling the night with the moon and stars.
    Then down between
    The darkness and the light
    He hurled the world;
    And God said: That’s good!

    Then God himself stepped down—
    And the sun was on his right hand,
    And the moon was on his left;
    The stars were clustered about his head,
    And the earth was under his feet.
    And God walked, and where he trod
    His footsteps hollowed the valleys out
    And bulged the mountains up.

    Then he stopped and looked and saw
    That the earth was hot and barren.
    So God stepped over to the edge of the world
    And he spat out the seven seas—
    He batted his eyes, and the lightnings flashed—
    He clapped his hands, and the thunders rolled—
    And the waters above the earth came down,
    The cooling waters came down.

    Then the green grass sprouted,
    And the little red flowers blossomed,
    The pine tree pointed his finger to the sky,
    And the oak spread out his arms,
    The lakes cuddled down in the hollows of the ground,
    And the rivers ran down to the sea;
    And God smiled again,
    And the rainbow appeared,
    And curled itself around his shoulder.

    Then God raised his arm and he waved his hand
    Over the sea and over the land,
    And he said: Bring forth! Bring forth!
    And quicker than God could drop his hand,
    Fishes and fowls
    And beasts and birds
    Swam the rivers and the seas,
    Roamed the forests and the woods,
    And split the air with their wings.
    And God said: That’s good!

    Then God walked around,
    And God looked around
    On all that he had made.
    He looked at his sun,
    And he looked at his moon,
    And he looked at his little stars;
    He looked on his world
    With all its living things,
    And God said: I’m lonely still.

    Then God sat down—
    On the side of a hill where he could think;
    By a deep, wide river he sat down;
    With his head in his hands,
    God thought and thought,
    Till he thought: I’ll make me a man!

    Up from the bed of the river
    God scooped the clay;
    And by the bank of the river
    He kneeled him down;
    And there the great God Almighty
    Who lit the sun and fixed it in the sky,
    Who flung the stars to the most far corner of the night,
    Who rounded the earth in the middle of his hand;
    This great God,
    Like a mammy bending over her baby,
    Kneeled down in the dust
    Toiling over a lump of clay
    Till he shaped it in is his own image;

    Then into it he blew the breath of life,
    And man became a living soul.
    Amen.      Amen.

    Wintley Phipps’ recitation of “The Creation” 

    Commentary on “The Creation”

    Johnson’s speaker offers an imaginative, dramatic rendering of the origin of creation, based on the creation story in Genesis from the King James Version of the Holy Bible.

    First and Second Stanzas:  Personification of God

    And God stepped out on space,
    And he looked around and said:
    I’m lonely—
    I’ll make me a world.

     And far as the eye of God could see
    Darkness covered everything,
    Blacker than a hundred midnights
    Down in a cypress swamp.

    The speaker personifies God, giving the Deity the very human quality of loneliness and having Him “step [ ] out on space,” where He observes the vastness and decides, “I’m lonely / I’ll make me a world.” 

    The corresponding Genesis verse states,”In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth.” Johnson’s speaker gives God anthropomorphic qualities in order metaphorically explain the process of creation as revealed in the Holy Scripture.

    In Genesis, the darkness was on the face of the deep, because the world was formless. Johnson’s speaker dramatically describes pre-creation as “blacker than a hundred midnights / Down in a cypress swamp.” Of course, the speaker knows that his audience, likely his congregation, would be able to visualize that cypress swamp darkness.

    Third and Fourth Stanzas:   Calling for Light

    Then God smiled,
    And the light broke,
    And the darkness rolled up on one side,
    And the light stood shining on the other,
    And God said: That’s good!

    Then God reached out and took the light in his hands,
    And God rolled the light around in his hands
    Until he made the sun;
    And he set that sun a-blazing in the heavens.
    And the light that was left from making the sun
    God gathered it up in a shining ball
    And flung it against the darkness,
    Spangling the night with the moon and stars.
    Then down between
    The darkness and the light
    He hurled the world;
    And God said: That’s good!

    Genesis reveals that God called for light by heralding, “Let there be light.” Johnson’s speaker creatively allows that first light to beam when God smiled. In addition, the speaker metaphorically has the light causing the darkness to “roll [ ] up on one side” while “light stood shining on the other.” 

    To all this drama, God says, “That’s good!” Johnson’s speaker makes God an even more active entity than the Genesis version, where instead of speaking, God’s thoughts are exposed: “God saw the light, and it was good.” At this point, only God could have had that thought.

    The speaker then takes the liberty of having God create the sun by taking light in his hands and rolling the light into a ball and setting the sun “a-blazing in the heavens.” Using the light remaining after making the sun, God gathered it up in “a shining ball / And flung it against the darkness / Spangling the night with the moon and stars.” 

    The importance of light motivates Johnson’s speaker to elaborate on the creation of the earth’s only source of light. And again, as is repeated in Genesis, the speaker has God aver, “That’s good!”

    Fifth and Sixth Stanzas:  The Significance of the Sun

    Then God himself stepped down—
    And the sun was on his right hand,
    And the moon was on his left;
    The stars were clustered about his head,
    And the earth was under his feet.
    And God walked, and where he trod
    His footsteps hollowed the valleys out
    And bulged the mountains up.

    Then he stopped and looked and saw
    That the earth was hot and barren.
    So God stepped over to the edge of the world
    And he spat out the seven seas—
    He batted his eyes, and the lightnings flashed—
    He clapped his hands, and the thunders rolled—
    And the waters above the earth came down,
    The cooling waters came down.

    The importance of the sun is further emphasized as the speaker continues his drama. God begins to walk on the earth with the sun “on his right hand / And the moon on his left.”  And the stars were “clustered about his head.”  

    As God walked on the earth, His feet “hollowed the valleys out / And bulged the mountains up.” Genesis more vaguely reveals God’s creation process than this speaker, who imaginatively fills in the gaps as he creates his own creation myth.

    In Genesis, God separates the heavens from the earth. This speaker has God spitting out the seven seas and after clapping His hands, the thunder begins and rain comes down, “cooling waters came down.”

    Seventh and Eighth Stanzas:  Nature Comes into Being

    Then the green grass sprouted,
    And the little red flowers blossomed,
    The pine tree pointed his finger to the sky,
    And the oak spread out his arms,
    The lakes cuddled down in the hollows of the ground,
    And the rivers ran down to the sea;
    And God smiled again,
    And the rainbow appeared,
    And curled itself around his shoulder.

    Then God raised his arm and he waved his hand
    Over the sea and over the land,
    And he said: Bring forth! Bring forth!
    And quicker than God could drop his hand,
    Fishes and fowls
    And beasts and birds
    Swam the rivers and the seas,
    Roamed the forests and the woods,
    And split the air with their wings.
    And God said: That’s good!

    After the rain, grasses appear, and “little red flowers blossomed” and “A pine tree “pointed his finger to the sky.” This speaker gives specific details again not found in Genesis. He has the oak “spread out his arms.”

    He has lakes appearing as they “cuddled down in the hollows of the ground.” He has rivers running to the ocean, and God smiling as “a rainbow appeared / And curled itself around his shoulder.”

    In his eighth stanza, the speaker has God creating “Fishes and fowls / And beasts and birds.” God creates by raising His arm and waving His hand and commanding, “Bring forth! Bring forth!” Again, God evaluates His creation, declaring, “That’s good!”

    Ninth and Tenth Stanzas:  A Lonely God

    Then God walked around,
    And God looked around
    On all that he had made.
    He looked at his sun,
    And he looked at his moon,
    And he looked at his little stars;
    He looked on his world
    With all its living things,
    And God said: I’m lonely still.

    Then God sat down—
    On the side of a hill where he could think;
    By a deep, wide river he sat down;
    With his head in his hands,
    God thought and thought,
    Till he thought: I’ll make me a man!

    The speaker says that God walked about and observed all that He had created. Nevertheless, just as before He created all these things, God again found Himself lonely. Of course, Genesis does not anthropomorphize God; thus, there are no claims in Scripture that God was ever lonely.

    In trying to understand the mind of God, the human mind assigns human qualities to the Deity. As long as one realizes the limitation of such assignment, no problem occurs and much understanding can be gained through metaphor and personification.

    God then sits down to think about how to assuage His loneliness. Just as a man would do, He sits by a river with His head in His hands, thinking and thinking, and He finally gets the thought to make a man. 

    Eleventh and Twelfth Stanzas:  Bodies of Clay

    Up from the bed of the river
    God scooped the clay;
    And by the bank of the river
    He kneeled him down;
    And there the great God Almighty
    Who lit the sun and fixed it in the sky,
    Who flung the stars to the most far corner of the night,
    Who rounded the earth in the middle of his hand;
    This great God,
    Like a mammy bending over her baby,
    Kneeled down in the dust
    Toiling over a lump of clay
    Till he shaped it in is his own image;

    Then into it he blew the breath of life,
    And man became a living soul.
    Amen.      Amen.

    The speaker now has God create the first human being by “scoop[ing] the clay from the riverbed.” He employs the image of a mammy bending over her baby while she kneeled down in the dust working over a lump of clay. God shaped this lump of clay in his own image, as Genesis says, “Let us make man in our image, after our likeness.”

    Finally, God blew the breath of life into the body of the clay God-like image, and “man became a living soul.” At this point, the speaker/preacher concludes his drama/sermon with the traditional, “Amen. Amen.”

  • James Weldon Johnson’s “Mother Night”

    Image: James Weldon Johnson - Portrait by Laura Wheeler Waring https://npg.si.edu/object/npg_NPG.67.40
    Image: James Weldon Johnson – Portrait by Laura Wheeler Waring

    James Weldon Johnson’s “Mother Night”

    The speaker in Johnson’s sonnet, “Mother Night,” likens his own existence and protection to that of the planets—all are created and protected by the same Divine Entity.  Thus his soul remains a spark from the Original Divine Flame.

    Introduction with Text of “Mother Night”

    James Weldon Johnson’s “Mother Night,” a Petrarchan (or Italian) sonnet, metaphorically dramatizes night as the calm union of the soul with the Oversoul or the individual self with Divine Self.

    The speaker, influenced by Eastern as well as Christian philosophical tenets, draws a parallel between the conflict of day and night in the cosmos and his own struggle with the pairs of opposites in his earthly sojourn.   This sonnet’s form offers polished Petrarchan rime-scheme:  ABBAABBA in the octave, and CDECDE in the sestet.

    Mother Night

    Eternities before the first-born day,
    Or ere the first sun fledged his wings of flame,
    Calm Night, the everlasting and the same,
    A brooding mother over chaos lay.
    And whirling suns shall blaze and then decay,
    Shall run their fiery courses and then claim
    The haven of the darkness whence they came;
    Back to Nirvanic peace shall grope their way. 

    So when my feeble sun of life burns out,
    And sounded is the hour for my long sleep,
    I shall, full weary of the feverish light,
    Welcome the darkness without fear or doubt,
    And heavy-lidded, I shall softly creep
    Into the quiet bosom of the Night.

    Commentary on “Mother Night”

    All creation is protected by its Creator, Who performs in various guises somewhat like a mother bird, who protects her progeny.  Nighttime is the time for rest, peaceful contemplation, and retreat from the hustle and bustle of day time activities.

    Thus, nighttime may be perceived as a protecting entity that offers solace and comfort to those in need and those who wish for such qualities in their lives.

    First Quatrain:  Existence Was Brooding before the First Created Day

    Eternities before the first-born day,
    Or ere the first sun fledged his wings of flame,
    Calm Night, the everlasting and the same,
    A brooding mother over chaos lay.

    Like a brooding mother, that is, a mother bird who is sitting on her brood of eggs and then who continues to protect and keep them warm as baby birds, “Calm Night” kept watch over the unmanifested entity until the first-born day, before the first planets were created and hurled into activity: “ere the first sun fledged his wings of flame.” 

    The mature planet of the sun is like a bird that is now flying off on its own, after having been tenderly nurtured by its mother.

    Mother Night tenderly nurtured the growing cosmos that ultimately resulted in planets and people. Johnson’s metaphoric Night represents the non-vibratory realm of reality where nothing is manifested, and only the mind of God exists in that vibrationless realm.

    There is no creation only a peaceful possibility, a potential. Until God chooses to create beings to populate His cosmos, He simply broods like a mother over chaos. 

    Here the term chaos does not refer to our modern usage of confusion and disorder but to infinite formlessness. The term originates from the Greek Khaos, indicating a dark void from which the gods originated.

    Second Quatrain:  The Projection of Light as It Creates the Cosmos

    And whirling suns shall blaze and then decay,
    Shall run their fiery courses and then claim
    The haven of the darkness whence they came;
    Back to Nirvanic peace shall grope their way. 

    The second quatrain describes the plight of whirling suns as they “blaze and then decay.” Those planets of fire will eventually burn out and after they do, they will return “[b]ack to Nirvanic peace.” 

    The speaker employs the term Nirvanic, adjectival form for “Nirvana,” the Buddhist term for God-union, which is “Samadhi” in  Hinduism, “Salvation” in Christianity, and “Fana” in Sufism, the mystical branch of Islam.

    The speaker cleverly plays by punning “whirling suns,” whereas sun puns son. With God as Mother Night, Her suns (sons) will “run their fiery courses” (live their passionate lives) and then recede back into the arms of the brooding mother or God. 

    First Tercet:  The Individual Self as It Careens Toward Oblivion

    So when my feeble sun of life burns out,
    And sounded is the hour for my long sleep,
    I shall, full weary of the feverish light,

    The sestet then shifts from the cosmos to the speaker himself, a son of the night mother. The speaker vows that he will react to his death a certain way, but he does not clarify that way yet, but merely sets up the conditions for his final claim. 

    As his life comes to an end, as he knows that it “is the hour for [his] long sleep,” he will be fully aware that his life is ebbing.

    Second Tercet:  Faith That Leads the Faithful toward Their True Home

    Welcome the darkness without fear or doubt,
    And heavy-lidded, I shall softly creep
    Into the quiet bosom of the Night.

    And the speaker will “[w]elcome the darkness without fear or doubt.” His strong faith and intuition allow him to realize that his soul is going home. 

    This speaker has mused long and hard upon the profundities that puzzle every thinking brain.  He has contemplated what science has discovered about the nature of the created Cosmos.

    The speaker has likewise compared the knowledge  of scientists to that of the tenets of religion and philosophy.  And the result of his in depth study now allows him to formulate a pathway to Divine Reality.  

    This prescient speaker has come to understand that his own soul is simply a spark of the Divine Flame, Who has fashioned out of chaos a marvelous entity of joy, peace, hope, and love.

    This speaker’s eyelids may droop, but his soul is ever ensconced in the omnipresent protection of the beautiful mother, the Mother Night—who parallels the Blessèd Divine Reality—who will throughout eternity continue to brood over and fiercely guide and guard her beloved son.  

  • Emily Dickinson’s “By such and such an offering”

    Image: Emily Dickinson - Amherst College - Daguerrotype of the poet at age 17, circa 1847 - likely the only authentic, extant likeness of the poet
    Image: Emily Dickinson – Amherst College – Daguerrotype of the poet at age 17, circa 1847 – likely the only authentic, extant likeness of the poet https://www.amherst.edu/library/archives/holdings/edickinson

    Emily Dickinson’s “By such and such an offering”

    The speaker in Emily Dickinson’s “By such and such an offering” is exploring the nature of duplicity by those who feign elevated status through appropriating experience that they have not in fact endured.

    Introduction and Text of “By such and such an offering”

    The speaker in Emily Dickinson’s four-line verse begins mysteriously but then suggests a remarkable indictment of those who feign martyrdom.  Those who exaggerate their suffering in life but have little to show for it are often those who put on display their complaints.  

    The phony religious who amble about with colorless, sad expressions, those who suffer from physical ailments but exaggerate for attention, those who remain boastful of their contributions to society that anyone paying attention will realize are meagre—these supposed “martyrs” remain so only to their own confused thinking.

    The speaker is calling attention to such bombastic displays.  As the “web of life” is woven, it does remain salient that it “takes all kinds.”  This speaker offers no remedy—just an insightful observation that such ilk exists, and perhaps a warning to watch out for them and not be fooled by insincerity and lack of clarity.

    By such and such an offering

    By such and such an offering
    To Mr. So and So,
    The web of life woven –
    So martyrs albums show!

    Commentary on “By such and such an offering”

    The speaker is offering an observation of a certain segment of the social order whose exaggerated rhetoric attempts to hoist their pettiness to the exalted status of martyrdom.

    First Movement:  The Undeclared

    By such and such an offering
    To Mr. So and So,

    The speaker begins with two prepositional phrases that point to some activity being directed to an unknown entity: specifically something is being given to someone.  The phrases “such and such” and “So and So” indicate that the speaker is not identifying the gift nor is she naming to whom the gift is given.  

    The speaker does, however, qualify the receiver of the gift as a masculine human being, signaled by “Mr.”; thus, the terms of the phrase “So and So” stand for a name and are capitalized.

    The speaker has thus set up a puzzling dynamic by essentially reporting somewhat mysteriously that something was given, or perhaps will be given, to someone (some man).  She allows her audience to remain puzzled by not only what the gift may be, or will be, but also by who will be, or has been, the receiver of that gift.

    At this point, the speaker has simply claimed that what was given was an “offering.”  She does not say that what was given was a “present” or a “gift”; instead she uses the more weighty term “offering,” which differs from other items given through its special status: an offering connotes something given for religious or worship purposes, or some other universally relevant purpose. An ordinary gift is usually something presented to an individual or small group of individuals.

    Thus this gift retains a different status from an ordinary gift, in that it must have some purpose other than the mere giving of a gift for Christmas or birthday or other culturally personalized holiday.  Thus instead of a personal gift, this offering will retain a wider, more inclusive purpose.

    Second Movement:  Completed Mystery

    The web of life woven –
    So martyrs albums show!

    The speaker then completes the thought begun in the first movement, but she still remains quite mysterious because she does not actually offer a complete sentence or statement.  Her musing thus remains fragmented, as if she were merely jotting down a note for later employment in a larger context.

    The speaker then makes the lofty claim about life: life’s “web” has been woven.  While only life’s Creator can be credited with weaving the “web of life,” the speaker again indicates that she will remain mysterious in her remarks by not elaborating her claim but by diverting the direction of her report to individuals who have experienced extreme suffering perhaps even death (“martyrs”), who then display their suffering through a series of blank pages (“albums”) filled with images from their history.

    The speaker has thus suggested her own puzzlement that life can be filled with so many perplexing events.  But she seizes upon the one turn of events that has impressed her mightily in likely a negative or perhaps even a humorous way:  that the sufferers who offer their oblations at the feet materiality and yet portend to suffer as martyrs nevertheless gather their badges and demonstrate them to an unsuspecting world.

    The true martyr to the spiritual cause may be celebrated by others down through the centuries.  Their adherence to truth is to be emulated, but it will be hoped that their being martyred unto death may be avoided.  

    But those who put on display their suffering through flagitiousness or deleterious behavior will be adjudicated duplicitous as they “show” their “albums” instead allowing them to work through the mystery of silent, masterful ascendance.

    Thus the vaunted “offering” is revealed as a profligate collection garnered by the supposed “martyrs” and bestowed on “Mr. So and So,” who has remained merely a nebulous, unsuspecting target of the feigning, exaggerating sufferers. 

    That unknown citizen—representing the conglomerate of the world’s citizens—remains an amorphous being to whom the would-be martyrs may put on display their imperfections and bleared commodities.

  • Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s Sonnet 43 “How do I love thee? Let me count the ways”

    Image: Elizabeth Barrett Browning – Engraving from original Painting by Chappel, 1872. (Photo by: Universal History Archive/Universal Images Group via Getty Images)

    Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s Sonnet 43 “How do I love thee? Let me count the ways”

    The sonnet “How do I love thee? Let me count the ways”—number 43 in Sonnets from the Portuguese—remains the most famous and widely read sonnet of the sequence.  The speaker is offering a summary of all the ways she has come to love her soon to be husband.

    Introduction and Text of Sonnet 43 “How do I love thee? Let me count the ways”

    Sonnet 43 “How do I love thee?  Let me count the ways” is the most widely anthologized sonnet from Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s sequence titled Sonnets from the Portuguese. It is likely the many high school or college graduates remember that line but may have remained unaware that it is only #43 from its accompanying sequence of 43 other sonnets.  

    The sonnet is a Petrarchan sonnet as are all of the other sonnets in the sequence.  In the octave, the speaker is musing about how much she loves her belovèd suitor, and she asks the question, “How do I love thee?” 

    Then the speaker proceeds to answer the question, so the reader becomes aware that the speaker is not literally addressing her belovèd, but she is addressing the thought or perhaps even an image of that belovèd.  In the sestet, the speaker counts three definite ways and one possible way that she will love him throughout eternity.

    Sonnet 43 “H0w do I love thee? Let me count the ways”

    How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
    I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
    My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
    For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
    I love thee to the level of everyday’s Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
    I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
    I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
    I love thee with the passion put to use
    In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith. I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
    With my lost saints,—I love thee with the breath,
    Smiles, tears, of all my life!—and, if God choose,
    I shall but love thee better after death.

    Commentary on Sonnet 43 “How do I love thee? Let me count the ways”  

    Sonnet 43 “How do I love thee? Let me count the ways” remains the most famous and widely read sonnet of the sequence.

    First Quatrain:  An Emphatic Rhetorical Question

    How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
    I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
    My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
    For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.

    The speaker asks an obvious rhetorical question that requires only her feeling to fill out; thus she continues, “Let me count the ways.” She loves him with all her soul, as that soul strives for an idealism that has to be left up to faith.  The soul searches in all directions through “depth and breadth and height” for this idealism, which this speaker calls “the ends of Being and ideal Grace.”

    Second Quatrain:  Love and All Levels

    I love thee to the level of everyday’s Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
    I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
    I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.

    The speaker has begun with the sublime, ethereal level of her love by invoking how she loves her belovèd on the spiritual level.  The speaker then brings herself quickly back to the mundane activities of daily life by saying that another way she loves him is through even the smallest daily act whether that act is performed during the daylight hours or during the night, “by sun and candle-light.”

    The speaker then asserts that her love for her belovèd is spontaneous and “freely” given; therefore, she loves him in the way humankind loves freedom and acts correctly in striving to secure and maintain that freedom. She then claims that her love is as pure as those who are humble when praised.  In the octave, the speaker has signified four ways she loves her belovèd: spiritually, materially, “freely,” and “purely.”

    First Tercet:   All Encompassing Love

    I love thee with the passion put to use
    In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith. I love thee with a love I seemed to lose

    The speaker loves him with the same ardor that used to grip her when she faced difficulties, but this “passion” is tempered by the fact that that love is also similar to the love that childhood provided her, an opposite kind of emotion from the one that caused her “old griefs.”  This love includes the polar opposites of fear and love, with love tempering the fear in a balanced and useful way.

    The speaker also loves her belovèd life mate with a kind of respect and admiration that she thought she had outgrown; this group of people could be a fairly large one, including friends, teachers, relatives, and even religious “saints,” the term she uses.  But the key word is that she “seemed” to lose this love, but with her belovèd suitor, that love is returned to her.

    Second Tercet:   Love unto Eternity

    With my lost saints,—I love thee with the breath,
    Smiles, tears, of all my life!—and, if God choose,
    I shall but love thee better after death.

    The next way she loves her belovèd she asserts in a breathless, almost ecstatic pronouncement: “— I love thee with the breath, / Smiles, tears, of all my life! —.”  Placed between dashes, these terms then signal an emphasis of expression.

    This assertion captures the excitement and underscores the passion in the speaker’s claim, while it prepares the reader or listener, for the last breathtaking claim that, “if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.”

    So in the sestet, the speaker again professes four ways in which she loves the belovèd: with a passion of meeting former challenges but tempered by a childlike faith, with a kind of love she thought she had lost, and with her whole being.  But most importantly for this speaker, she has faith that she will love this belovèd soul mate eternally.

  • Brad McClain’s “Cowboy Christmas”

    Image: Merry Christmas  – Art by Tyler Crow, used by permission

    From an internet site dedicated to his Christian faith and affinity for cowboy culture God’s Horseback Gospel, Brad McClain’s “Cowboy Christmas” celebrates the congeniality of friends gathering to observe the Christmas season.  It offers the traditional energy and fun-loving atmosphere of most cowboy Christmas poetry.

    The two prose pieces following the poem further extend the faithful worship included in Mr. McClain’s purpose for creating his webpage—to glorify God and introduce others to a kind of spiritual awakening that they may not have known existed.

    Brad McClain’s “Cowboy Christmas”

    A countrified tradition,
    Was part of yester-year,
    When the cowboys’ main ambition,
    Was to spread some Christmas cheer.

    The ranch folk friend and families,
    Would come from far and wide,
    Trottin’ through the winter breeze,
    On Christmas Eve they’d ride.

    For food and fun and merriment,
    Twin fiddles filled the air,
    And everyone’s so glad they went,
    And goodwill everywhere.

    Kids a’chasin’ kids around,
    Oldsters smile and wave,
    All the festive sights and sounds,
    And a cowboy gettin’ brave,

    Enough to ask that gal to dance,
    And of course she says she will,
    He never thought he had a chance,
    And if a look could kill,

    Her Daddy watches carefully,
    He remembers to that age,
    Her mama takes it prayerfully,
    It helps her fear assuage.

    But nothin’ like a Christmas waltz,
    And nothin’ like young love,
    And nobody is findin’ faults,
    And lots to be proud of.

    And when the egg nog’s mostly gone,
    And the kids are ‘bout asleep,
    The hugs and handshakes linger long,
    And the night is gettin’ deep,

    And then all head for hearth and home,
    They jingle all the way,
    Snow drifts ‘cross the sandy loam,
    And soon comes Christmas Day.

    The evening wanes, kids tucked in bed,
    Gifts set beneath the tree,
    Stockings filled all green and red,
    A prayer for you and me.

    The Cowboy Christmas, all are blessed,
    Praise for the Savior’s birth,
    God gave to each His gracious rest,
    Good will and peace on earth.

    “Praise the Lord, the God of Israel, because He has visited and redeemed His people.  He has sent us a mighty Savior from the royal line of His servant David.” (Luke 1:68-69, NLT)

    Christmas is a festival of praise.  All the fun, food, music, lights and fellowship are because God has given us His greatest give- the Savior!  God has always been the One who saves, but now the ultimate salvation has entered the world and for one reason- to save that which is lost.  How sad that some of those who need it the most seem to feel it the least.  And how wonderful it is when someone discovers the love that meets them exactly where they are in order to take them where they have always should have been!  The devil lies when he claims to have the best party.  Jesus is the Lord of the dance and it’s time we put aside our fickleness and followed Him.  Christmas is a good time to get the party started!

  • S. Omar Barker’s “A Cowboy’s Christmas Prayer”

    Image:  S. Omar Barker – Texas Trail of Fame

    S. Omar Barker’s “A Cowboy’s Christmas Prayer”

    S. Omar Barker’s Christmas poem “A Cowboy’s Christmas Prayer” features a humble cowpoke, who is not accustomed to praying but is offering his heart-felt supplication at Christmas time.  As he prays, he reveals the qualities and issues of his life that are most important to him.

    Introduction with Text of “A Cowboy’s Christmas Prayer”

    This Christmas prayer/poem composed by cowboy poet, S. Omar Barker, allows a humble rider-of-the-range to express his deeply held wishes as he offers a supplication to the Lord for the good of all mankind.  The cowboy prayer is framed as a ballad-style narration emphasizing the simple, humble nature of the cowpoke.

    The ballad-influenced piece plays out in cowboy dialect and  in riming couplets.  Its stanza breaks are uneven with two single-line bridges that dissect the drama at important points to emphasize the shift in theme and tone.

    A Cowboy’s Christmas Prayer

    I ain’t much good at prayin’, and You may not know me, Lord —
    For I ain’t much seen in churches, where they preach Thy Holy Word.
    But you may have observed me out here on the lonely plains,
    A-lookin’ after cattle, feelin’ thankful when it rains.

    Admirin’ Thy great handiwork.

    The miracle of the grass,
    Aware of Thy kind Spirit, in the way it comes to pass
    That hired men on horseback and the livestock that we tend
    Can look up at the stars at night, and know we’ve got a Friend.

    So here’s ol’ Christmas comin’ on, remindin’ us again
    Of Him whose coming brought good will into the hearts of men.
    A cowboy ain’t a preacher, Lord, but if You’ll hear my prayer,
    I’ll ask as good as we have got for all men everywhere

    Don’t let no hearts be bitter, Lord.
    Don’t let no child be cold.
    Make easy the beds for them that’s sick and them that’s weak and old.
    Let kindness bless the trail we ride, no matter what we’re after,
    And sorter keep us on Your side, in tears as well as laughter.

    I’ve seen ol’ cows a-starvin’ — and it ain’t no happy sight;
    Please don’t leave no one hungry, Lord, on Thy Good Christmas Night —
    No man, no child, no woman, and no critter on four feet
    I’ll do my doggone best to help you find ’em chuck to eat.

    I’m just a sinful cowpoke, Lord — ain’t got no business prayin’
    But still I hope you’ll ketch a word or two, of what I’m sayin’:
    We speak of Merry Christmas, Lord—

    I reckon You’ll agree —

    There ain’t no Merry Christmas for nobody that ain’t free!
    So one thing more I ask You, Lord: just help us what You can
    To save some seeds of freedom for the future Sons of Man!

    Reading

    Commentary on “A Cowboy’s Christmas Prayer”

    S. Omar Barker’s “A Cowboy’s Christmas Prayer” dramatizes the prayer offered by a humble cowboy who is unaccustomed to praying and unacquainted with church services but who holds the blessings from the Creator very dear to his heart.  He expresses his gratitude for the simple life he lives and asks his Creator to bless others with kindness and prosperity.

    First Movement:  A Humble Prayer

    I ain’t much good at prayin’, and You may not know me, Lord —
    For I ain’t much seen in churches, where they preach Thy Holy Word.
    But you may have observed me out here on the lonely plains,
    A-lookin’ after cattle, feelin’ thankful when it rains.

    In the first quatrain, the supplicating cowboy begins by addressing the Lord, suggesting that the Lord may not even be acquainted with the cowboy; he then gives the reasons that he feels the Lord may not know him.  He has not attended church very often, and he knows that’s where they preach His “Holy Word.”

    However, the cowboy then suggests that perhaps the Creator has seen him out on the plains doing his work of watching “after cattle.”  The cowboy adds what he likely feels may be a useful introduction to the Lord Creator:  he has felt thankful for the rain that keeps life supported.

    Second Movement:  A Single-Line Bridge

    Admirin’ Thy great handiwork.

    The cowboy adds another positive feature in his heretofore somewhat tentative relationship with the Almighty: he has always admired the “great handiwork” that he often observes as he rides the range in the great outdoors.

    This line appears alone and emphasizes the important idea that the cowboy has always kept the Creator near to his heart by feeling enthralled by all of what He has created.  The cowboy is likely remembering the wide-open plains, the mountains, the trees, vegetation of the prairie, the night sky full of stars, and the cattle that he himself drives and protects. 

    This single line offers a useful bridge between the moments of prayer that supplicates, as it brings the Divine back into the cowboy’s consciousness.

    Third Movement:   Miracles in Creation

    The miracle of the grass,
    Aware of Thy kind Spirit, in the way it comes to pass
    That hired men on horseback and the livestock that we tend
    Can look up at the stars at night, and know we’ve got a Friend.

    The next quatrain offers a few specific examples of the great Lord’s “handiwork.”  The cowboy first mentions the grass, which he describes as a “miracle.”  He then avers that even as a simply cowpoke he feels the nature of the Lord is kindness.

    And through that “kind Spirit,” he reports that somehow the graceful occasion exists that those hired hands who work riding horseback and tending livestock are able to observe the sky full of “stars at night.”

    The cowboy makes it clear that such a sight fills his heart with gratitude that he and his fellow workers “got a Friend.”  His relationship with the Lord has blossomed even as he admits his tentative relationship with church and prayer.

    Fourth Movement:  Good Will

    So here’s ol’ Christmas comin’ on, remindin’ us again
    Of Him whose coming brought good will into the hearts of men.
    A cowboy ain’t a preacher, Lord, but if You’ll hear my prayer,
    I’ll ask as good as we have got for all men everywhere.

    Likely the coming of the season of Christmas has been the impetus for the cowboy to be offering this halting prayer.  So he now tells the Lord that the coming of Christmas has reminded him of Jesus the Christ, Who “brought good will” into men’s hearts.

    Even though he “ain’t a preacher,” the cowboy expresses the hope that the Lord will still hear his prayer.  He promises to supplicate for the “good” of everyone everywhere.  He wishes that all men may be as blessed as he his.  His gratitude keeps his own heart open to the Lord’s grace.

    Fifth Movement:  Prayer of a Simple Soul

    Don’t let no hearts be bitter, Lord.
    Don’t let no child be cold.
    Make easy the beds for them that’s sick and them that’s weak and old.
    Let kindness bless the trail we ride, no matter what we’re after,
    And sorter keep us on Your side, in tears as well as laughter.

    In the next cinquain, the speaker offers a catalogue of blessings that he wishes to ask of the Lord.  He asks that no bitterness reside in the hearts of men, as he asks that “no child be cold.”  

    He asks the Lord comfort those who are ill and make their convalescence go smoothly.  He also wish ease and comfort for those who are old and weak.  He asks kind-heartedness remain a feature of the “trail we ride.” He then asks the Creator to keep humanity on His side throughout good times as well as bad times.

    Sixth Movement:  Praying for Others’ Welfare

    I’ve seen ol’ cows a-starvin’ — and it ain’t no happy sight;
    Please don’t leave no one hungry, Lord, on Thy Good Christmas Night —
    No man, no child, no woman, and no critter on four feet
    I’ll do my doggone best to help you find ’em chuck to eat.

    Returning to the quatrain-form for the sixth movement, the speaker focuses on hunger; he has observed cows that are starving to death, and that sight weighs heavily on his heart and mind; thus, he begs the Lord to “leave no one hungry.” 

    This deprivation is so important to him that he asks that “no man, no child, no woman” be allowed to go hungry.  But he also wants the Lord to protect all animals from the fate of hunger.  He then promises to help the Lord in finding food for all who are hungry.

    Seventh Movement:  Self-Deprecation 

    I’m just a sinful cowpoke, Lord — ain’t got no business prayin’
    But still I hope you’ll ketch a word or two, of what I’m sayin’:
    We speak of Merry Christmas, Lord—

    In the next tercet, the cowboy again engages in self-deprecation, saying he is “just a sinful cowpoke” and he does not deserve to be “prayin’.”  Still, he expresses the hope that the Creator will hear at least “a word or two” of his prayer.  

    The cowboy/speaker then begins a thought which is so important that he offers merely the opening of it, allowing its conclusion to spread over another bridge and into the final tercet.  He begins by reporting that “[w]e speak of Merry Christmas, Lord—.”

    Eighth Movement:  Agreement with His Lord

    I reckon You’ll agree —

    The speaker then creates a second bridge between thoughts.  This time he inserts the important notion he thinks the Lord will agree with what he is about to propose. By beginning the thought in the conclusion of the seventh movement, allowing it to marinate through the eighth bridge movement, he has created a small mystery that emphasizes the utterly vital importance of his final thought.

    Ninth Movement:  Freedom Is Vital

    There ain’t no Merry Christmas for nobody that ain’t free!
    So one thing more I ask You, Lord: just help us what You can
    To save some seeds of freedom for the future Sons of Man!

    Finally, the cowboy issues his important claim before God and world that the most important possession that mankind must retain is “freedom.”  There can be no “Merry Christmas” unless humanity is free to enjoy it; no happiness can exists for any individual “that ain’t free!”

    Thus, the cowboy’s final supplication is that the Lord “save some seeds of freedom for the future Sons of Man!”  He asks his Creator to allow the love and hope of freedom to grow with mankind in all lands for all time.