Linda's Literary Home

Tag: God

  • Gerard Manley Hopkins’ “I wake and feel the fell of dark, not day”

    Image: Gerard Manley Hopkins – National Portrait Gallery, London

    Gerard Manley Hopkins’ “I wake and feel the fell of dark, not day”

    The speaker Gerard Manley Hopkins’ “I wake and feel the fell of dark, not day” is confronting spiritual desolation, interior darkness, and the sense of abandonment by God. 

    Awakening into psychological night, the speaker measures time not in hours but in years of suffering. His cries feel unheard, like letters sent to one who lives far away. In the sestet, suffering turns inward as his soul becomes both the source and the punishment of torment.

    Introduction and Text of “I wake and feel the fell of dark, not day”

    This sonnet is the second installment belonging to the group of six poems often called the “terrible sonnets.”  They focus on intense inward struggle in highly compressed language, and they reveal a profound sense of spiritual trial. The speaker is describing an internal condition of darkness that persists even after waking. 

    The poem follows the traditional Petrarchan structure, but the poet displayed the poem on the page separating the octave into two quatrains and the sestet into two tercets. The octave presents the condition of suffering, followed by the sestet which deepens and internalizes that suffering. The language remains quite visceral, yet sacramental and judicial, suggesting punishment and endurance.

    I wake and feel the fell of dark, not day

    I wake and feel the fell of dark, not day.
    What hours, O what black hours we have spent
    This night! what sights you, heart, saw; ways you went!
    And more must, in yet longer light’s delay.

    With witness I speak this. But where I say
    Hours I mean years, mean life. And my lament
    Is cries countless, cries like dead letters sent
    To dearest him that lives alas! away.

    I am gall, I am heartburn. God’s most deep decree
    Bitter would have me taste: my taste was me;
    Bones built in me, flesh filled, blood brimmed the curse.

    Selfyeast of spirit a dull dough sours. I see
    The lost are like this, and their scourge to be
    As I am mine, their sweating selves, but worse.

    Reading

    Commentary on “I wake and feel the fell of dark, not day”

    In the octave, the speaker presents spiritual suffering as prolonged night and unanswered prayer, while the sestet reveals suffering as internalized judgment.

    Octave: “I wake and feel the fell of dark, not day.”

    I wake and feel the fell of dark, not day.
    What hours, O what black hours we have spent
    This night! what sights you, heart, saw; ways you went!
    And more must, in yet longer light’s delay.

    With witness I speak this. But where I say
    Hours I mean years, mean life. And my lament
    Is cries countless, cries like dead letters sent
    To dearest him that lives alas! away.

    The octave opens abruptly: “I wake and feel the fell of dark, not day.” The speaker awakens, yet awakening does not bring light. The word fell suggests something savage, cruel, or deadly, as though darkness itself were an attacking force. 

    Day has failed to arrive, not externally but internally. The speaker’s consciousness remains trapped in night. This darkness is not merely the absence of light but a palpable weight that can be felt.

    The second line intensifies this experience. The repetition emphasizes exhaustion. These hours are not ordinary; they are “black hours,” heavy with dread.   The speaker addresses his own heart directly, asking it to remember what it has seen and where it has wandered, suggesting a night filled with disturbing thoughts, memories, or spiritual visions that cannot be escaped even in sleep.

    The line “And more must, in yet longer light’s delay” extends the suffering into the future. Relief is postponed; light is delayed. The speaker anticipates further endurance without comfort. The octave has thus established a defining theme: suffering continues; the speaker is conscious of the fact that it is also unavoidable.

    In the second quatrain, the speaker asserts his testimony.  He is not exaggerating or indulging emotion; instead, he is claiming authority as one who has endured. Yet immediately, time expands. When he says “hours,” he means “years,” and beyond that, “life.” What began as a single night becomes a metaphor for an entire existence marked by anguish. The darkness is not episodic but continually defining.

    The lament itself takes the form of “cries countless.” These cries are compared to missives sent to a loved one far away.   The metaphor is striking. The speaker believes his cries are addressed to God, “dearest him,” yet they receive no reply. Like letters that never reach their destination, these prayers feel wasted, unheard, and perhaps unopened. God is known to be living, yet distant.

    The emotional force of the octave lies in this tension: the speaker continues to cry out, continues to bear witness, even while believing those cries go unanswered.  The speaker is not revealing disbelief but instead he is demonstrating faith that yet suffers. 

    The speaker holds no compunction to deny God’s existence, a suffering humanity often is wont to do; instead, he suffers under God’s silence. The speaker therefore is expressing despair not as rebellion but as endurance under abandonment. The night continues, the cries continue, and the speaker remains awake within it.

    Sestet: “I am gall, I am heartburn. God’s most deep decree”

    I am gall, I am heartburn. God’s most deep decree
    Bitter would have me taste: my taste was me;
    Bones built in me, flesh filled, blood brimmed the curse.

    Selfyeast of spirit a dull dough sours. I see
    The lost are like this, and their scourge to be
    As I am mine, their sweating selves, but worse.

    The sestet takes a decisive inward turn. Where the octave emphasized time and unanswered cries, the sestet focuses on the body and self as the site of punishment.  The speaker does not merely feel bitterness; he is bitterness. Gall, a bitter substance associated with suffering and poison, suggests spiritual nausea. Heartburn implies a burning from within, a pain generated internally rather than inflicted from without.

    The speaker attributes this condition to “God’s most deep decree.” This suffering is not accidental or random. It is permitted, even ordained. The bitterness is something the speaker must taste, yet the shocking revelation follows: “my taste was me.” The self (soul) becomes both the instrument and the substance of suffering. There is no external punishment necessary; identity itself is the affliction.

    The line “Bones built in me, flesh filled, blood brimmed the curse” intensifies the embodiment of despair.  The curse is not simply symbolic; it saturates the physical body. Bones, flesh, and blood—the fundamental elements of life—are all implicated. Suffering is total, leaving no refuge within the soul. The speaker’s claims suggest a complete inhabitation or incarnation of pain, as though despair has become structural.

    The metaphor of fermentation is created in the line “Selfyeast of spirit a dull dough sours.” Yeast is normally a source of growth and life, but here it produces sourness. The spirit works upon itself destructively. The self generates its own decay. This image reinforces the idea that suffering is self-contained, inescapable, but continuous.

    In the final lines, the speaker broadens his vision.  He recognizes his condition as a foretaste of damnation. The lost are punished not by external flames but by being trapped within themselves. Their scourge is to be “their sweating selves.” The speaker identifies with this fate, acknowledging that he already experiences something like it, though he believes theirs will be worse.

    The sestet ends without consolation. There is no resolution, no light breaking through. Instead, the poem concludes with recognition and endurance. The speaker understands the nature of suffering more clearly, but understanding does not remove it. The sonnet closes in grim clarity rather than hope.

  • Gerard Manley Hopkins’ “The Habit of Perfection”

    Image: Gerard Manley Hopkins – Inspirational Jesuits

    Gerard Manley Hopkins’ “The Habit of Perfection”

    Father Gerard Manley Hopkins’ poem “The Habit of Perfection” dramatizes the importance of silencing and stilling each of the five senses in order to advance in the spiritual realm.

    Introduction with Text of “The Habit of Perfection”

    The title “The Habit of Perfection” of Gerard Manley Hopkins’ poem features a pun on the term “habit.” As a monk, the poet had accepted the garb of the monastic, sometimes called a habit. Of course, the ordinary meaning of common routine also functions fully.

    About the importance of silence, Paramahansa Yogananda has averred, “What joy awaits discovery in the silence behind the portals of your mind no human tongue can tell” (Spiritual Diary).

    Jesuit Priest Gerard Manley Hopkins concurs with the Indian guru’s claim. Father Hopkins’ poem dramatizes the bliss of silence in seven rimed quatrains, each with the rime scheme, ABAB, featuring his famous sprung rhythm and inscape techniques.  The devotee/speaker commands each of his senses to cease their normal functioning, in order that his soul may meditate in holy silence and commune with the Divine.

    The Habit of Perfection

    Elected Silence, sing to me
    And beat upon my whorlèd ear,
    Pipe me to pastures still and be
    The music that I care to hear.

    Shape nothing, lips; be lovely-dumb:
    It is the shut, the curfew sent
    From there where all surrenders come
    Which only makes you eloquent.

    Be shellèd, eyes, with double dark
    And find the uncreated light:
    This ruck and reel which you remark
    Coils, keeps, and teases simple sight.

    Palate, the hutch of tasty lust,
    Desire not to be rinsed with wine:
    The can must be so sweet, the crust
    So fresh that come in fasts divine!

    Nostrils, your careless breath that spend
    Upon the stir and keep of pride,
    What relish shall the censers send
    Along the sanctuary side!

    O feel-of-primrose hands, O feet
    That want the yield of plushy sward,
    But you shall walk the golden street
    And you unhouse and house the Lord.

    And, Poverty, be thou the bride
    And now the marriage feast begun,
    And lily-coloured clothes provide
    Your spouse not laboured-at nor spun.

    Reading

    Commentary on “The Habit of Perfection”

    Father Hopkins’ poem “The Habit of Perfection” dramatizes the importance of silencing and stilling each of the five senses in order to advance spiritually to experience union with the Divine Reality.

    First Quatrain: Devotee of the Spiritual Path

    Elected Silence, sing to me
    And beat upon my whorlèd ear,
    Pipe me to pastures still and be
    The music that I care to hear.

    The speaker reveals himself to be a devotee on the spiritual path, as he converses with “Elected Silence.” The devotee chooses silence as the place where inner awareness starts, remembering the biblical injunction, “Be still, and know that I am God” (Psalm 46:10 King James Version).

    The speaker metaphorically likens his Elected Silence to music, capable of singing to him and beating upon his eardrum.  This silence “pipe[s him] to pastures” in the mind which he wants to still. He, therefore, asks silence to be “the music that [he cares] to hear.”

    Second Quatrain:  Commanding the Senses

    Shape nothing, lips; be lovely-dumb:
    It is the shut, the curfew sent
    From there where all surrenders come
    Which only makes you eloquent.

    As an adjunct to the auditory sense, speaking or moving the lips must cease as well as catching sounds with the ear; thus, the speaker bids his lips to remain “lovely-dumb.”  He tells his lips to form no sounds, stressing that the eloquent speech of the devotee is in his surrender to the Divine. The devotee must remain silent in order to hear the voice of Divinity.

    Third Quatrain:   Calming the Sense of Sight

    Be shellèd, eyes, with double dark
    And find the uncreated light:
    This ruck and reel which you remark
    Coils, keeps, and teases simple sight.

    The speaker then bids his eyes remain closed. He commands them to seek “double dark” beyond which they can encounter the “uncreated light.” In their seeking, the eyes may experience flashes of unearthly light that “[c]oils, keeps, and teases simple sight.”  But the devotee’s goal is to become so calm that the physical eyes cease to catch mere glimpses, while the single spiritual eye becomes operational.

    Fourth Quatrain:   Calming the Sense of Taste

    Palate, the hutch of tasty lust,
    Desire not to be rinsed with wine:
    The can must be so sweet, the crust
    So fresh that come in fasts divine!

    The speaker/devotee orders his sense of taste to cease its intrusion upon the soul. He specifically commands his taste buds not to crave wine.  The sense of taste must be subdued by fasting, wherein the urge for food and drink become swallowed up in the bliss of Divine communion.

    Fifth Quatrain:   Calming the Sense of Smell

    Nostrils, your careless breath that spend
    Upon the stir and keep of pride,
    What relish shall the censers send
    Along the sanctuary side!

    The sense of smell accompanies the act of breathing, and in meditation, breathing slows until it stops in deepest awareness of the Divine Essence.  The speaker commands his nose by asserting the premise that it functions through a sense of pride, which is damaging to the humbleness necessary for Divine awareness.

    Sixth Quatrain:  Calming the Sense of Touch

    O feel-of-primrose hands, O feet
    That want the yield of plushy sward,
    But you shall walk the golden street
    And you unhouse and house the Lord.

    The speaker then promises his greedy hands and feet, which desire softness and comfort, that they will be rewarded to walk the golden street, if they cooperate in sacrificing their worldly comforts for heavenly ones.

    Seventh Quatrain:  Union of Soul and Divine

    And, Poverty, be thou the bride
    And now the marriage feast begun,
    And lily-coloured clothes provide
    Your spouse not laboured-at nor spun.

    In the final quatrain, the speaker alludes to the Christ’s command not to become overly conscious about one’s clothes: 

    And why take ye thought for raiment? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin: And yet I say unto you, That even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.  (Matthew 6:28-29 KJV)

    The speaker avers that taking Poverty as his bride, he will enjoy all the comforts of heaven. As a monastic, the speaker has taken a vow of poverty or simplicity because he is seeking treasures not afforded by the material world. 

    As he silences and calms all the senses, his true marriage feast begins, his marriage or union with the Divine Over-Soul, in Whom all worthwhile treasures are acquired and all worthy goals are achieved.

  • Gerard Manley Hopkins’ “Pied Beauty”

    Gerard Manley Hopkins – National Portrait Gallery, London

    Gerard Manley Hopkins’ “Pied Beauty”

    Gerard Manley  Hopkins’ “Pied Beauty” is an eleven-line curtal sonnet, dedicated to honoring and praising God for the special beauty of His creation.  Father Hopkins coined the term “curtal” to label his eleven-line sonnets.

    Introduction and Text of “Pied Beauty”

    The speaker in Gerard Manley Hopkins’ poem/hymn “Pied Beauty” offers a tribute to the Creator for all things natural and human inspired, with special emphasis on things that are multi-colored, dotted, striped, or patterned in ingenious ways.  The poem employs Father Hopkins’ famed sprung rhythm and unique rime scheme: ABCABCDBCDC.  

    The poem is an eleven-line sonnet called a curtal, a term which Father Hopkins coined to describe the form he employed in certain of his poems, including “Pied Beauty.”  While the speaker emphasizes beauty by contrasting things that are widely touted as unpleasant yet possess a certain aura of unique loveliness, he ultimately is affirming that God has made all of creation to reflect various styles of beauty.

    Thus, the speaker begins by giving all “glory” to God for all these created things, and he concludes by insisting that God be praised for giving humankind these many patterned objects of beauty.   

    God and beauty are being weighed in special terms as the speaker creates in his hymn a drama of oppositional tension that results in the creation of balance and harmony.    Through appreciation and praise of God for His gifts, humankind learns that balance and harmony in order to complete life’s goals and purposes. 

    Pied Beauty

    Glory be to God for dappled things –
       For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;
          For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
    Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches’ wings;
       Landscape plotted and pieced – fold, fallow, and plough;
          And áll trádes, their gear and tackle and trim. 

    All things counter, original, spare, strange;
       Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)
          With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;
    He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:
                                    Praise him.

    Recitation of “Pied Beauty”

    Commentary on “Pied Beauty”

    Father Hopkins’ poem remarkably enlists several synonyms for the important title term “pied.”  Those synonyms are dappled, couple-colour, brinded (archaic form of brindled), stipple, and freckled.   All of those terms refer to multi-color or dotted patterns that so often appear in nature, that this observant human heart finds divinely inspired.

    The poem is, therefore, a hymn honoring the Supreme Creator of all that exists.  The piece offers gratitude that the Heavenly Father-Creator has fashioned His world to provide delight for His children.

    First Movement:  A Pattern of Gratitude

    Glory be to God for dappled things –

    The speaker begins by glorifying Creator-God for having effected His world to include objects that are multi-spotted and multi-colored.  While the speaker undoubtedly offers God all glory to everything in creation, he also glorifies his Creator for not only things but also events.  The act of creation remains of particular interest.

    The speaker appears to be concentrating on a certain style and pattern that the Almighty has chosen to bestow on certain of His creatures and things.  And this devout speaker remains most appreciative of those patterns.  Thus, the glory, the honor, and the achievement of God have infused this speaker’s heart and mind to express gratitude.

    Second Movement:  Examples of All Things Dappled

    For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;
          For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
    Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches’ wings;
       Landscape plotted and pieced – fold, fallow, and plough;
          And áll trádes, their gear and tackle and trim.

    The speaker then offers examples of those “dappled” things for which he is offering glory to God. He appreciates the sky that ofttimes appears as multi-colored as a spotted bovine.  The speaker is thankful also for the patterns that are dotted over the bodies of “trout that swim.”  These stippling patterns resemble small mole-like roses as they decorate the skin of those fish.

    This observant, devout speaker also adores the beauty of fallen chestnuts that resemble freshly set-ablaze fire coals on a grate or in a stove.   He also uses the “finches’ wings” to exemplify his appreciation for things “dappled.”  The wings of finches are often layered strips.  The speaker then widens his example to include even the “[l]andscape” or the farmers’ fields that the farmer has “plotted and pieced” in order to plough and “fold” or allow to lie “fallow.”  

    He finds those patterns to be offering the glory that all “dappled” things offer; thus, he honors them by mentioning them as an example. In fact, every commercial endeavor deserves a nod along with the instruments, their tools, which he refers to as “gear,” “tackle,” and “trim.”

    Third Movement:  The Spice of Variety

     All things counter, original, spare, strange;

    In the second stanza, beginning with the third movement, the speaker shifts from simple  spotted, multi-colored things to everything remaining that runs against expectation, or that is original and unique, or things that seem simple, and things that appear odd.

    Because creation seems to offer an infinite number of styles, patterns, and ways of being, the speaker now wishes to praise God and glorify the Divine Maker by recognizing the Creator’s penchant for variety. 

    If the old adage “variety is the spice of life” possesses any truth, then certainly the Heavenly Father-God is responsible for the creation of those spices.  This speaker thus widens his scope for gratitude.

    Fourth Movement:  Things That Change

     Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)
          With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim; 

    The speaker then offers further elucidation for the other components that make up his glossary of things that deserve attention and appreciation because of their having been offered to humankind by the Ultimate Reality, the Supreme Creator of the cosmos.

    So the speaker reports that all things, beings, creatures that possess the quality of fickleness or changeability belong to his list of things that honor and give glory to God.  Even “freckled” things, of which no one can define the origin, belong to this category.

    Those “fickle” and “freckled” things all have several qualities in common; thus, they may exist and behave with speed or move measuredly.   They may possess the opposite flavors of sweetness or sourness.  Some may also reflect light blazingly while others remain muted and subdued.

    Regardless of the unique qualities, they are all part of the Blessèd Creator’s offerings to His children for their pleasure or for their edification or to light whatever pathway they are destined to follow.

    Fifth Movement:  That Which Does not Change

    He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:
                                    Praise him.

    The speaker then concludes with a command—”Praise him.”  In the beginning, he made it clear that he was offering all glory to God for the things He has given through creation. Now he offers his stern command, but before that command, he offers the reason that such praise is due Him. 

    The Father of all this beauty continues, and although He Himself is “past change” or without the necessity to change Himself, He continues to offer through creation a beauty that is many faceted, multi-colored, multi-stippled, and brindled. And all things remain on a spectrum that humankind cannot duplicate but is surely obligated to honor, appreciate, and glorify in the name of Father God.

  • Gerard Manley Hopkins’ “God’s Grandeur”

    Image: Gerard Manley Hopkins

    Gerard Manley Hopkins’ “God’s Grandeur”

    Despite the “smudge” and “smear” from some human activity, the speaker is offering assurance that the Creator’s blessings and restoration of Planet Earth remain in effect through the “grandeur” of that Creative Force-God.  Instead of instilling fear of earthly events, he encourages worship.

    Introduction with Text of  “God’s Grandeur”

    Father Gerard Manley Hopkins’ motivation to imitate Spirit (God) prompts him to craft his poems in forms, as Spirit creates entities in forms—from rocks to animals to plants to the human body. 

    Father Hopkins often employs the sonnet form. “God’s Grandeur” is a sonnet—fourteen lines, more similar to the Petrarchan than the Elizabethan. The first eight lines (octave) present an issue; then, the remaining six lines (sestet) address that issue.  

    Father Hopkins’ rime scheme is typically ABBAABBA CDCDCD, which also resembles the Petrarchan rime scheme in the octave. He employs iambic pentameter but varies from spondee to trochee.  Father Hopkins’ called his unique form “sprung rhythm.”

    God’s Grandeur

    The world is charged with the grandeur of God.
        It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;
        It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil
    Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod?
    Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;
        And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;
        And wears man’s smudge and shares man’s smell: the soil
    Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod. 

    And for all this, nature is never spent;
        There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;
    And though the last lights off the black West went
        Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs —
    Because the Holy Ghost over the bent
        World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.

    Reading:  

    Commentary on “God’s Grandeur”

    Decrying the “smudge” and “smear” from human activity, the speaker asserts that despite humankind’s penchant for defiling nature, the Creator continues to bless and restore the world—a message that flies in the face of climate alarmists.

    However, in today’s smudged, postmodern world, one pays a price for criticizing climate alarmists who have replaced faith in the Creator with constant agitation for political ascendency.

    The Octave:  Pantheistic View of God

    The world is charged with the grandeur of God.
        It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;
        It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil
    Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod?
    Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;
        And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;
        And wears man’s smudge and shares man’s smell: the soil
    Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod. 

    The speaker in this Petrarchan sonnet sees God everywhere: “The world is charged with the grandeur of God.”  His soul is convinced, but his senses tell him that people do not behave as if this were true: “Why do men then not reck his rod?” 

    Not only do men, i.e. humankind, not heed the Divine, they also seem content to exist in darkness from where they spread gloom on the environment.   The speaker contends that whole generations of humanity have trampled the earth, defiling nature as they apply their systems of “trade.”

    The speaker is dramatizing Father Hopkins’ sense that human beings have become more interested in materialistic gain and possessions than in celebrating the glory of a loving, merciful, Heavenly Father. 

    The Sestet:  God’s Gifts Cannot Be Exhausted

    And for all this, nature is never spent;
        There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;
    And though the last lights off the black West went
        Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs —
    Because the Holy Ghost over the bent
        World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.

    The octave has presented the issue: humankind is oblivious to God’s gifts and thus defiles them.  The sestet addresses the issue: despite indifference to the Creator, humankind cannot exhaust the gifts that the Creator bestows, because nature continues to renew itself through the agency of the Divine.  

    Thus, a “dearest freshness” continues to assert itself, despite the dirty ways of humankind.  Humankind may disregard God’s grandeur, but everything renews despite human activity.

    The speaker’s faith leaves him no room for doubt, because that faith has infused in him the intuition that the “Holy Ghost” is always watching over humankind, the children of Spirit-God, somewhat like a mother bird watches over her little flock.

    The Holy Ghost (Divine Mother) will ever mother humanity—Her little birds. Father Hopkins’ mystical insight brings him to the faith that throbs in his soul—in his “inscape,” his unique term for his inner landscape. 

    The Mystical Poet and God’s Creation

    And “in the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God” (KJV, John 1:1).  This line speaks gently but firmly to the inner ear of mystically inclined poets.  

    As originally determined, a poet is a word craftsman, and when the poet of genuine faith builds with words, he is imitating God, taking his discourse out of dogma and into true spirituality.  The form of “God’s Grandeur” closely resembles Father Hopkins’ other poems. 

    In “The Windhover,” the rime scheme is the same as that of “God’s Grandeur.” The same is true for “The Lantern out of Doors,” “Hurrahing in Harvest,” and “As Kingfishers Catch Fire.”

    Father Hopkins sonnets celebrate Spirit and continue the search for a deeper relationship with the Mastercraftsman (God). Occasionally, as he structures his sonnets, they produce an order that further marks a style uniquely his own.

    Readers do not encounter any structure resembling “Stirred for a birds, the achieve of, the mastery of the thing” in a Thomas Hardy or A. E. Housman poem—or that of any other poet—the uniqueness of Father Hopkins is so firmly established. 

    Also, a typical line of Father Hopkins is “Let him easter in us, be a dayspring to the dimness of us, be a crimson-cresseted east,” which contains the example of his meter and content.

    Divine Melancholy 

    The melancholy experienced by Father Gerard Manley Hopkins is of divine origin. The ameliorist in Thomas Hardy produces in his poems a different sort of melancholy.    Father Hopkins has faith; Hardy has hope.  One may deem Hardy spiritually adrift on the sea of humankind’s woe, even when he sings, 

    I talk as if the things were born
    With sense to work its mind;
    Yet it is but one mask of many worn
    By the Great Face behind.

    Referring to the veiled nature of God, Hardy seems to bemoan it rather than celebrate it, as Father Hopkins does.   Housman is preoccupied with endings. He says, “And since to look at things in bloom / Fifty springs are little room” and “sharp the link of life will snap.” 

    Of course, all poets are concerned with endings, but each poet in his work will treat those concerns in distinctive ways, according to their levels of understanding and faith.   Hardy, Housman, and many other poets remain earthbound looking for answers to ultimate questions among the various outlets for human intellectual expression.  And their search is a vital one for humankind.

    However, Father Hopkins’ “God’s Grandeur” along with the rest of his canon affords the reader the experience of hearing beautiful singing loud and sweet a poet’s song of the love for the Divine.  

    Father Hopkins’ faith set him free to pursue and express Divine Love, instead of endless searching for that something-else that the faithless heart craves as it laments the trammels of Earth.

  • Langston Hughes’ “The Negro Speaks of Rivers”

    Image:  Langston Hughes.  Library of Congress. Photographer Gordon Parks 

    Langston Hughes’ “The Negro Speaks of Rivers”

    Langston Hughes’ speaker in “The Negro Speaks of Rivers” displays his message in five versagraphic movements, thematically exploring his soul experience with a “cosmic voice,” which includes and unites all of humanity.

    Note on Term Usage: Before the late 1980s in the United States, the terms “Negro,” “colored,” and “black” were accepted widely in American English parlance.   While the term “Negro” had started to lose it popularity in the 1960s, it wasn’t until 1988 that the Reverend Jesse Jackson began insisting that Americans adopt the phrase “African American.”  The earlier more accurate terms were the custom at the time that Langston Hughes was writing.

    Introduction and Text of “The Negro Speaks of Rivers”

    Langston Hughes’ speaker in “The Negro Speaks of Rivers” displays his message with a “cosmic voice,” which includes and unites all of humanity.  The poem plays out in five versagraphic movements, focusing on the theme of soul exploration.

    The Cosmic Voice in Poetry

    Writers, especially poets, often employ the “cosmic voice” in order to provide a deep and wide view of historical events and vast swaths of space.  A device called the omniscient speaker is often used in fiction; that voice is similar to the cosmic voice but much more limited.

    Time and space may stretch or contract as needed as the cosmic seer narrates what he experiences.  The “cosmic voice” may come to a poet through a vivid imagination; however, it transcends the imagination as a truth teller.   Only a few poets have been blessed with such a voice; examples are Emily Dickinson, Rabindranath Tagore, Paramahansa Yogananda, and to a limited degree Walt Whitman.

    The cosmic voice imparts truth through deep intuition.  The soul of the speaker employing the cosmic voice is, even if only temporarily as is the case with Langston Hughes, becomes aware of its vast and profound knowledge.  The cosmic voice speaks from a place far beyond ordinary sense awareness.  

    Individuals who comprehend the cosmic voice are bequeathed a consciousness far beyond their own sense awareness and thus comprehend the unity of all created things.  Those individuals are heralded into the realm of the Cosmic Creator and often remain transformed beings for having experienced that Sacred Locus.

    Langston Hughes and the Cosmic Voice

    The voice employed in “The Negro Speaks of Rivers” is not a whining, complaining one so often heard in the protest voices of activists; instead Hughes is employing the cosmic voice—the voice of the soul that knows itself to be a divine entity.  That voice speaks with inherent authority; it reports its intuitions so that others might hear and regain their own experiences through its guidance.

    Langston Hughes’ speaker in “The Negro Speaks of Rivers” imparts his discourse in five versagraphic movements.  His theme explores with the cosmic voice that unites all of humanity.  

    The vital lines that serve as a refrain—”I’ve known rivers” and “My soul has grown deep like the rivers”—work like a chant, instilling in the listener the truth that the speaker wishes to impart.  That Langston Hughes was able to employ a cosmic voice in a poem at age seventeen is quite remarkable.  

    Although some of his later work, even as much of it remained important and very entertaining, descended into the banal and at times even slipshod, no one can deny his marvelous accomplishment with this early poem in which he speaks as a master craftsman.

    The Negro Speaks of Rivers 

    I’ve known rivers:
    I’ve known rivers ancient as the world and older than the flow
    of human blood in human veins.

    My soul has grown deep like the rivers.

    I bathed in the Euphrates when dawns were young.
    I built my hut near the Congo and it lulled me to sleep.
    I looked upon the Nile and raised the pyramids above it.
    I heard the singing of the Mississippi when Abe Lincoln
         went down to New Orleans, and I’ve seen its muddy
         bosom turn all golden in the sunset.

    I’ve known rivers:
    Ancient, dusky rivers.

    My soul has grown deep like the rivers.

    Reading:   Langston Hughes reads his poem “The Negro Speaks of Rivers”

    Commentary on “The Negro Speaks of Rivers”

    Langston Hughes’ speaker in “The Negro Speaks of Rivers” stands as high testimony to the poet’s ability to craft genuine, heartfelt poetry.  To have composed such a profound piece of art at such an early age bespeaks a literary marvel.

    First Movement:  The River as a Symbol

    I’ve known rivers:
    I’ve known rivers ancient as the world and older than the flow
    of human blood in human veins.

    The poem opens with the speaker remarking rather nonchalantly that he has experienced the natural phenomenon known as “rivers.”  He has no doubt observed rivers flowing in their channels, and he has become aware that rivers flow through the earth as blood flows through the veins of human beings.  

    Both flowing rivers and flowing blood must be ancient, but the speaker intuits that the flow of the rivers surely predates that of the appearance of the human being upon the planet. The river image becomes a symbol linking all of humanity from the pre-historic era to the present day.   

    As the “river” has served to carry the physical encasements (bodies) and mental bodies over the rough terrain of land and rocks, the symbolic river carries the soul on its Divine journey.   Readers and listeners will easily intuit the significance of the speaker’s focus as it ranges far beyond the boundaries of the physical, material universe.

    Second Movement:  Intuitive Awareness

    My soul has grown deep like the rivers.

    This line indicates that the speaker has become aware that through his own soul he can intuit historical events, places, and people, who have existed from the beginning to time.  The line becomes a refrain and will be encountered again in the poem because of its great importance.  

    It becomes quite obvious that the speaker would not have been able to know literally the rivers of antiquity that he claims to “know.”  However, through his soul, or mystical awareness, he can.  Thus, he again employs the cosmic, thus mystical, voice to fashion his assertion.

    Third Movement: Historical Unity

    I bathed in the Euphrates when dawns were young.
    I built my hut near the Congo and it lulled me to sleep.
    I looked upon the Nile and raised the pyramids above it.
    I heard the singing of the Mississippi when Abe Lincoln
         went down to New Orleans, and I’ve seen its muddy
         bosom turn all golden in the sunset.

    The speaker claims that he “bathed in the Euphrates” at the dawning of Western civilization.  From the Euphrates to the Mississippi Rivers, the speaker offers a huge expansion of time and place.  

    In biblical times to present time, he lays claim to knowledge, again impossible except for soul consciousness. Awareness through the soul is unlimited, unlike the limitations of body and mind.  The speaker could not have experienced the Euphrates when “dawns were young.”  

    But the cosmic voice of the speaker can place itself at any point along the time line of civilization or cosmic creation. In claiming to have built his “hut near the Congo,” the speaker continues his cosmic, mystically inspired journey.  He “looked upon the Nile”  and “raised the pyramids” only as a cosmic-voiced speaker.

    People of all times and climes have been influenced by the river experience.  The speaker can thus unite all races, nationalities, creeds, and religions in his gathering of historic experiences within which all those peoples have lived.   And he accomplishes this feat through employment of the symbolic force of the “river.” 

    Emphasizing the American experience, the speaker claims to have “heard the singing of the Mississippi when Abe Lincoln / went / down to New Orleans . . . .”   The allusion to President Abraham Lincoln reminds the reader of the process of slave emancipation.

    As with all the rivers mentioned, the Mississippi River, an American river, stands as a symbol of the blood of the human race—not naturally segregated into color and national categories. The American Mississippi River, as the earlier mention of rivers has done, symbolizes the human blood of the human race—the only race that scientifically exists.

    Fourth Movement:  A Soul Chant

    I’ve known rivers:
    Ancient, dusky rivers.

    Because of the importance of the “river” as a symbol, the speaker repeats the line, “I’ve known rivers.”  Like the line, “My soul has grown deep like the rivers,” this one also  serves as a refrain.   If the speaker had chanted the line many more times, the poem’s delightful charm would have even been enhanced—that line is that crucial!

    The soul, the river, the depth of the soul and the river—all force history to yield a mighty blessing on those who have “known rivers,”  and whose souls have grown deep like those rivers. 

    Thus the speaker offers a brief description of how those river appear:  they are extremely old, and they are mystically dark, a measure that alludes to the dark-skinned race with graceful precision, even as it holds all races as having experienced the nature of the mystic river.

    Fifth Movement: Life Force and the Symbol of the River

    My soul has grown deep like the rivers.

    The speaker’s soul has grown profoundly deep like the rivers and along with the rivers.  Civilizations have grown up and grown deep along rivers all over Planet Earth. The soul that possesses the body is the life force informing and maintaining that body. 

    Likewise, rivers streaming through the earth give life force to civilizations and also assist in maintaining those civilization with the products and supplies that river travel has allowed over the centuries.

    The speaker is taking his own identity from the energetic force of the soul and the river force of the earth.  The children of the Divine Creative Reality (God) all spring forth from a common ancestry, a symbolic set of original parents.   It has always been rivers that link all of those ancestors as the blood in their veins links them into one family—the Human Race.

    The cosmic voice of a young poet—who happened possess the darker hue of skin along the color spectrum—has rendered a statement that could enlighten and reconnect all peoples if only they could listen with their own cosmic awareness.  

    At the soul level, all human beings remain eternally linked as children of the Great Divine River King (God). That River God flows in the blood of His offspring. And that same River God flows in the rivers of the planet on which they find themselves too often segregated by ignorance of their own common being as sparks of the Divine.

    Instead of identifying with the perishable body and changeable mind that too often rule, the simple act of identifying with their own cosmic nature would allow individuals to experience the cosmic voice of their own soul. The simple poet named Langston Hughes has offered a useful template for viewing the world through a cosmic lens in his nearly perfect poem.

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  • Rabindranath Tagore’s “Light the Lamp of Thy Love”

    Image: Rabindranath Tagore – Portrait by William Rothenstein

    Rabindranath Tagore’s “Light the Lamp of Thy Love”

    Rabindranath Tagore’s poem “Light the Lamp of Thy Love” is a devotional lyric that expresses the speaker’s longing for self-realization. Through colorful imagery, the poem explores themes of transformation, redemption, and the transcendence of human limitation through spiritual awakening.

    Introduction and Text of “Light the Lamp of Thy Love”

    Rabindranath Tagore, a Nobel laureate poet and philosopher, often infused his works with spiritual depth and mysticism. His lyric “Light the Lamp of Thy Love” offers a prayerful plea for divine intervention, as the speaker implores a higher power to dispel darkness and replace it with enlightenment. 

    The poem’s structure follows a gathering movement from supplication to transformation, resulting in the profound realization of divine presence, also known as self-realization or God-union. Tagore employs vivid metaphors—lamps, light, and gold—to symbolize the process of spiritual purification. 

    The repetition of phrases reinforces the urgency of the speaker’s plea, while the invocation of touch underscores the immediacy of divine grace. The poem’s universal theme of seeking enlightenment resonates beyond religious confines, making it a poignant reflection on the human soul’s yearning for transcendence.

    Paramahansa Yogananda refashioned this poem into a chant that is performed at SRF meditation gatherings and ceremonies.  Immediately below the poem, there is a video of the SRF monks chanting the piece at one of SRF’s World Convocations.

    Light the Lamp of Thy Love

    In my house, with Thine own hands,
    Light the lamp of Thy love!
    Thy transmuting lamp entrancing,
    Wondrous are its rays.
    Change my darkness to Thy light, Lord!
    Change my darkness to Thy light.
    And my evil into good.
    Touch me but once and I will change,
    All my clay into Thy gold
    All the sense lamps that I did light
    Sooted into worries
    Sitting at the door of my soul,
    Light Thy resurrecting lamp!

    Commentary on “Light the Lamp of Thy Love”

    Rabindranath Tagore’s poem “Light the Lamp of Thy Love” serves a prayer for divine illumination or God-union (also known as self-realization), reflecting an intense spiritual longing. The speaker acknowledges human frailty and desires transformation through divine grace. Each movement of the poem builds upon the preceding one, deepening the speaker’s surrender to the divine will.

    First Movement: Invocation of Divine Light

    In my house, with Thine own hands,
    Light the lamp of Thy love!

    The speaker begins with a direct appeal to the divine, requesting illumination within his own “house,” a metaphor for the soul. The imagery of the divine hand lighting the lamp suggests an intimate and personal act of grace. 

    This scenario establishes the poem’s central theme of spiritual awakening as a force intervening in the speaker’s internal world. The use of the imperative conveys urgency as well as personal familiarity, emphasizing human dependency on divine intervention for enlightenment.  This evocative opening sets the tone for the poem’s progression from entreaty to transformation.

    Second Movement: Transformation through Divine Light

    Thy transmuting lamp entrancing,
    Wondrous are its rays.
    Change my darkness to Thy light, Lord!
    Change my darkness to Thy light.
    And my evil into good.

    In the second movement, the speaker acknowledges the power of divine enlightenment, describing it as “entrancing” and “wondrous.” The repetition of “Change my darkness to Thy light” underscores the urgency and necessity of divine transformation. Darkness symbolizes ignorance, sin, and suffering, while light represents wisdom, virtue, and divine grace. 

    The explicit plea to change evil into good reflects Tagore’s vision of spiritual evolution, wherein the divine presence purges human flaws.   This movement portrays transformation as both passive and active—the speaker submits to divine will while the divine force actively reshapes his essence. The imagery of light as a catalyst for moral and spiritual purification aligns with Tagore’s broader philosophical themes of unity between the self and the divine.

    Third Movement: Spiritual Alchemy

    Touch me but once and I will change,
    All my clay into Thy gold

    The speaker then expresses absolute faith in divine transformation, emphasizing the power of a single divine touch. The contrast between “clay” and “gold” serves as a metaphor for spiritual alchemy—earthly, flawed existence is refined into something pure and incorruptible. 

    This suggestion reflects the Upanishadic tenet that the soul has potential to merge with the divine.   The phrase “but once” highlights the immediacy and sufficiency of divine intervention, reinforcing the idea that enlightenment is not a gradual process but an instantaneous, transcendent experience, after conditions become aligned.

    Fourth Movement: Renunciation of Material Attachments

    All the sense lamps that I did light
    Sooted into worries
    Sitting at the door of my soul,
    Light Thy resurrecting lamp!

    In this final movement, the speaker reflects on past attempts to find light through worldly means, represented by “sense lamps.” These artificial lights, linked to sensory experiences, have only resulted in “worries,” suggesting that material pursuits lead to disillusionment. 

    The speaker, becoming aware that the Divine Reality is “sitting at the door of my soul,” finds himself in a precarious position, awaiting true illumination. The plea for the “resurrecting lamp” signifies the desire for rebirth through divine grace. 

    This conclusion emphasizes the contrast between self-induced, transient sources of light and the enduring illumination provided by the Divine. Tagore’s imagery addresses surrender and renewal, resulting in the speaker’s complete reliance on divine intervention for enlightenment.

    A Philosophy of Divine Love

    “Light the Lamp of Thy Love” encapsulates Tagore’s philosophy of divine love as the ultimate source of transformation. The poem progresses from invocation to surrender, illustrating the speaker’s deepening spiritual realization.   Tagore employs symbolic imagery—light, lamps, gold—to depict the process of transcendence, wherein the divine presence eradicates darkness and imparts purity. 

    The repetition of phrases reinforces the speaker’s desperation for enlightenment, while the shift from self-lit lamps to the resurrecting lamp signifies the futility of worldly pursuits in comparison to divine grace. 

    The interplay between passivity and divine action suggests that while human effort is insufficient for true transformation, surrender to divine will results in ultimate fulfillment.

    Tagore’s devotional lyric aligns with the Bhakti tradition, where longing for divine presence is central. However, its universal message extends beyond religious boundaries, addressing the fundamental human desire for meaning, clarity, and redemption.  The poem’s cyclical structure, resulting in divine illumination, parallels the spiritual journey from ignorance to wisdom. 

    By portraying the speaker’s progression from a seeker to one awaiting divine grace, Tagore underscores the idea that true enlightenment is not self-generated but received through divine compassion.  Ultimately, “Light the Lamp of Thy Love” serves as a meditation on the transformative power of divine love and its ability to guide the human soul toward transcendence.

    Image: Rabindranath Tagore – Portrait by Unknown Artist

  • Gerard Manley Hopkins

    Gerard Manley Hopkins – National Portrait Gallery, London

    Life Sketch of Gerard Manley Hopkins

    Gerard Manley Hopkins (1844–1889) was a poet of exceptional originality, with an innovative approach to language.  He remains one of English literature’s most enigmatic figures—a poet-priest whose work combines Victorian sensibilities with modernist experimentation.

    Introduction: Early Life and Family Background

    Though Gerard Manley Hopkins work was largely unpublished during his lifetime, the poet is now celebrated as one of the most significant poets of the Victorian era and a precursor to modernist poetry. 

    His life was marked by a profound tension between his religious vocation as a Jesuit priest and his artistic calling as a poet, a tension that shaped both his personal struggles and his creative achievements.

    Gerard Manley Hopkins was born on July 28, 1844, in Stratford, Essex (now part of Greater London), into a middle-class family with strong artistic and religious inclinations. He was the oldest of nine children born to Manley Hopkins and Catherine Smith Hopkins. 

    His father was a successful marine insurance adjuster, who also wrote poetry and published works such as A Philosopher’s Stone and Other Poems (1843) [1]. His mother Catherine was deeply religious and musically gifted, fostering an environment where intellectual and artistic pursuits were encouraged [2].

    The Hopkins household emphasized education and creativity. Gerard’s siblings also displayed artistic talents: his brother Arthur became an illustrator for Punch magazine, while another brother Everard pursued his calling to architecture [3]. The family’s Anglican faith played a central role in their lives; Gerard’s early exposure to religious devotion would later profoundly influence his poetry.

    Gerard Manley Hopkins – National Portrait Gallery, London

    Education at Highgate School

    In 1854, at the age of ten, Hopkins began attending Highgate School in London, where he excelled academically and demonstrated his early poetic talent. His school years were marked by a deep engagement with Romantic poetry, particularly the works of John Keats and Percy Bysshe Shelley. Keats’s lush imagery and musicality left a lasting impression on the young poet, as can be seem in some of his earliest compositions.

    While at Highgate, Hopkins also developed an interest in drawing and painting. He considered pursuing art as a career before ultimately deciding to focus on literature. While his early poems from this period reflect the Romantic tradition, they also hint at the originality that would later define his mature work [4].

    The Oxford Years: Intellectual Growth and Conversion

    In 1863, Hopkins entered Balliol College, Oxford, where he studied the Classics. Oxford in the mid-19th century was a hub of intellectual ferment, particularly regarding questions of faith and theology. 

    The Oxford Movement, led by figures such as John Henry Newman, sought to revive Catholic elements within Anglicanism [5]. This movement profoundly influenced Hopkins during his time at the university.

    At Balliol, Hopkins excelled academically and formed lasting friendships with notable contemporaries such as Robert Bridges (later Poet Laureate of England). Bridges would play a crucial role in preserving and publishing Hopkins’s poetry after his death. During this period, Hopkins continued writing poetry but also began engaging with questions of faith that would lead to a dramatic transformation of his life

    In 1866, under the influence of Newman’s writings and teachings, Hopkins converted to Roman Catholicism. This decision caused significant tension in his family, all of whom were devout Anglicans. However, for Hopkins, the conversion represented a profound spiritual awakening that would shape both his personal life and his artistic vision.

    Gerard Manley Hopkins – National Portrait Gallery, London

    Religious Vocation: Joining the Jesuit Order

    After graduating from Oxford with first-class honors in the Classics in 1867, Hopkins decided to pursue a religious vocation In 1868, he joined the Society of Jesus (the Jesuits), beginning his novitiate at Manresa House in Roehampton. As part of his training, he took vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience.

    Hopkins believed that his religious commitment required him to renounce personal ambition, including his aspirations as a poet. In an act of self-denial characteristic of his Jesuit discipline [3], he burned many of his early poems upon entering the order. For several years, he refrained from writing any poetry at all.

    During this pause from creative writing, Hopkins’s religious studies deepened his understanding of theology and philosophy. He studied at Stonyhurst College in Lancashire before moving to St. Beuno’s College in North Wales to study theology [6]. It was during this period that he began to reconcile his poetic gift with his spiritual calling.

    The Wreck of the Deutschland: A Return to Poetry

    In 1875, an event occurred that reignited Hopkins’ poetic creativity: the wreck of the German ship Deutschland off the coast of England. Among those who perished were five Franciscan nuns fleeing anti-Catholic persecution in Germany [1]. Deeply moved by their sacrifice and martyrdom, Hopkins composed The Wreck of the Deutschland, a long narrative poem that marked his return to writing.

    The poem is notable for its novel experimentation with language and form. It introduced what Hopkins called “sprung rhythm,” a metrical system based on stressed syllables rather than traditional foot-based metrics. Sprung rhythm allowed him greater flexibility in capturing natural speech patterns while maintaining musicality.

    Although The Wreck of the Deutschland was not published during Hopkins’s lifetime (it was deemed too unconventional), it signaled the beginning of his mature poetic phase. Over the next decade, he would compose some of his most celebrated and later anthologized works.

    Major Themes and Innovations

    Hopkins’s poetry is characterized by its vivid imagery, innovative use of language, and deep spiritual resonance. Central themes include the following:

    Nature

    Hopkins viewed nature as a manifestation of God’s glory—a concept he expressed through what he called “inscape,” or the unique essence of each created thing. Poems like “Pied Beauty” celebrate the variety and intricacy of nature:

    “Glory be to God for dappled things—
    For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;”

    Religion

    As a devout Jesuit priest, Hopkins often explored themes of faith, grace, and divine presence.  In “God’s Grandeur,” he reflects on humanity’s relationship with the Divine Reality (God):  “The world is charged with the grandeur of God.” 

    Human Struggle

    Hopkins did not shy away from depicting despair and inner turmoil. His so-called “terrible sonnets,” written during periods of depression in Dublin later in life (“No Worst There Is None” and “I Wake And Feel The Fell Of Dark”), are raw expressions of spiritual desolation.

    Language

    Hopkins’s creative inventiveness set him apart from other Victorian poets. He employed compound words (“dapple-dawn-drawn”), alliteration (“kingdom of daylight’s dauphin”), and unconventional syntax to create striking effects.  It might be noted that E. E. Cummings’ innovation remains a 20th century parallel to that of Father Hopkins 19th century foray into stylizing novelty.

    Academic Career in Dublin

    In 1884, after years serving as a parish priest in England and Scotland (often under challenging conditions), Hopkins was appointed Professor of Greek Literature at University College Dublin. 

    While teaching brought him some satisfaction intellectually, he still continued to struggled with feelings of isolation as an Englishman residing and working in Ireland during a time of political upheaval.

    Gerard Manley Hopkins – National Portrait Gallery, London

    Death and Legacy

    Father Hopkins’ final years were marked by declining health and bouts of depression—what he referred to as “the long dark night.” Despite these challenges, he continued writing poetry until shortly before his death.

    Father Hopkins died on June 8, 1889, at the age of 44 from typhoid fever in Dublin. At the time of his death, none of his major poems had been published; they existed only in manuscript form.

    It was not until 1918—nearly three decades after his death—that Robert Bridges edited and published  the collection simply titled Poems, bringing Hopkins’ work to public attention for the first time. The collection received mixed reviews initially but gained increasing recognition over time.

    By the mid-20th century, critics such as F.R. Leavis had established Hopkins as one of the most original voices in English poetry. His innovative techniques anticipated modernist trends seen later in poets like T.S. Eliot, Dylan Thomas, and E. E. Cummings.

    Father Gerard Manley Hopkins remains one of English literature’s most enigmatic figures—a poet-priest whose work brought together certain Victorian sensibilities with modernist experimentation. His legacy rests not only in his technical innovations but also in his ability to convey profound spiritual truths through language that continues to resonate with readers today.

    Sources

    [1]  Gerard Manley Hopkins. Poems. Edited by Robert Bridges. Oxford University Press. 1918.

    [2]  Gerard Manley Hopkins. Poems and Prose. Edited by W. H. Gardner. Penguin Classics. 1953.

    [3]  Eleanor Ruggles. Gerard Manley Hopkins: A Life. New York: W.W. Norton & Co. 1944.

    [4]  Norman H. Mackenzie. A Reader’s Guide to Gerard Manley Hopkins. Cornell U P. 1981.

    [5] John Cowie Reid.  “Gerard Manley Hopkins.” Encyclopaedia Britannica. Accessed January 1, 2026.

    [6] Curators. “Gerard Manley Hopkins.” Poetry Foundation.  Accessed January 1, 2026.

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    Poem Commentaries

    • “God’s Grandeur” Father Gerard Manley Hopkins’ motivation to imitate Spirit (God) prompts him to craft his poems in forms, as Spirit creates entities in forms—from rocks to animals to plants to the human body.
    • “Pied Beauty” Gerard Manley Hopkins’ “Pied Beauty” is an eleven-line curtal sonnet dedicated to honoring and praising God for the special beauty of His creation.  Father Hopkins coined the term “curtal” to label his eleven-line sonnets.
    • “The Habit of Perfection”  The title “The Habit of Perfection” of Gerard Manley Hopkins’ poem features a pun on the term “habit.” As a monk, the poet had accepted the garb of the monastic, sometimes called a habit

    The Terrible Sonnets

    •  “To seem the stranger lies my lot, my life” Written with the same intensity that characterizes Hopkins’ work, the poem dramatizes exile as both an external condition and an inward trial.
    • “I wake and feel the fell of dark, not day” The speaker Gerard Manley Hopkins’ “I wake and feel the fell of dark, not day” is confronting spiritual desolation, interior darkness, and the sense of abandonment by God. 
    • “No worst, there is none.  Pitched past pitch of grief” The third in the group of sonnets widely known as “the terrible sonnets, this one,“No worst, there is none. Pitched past pitch of grief,” presents a speaker experiencing grief so intense that it feels beyond limit or measure.
    • “Not, I’ll not, carrion comfort, Despair, not feast on thee” Father Hopkins’ “Not, I’ll not, carrion comfort, Despair, not feast on thee” dramatizes an intense spiritual struggle in which the speaker resists despair while enduring profound inner torment. 
    • “Patience, hard thing! the hard thing but to pray” This terrible sonnet explores searchingly the nature of  spiritual endurance. The speaker is focusing on patience not as a soft virtue but as a challenging and difficult discipline, which oftentimes scars the pride, while exhausting the will. 
    • “My own heart let me more have pity on; let” The speaker in this sonnet examines his inward struggle, through which he has learned mercy toward the self (soul) while undergoing heavy, sustained spiritual pressure.  My personal issue with this pressure assures me that Father Hopkins well understood its vicissitudes as well as its rewards.

  • Original Song: “Twixt Good and Evil” and Prose Commentary 

    Image: Created by Grok

    Original Song: “Twixt Good and Evil” and Prose Commentary 

    I chose the quotation from Isaiah because it demonstrates the omnipotence and omnipresence of the Almighty Creator.  Some religionists, especially Christian, argue that God is all good and therefore could not have created evil.  But such a claim limits God’s power and ability—an odd thing to do since they claim that God is omnipotent and omnipresent!

    Twixt Good and Evil

    “I form the light, and create darkness: I make peace, and create evil: I the Lord do all these things.”    —Isaiah 45:7

    Chorus

    In the fight twixt good and evil
    Good will always win;
    For God created the devil
    Just tempt us all to sin.
    God doesn’t cause us to bear sorrow;
    He tries to lead us to His light,
    And His Word guides our tomorrow
    If we learn to read It right.

    First Verse 

    Good morning, Satan!
    Are you doing OK?
    What kinds of nasty
    You going to throw at me today?
    Will my daughter get cancer?
    Will my son fall off his bike?
    Will my husband crash his truck?
    Will my dog lie down and die?

    Second Verse

    Good morning, Devil!
    Are you doing just fine?
    How will you try to tempt me
    To cross that boundary line?
    Will you make me think I’m sexy?
    Will you make me want to flirt?
    Will you take me to a place
    I’d never go without your dirt?

    Third Verse

    Good morning, Lucifer!
    How’s it going, Old Dude?
    What you got in store for me today—
    What kind of rude and crude?
    Will you shine your light on sorrow?
    Will you tempt me to believe
    I’ll be so good tomorrow
    That today I can misbehave?

    Fourth Verse

    Good morning, Maya!
    Of all the things in the fold
    Which one will grab my thoughts today
    To divert me from my goal?
    Will I seize upon another’s mote
    Though there’s one in my own eye?
    Will I hurt anyone whose handy?
    Or will I just sit, sigh, and cry?

    Chorus

    In the fight twixt good and evil
    Good will always win;
    For God created the devil
    Just tempt us all to sin.
    God doesn’t cause us to bear sorrow;
    He tries to lead us to His light,
    And His Word guides our tomorrow
    If we learn to read It right.

    To listen to the recorded version, please visit “Twixt Good and Evil” on soundcloud.

    Commentary on “Twixt Good and Evil”

    Epigram:  “I form the light, and create darkness: I make peace, and create evil: I the Lord do all these things.”    —Isaiah 45:7

    I chose this quotation from Isaiah because it demonstrates the omnipotence and omnipresence of the Almighty Creator.  Some religionists, especially Christian, argue that God is all good and therefore could not have created evil.  

    But such a claim limits God’s power and ability and at the same time introduces a second force into being.  Because there can be no second force, only God can be responsible for all that exists, including evil.  In the Isaiah quotation, God is speaking and He clearly says, “I . . . create evil.”

    At first, such a claim may seem paradoxical, but just because God creates evil does not make God evil: it makes Him all powerful, the very quality that Christians believe God to possess.

    So with that fact established, the next question is why did/does God create/allow evil?  And the answer is so that a physical creation can exist.  Without pairs of opposites, there can be so creation: forces rub against forces; conflict pits good and evil against each other.

    We cannot recognize a quality unless we have something to which we can  compare or contrast it.  Image that only good things had happened to you in your life.  How would you know that only good things had happened if you had never experienced the less than good or the bad?  

    Humanity is faced with these forces in order to learn and to evolve.  According to Paramahansa Yogananda and other great spiritual leaders, the only purpose of life is to unite the soul with the Over-Soul or God.  In order to do that, each human being has to work out its karma, its issues that lead it to believe it is nothing more than a bag of bone and flesh.  

    Each human being must learn that he or she is essentially a soul that has a physical body.  That soul is already perfect but because it lost its divine awareness by being born in a physical encasement, it has to relearn to be divine.

    Now, why did God make such a plan, such an existence?  Why not just let us  keep our divine status and not have to go through incarnations that may take many millennia?  Only God knows the answer to that question.  Offering one possible explanation, Paramahansa Yogananda contends that creation is God’s lila or play, and He made for his own enjoyment.  

    Because that explanation may not satisfy, the following exchange between Sri Yukteswar, the guru of Paramahansa Yogananda, and a student suggests additional reasoning:

    “Why did God ever join soul and body?” a class student asked one evening. “What was His purpose in setting into initial motion this evolutionary drama of creation?” Countless other men have posed such questions; philosophers have sought, in vain, fully to answer them.

    “Leave a few mysteries to explore in Eternity,” Sri Yukteswar used to say with a smile. “How could man’s limited reasoning powers comprehend the inconceivable motives of the Uncreated Absolute? T

    he rational faculty in man, tethered by the cause-effect principle of the phenomenal world, is baffled before the enigma of God, the Beginningless, the Uncaused. Nevertheless, though man’s reason cannot fathom the riddles of creation, every mystery will ultimately be solved for the devotee by God Himself.” (my emphasis added)

    The opening quotation, therefore, establishes the spiritual nature of the song: a monotheistic worldview in which nothing—light or darkness, peace or evil—exists outside God’s sovereignty.

    By invoking Isaiah 45:7, I preempt the simplistic dualism: evil is not an equal rival to God but a force that God Himself created to serve a divine purpose. This contention prepares the listener/reader to understand temptation and suffering not as evidence of God’s absence, but as part of a moral testing ground in which human choice matters.

    Thus, although the singer/speaker has undergone all of these tests foisted by Satan, the Devil, Lucifer, and Maya—all of which are simply different names for the same force—she seems to be implying that she is transcending them because she realizes that God only created these forces to tempt his children. 

    She is also implying that she has learned to read God’s word correctly and now she understands that by not allowing that evil force to dominate her she will no longer suffer.

    Chorus: “In the fight twixt good and evil”

    In the fight twixt good and evil
    Good will always win;
    For God created the devil
    Just tempt us all to sin.
    God doesn’t cause us to bear sorrow;
    He tries to lead us to His light,
    And His Word guides our tomorrow
    If we learn to read It right.


    The chorus opens the song/poem with its theme, which focuses on the battle between good and evil in the world of humankind. It makes the explicit claim that “good will always win,” and then it explains that the devil is just a tempter—not a separate force— because God Himself “created the devil.” 

    That “God created the devil / Just to tempt us all to sin” reflects the exact message of the Isaiah quotation. God made the devil to introduce temptation in our lives, but God allows it, and He did not create temptation to make us suffer, at least, not eternally. 

    We  know of God’s intention because God has offered a guide in written scripture, which all religions and spiritual faiths possess.  But it is interpreting those pages of guidance that confounds us and keep us in darkness.  God wants to lead us to light, and learning to interpret his Word correctly and effectively can lead us there.

    First Verse: “Good morning, Satan!”

    Good morning, Satan!
    Are you doing OK?
    What kinds of nasty
    You going to throw at me today?
    Will my daughter get cancer?
    Will my son fall off his bike?
    Will my husband crash his truck?
    Will my dog lie down and die?


    The singer/speaker addresses Satan directly, asking quite conversationally how he’s doing?  Assuming that he is doing “OK.”  Then she pitches a series of questions at him.  These question involve “nasty” events that no one wants to experience:  a daughter getting cancer, an son falling off his bike, a husband crashing his truck, a dog dying.

    The answer to each of these questions is yes: Satan will throw all of these things at me eventually.  And I personally have experienced every one of them.  So addressing Satan in such a friendly way must be understood a high sarcasm. 

    Satan will always remain the adversary, but showing him that I can take him lightly lessens his power over me.  Besides, I have already told you in the chorus that I know the score on these issues.  Satan does not hold the power; God does.

    Second Verse:  “Good morning, Devil!”

    Good morning, Devil!
    Are you doing just fine?
    How will you try to tempt me
    To cross that boundary line?
    Will you make me think I’m sexy?
    Will you make me want to flirt?
    Will you take me to a place
    I’d never go without your dirt?

    Addressing Devil with the same tone expressed when she addressed Satan, the singer/speaker assumes Devil is “doing just fine.”  Again, with a series of questions:  how are you going to temp the today?  will you use sex and promiscuity to make me do things that otherwise I would deplore?  

    Because vanity and sex lead to so much mischief and depravity in the world, one would likely be a consummate prevaricator to deny having been caught up in such “dirt.”  That’s all the personal confession and testimony I will offer for this one. But obviously, again, the from Devil, the answer is “Yep, I’ll get you, my Pretty, and you little dog, too!”

    Third Verse:  “Good morning, Lucifer!”

    Good morning, Lucifer!
    How’s it going, Old Dude?
    What you got in store for me today—
    What kind of rude and crude?
    Will you shine your light on sorrow?
    Will you tempt me to believe
    I’ll be so good tomorrow
    That today I can misbehave?

    Addressing the devil/satan in his light-bearer form, Lucifer, the singer/speaker makes no assumption but simply asks how things are going for the “Old Dude. Then again wants to know that the Light-Bearer has “in store” for her.”  She knows that whatever it is it will likely be “rude and crude.”  She has learned about this being’s ways in earlier verses.

    She wonders if Lucifer will put a spotlight on self-pity and thus allow her to engage in sorrowful feelings.  Then abruptly, she shifts to wondering if he will encourage her think she will behave tomorrow so well that today she can engage in all manner of  debauchery.

    This verse captures the moral danger of self-bargaining and the illusion of future repentance as permission for present wrongdoing.

    Fourth Verse:

    Good morning, Maya!
    Of all the things in the fold
    Which one will grab my thoughts today
    To divert me from my goal?
    Will I seize upon another’s mote
    Though there’s one in my own eye?
    Will I hurt anyone whose handy?
    Or will I just sit, sigh, and cry?


    In this final verse, I address the evil one as Maya, which means delusion, and is the Hindu concept for Satan/Devil/Lucifer.  Maya seems less judgmental and harsh than the Christians concepts, although the end result of “delusion” is the same as the end result of sin.  It is delusion that causes us to “misbehave” and therefore “suffer.”  

    The satanic, evil, mayic force all steer the human being to engage in sense gratification, and such activities divert the person from seeking Divine Awareness, which is the goal of life, according to Paramahansa Yogananda.

    When I reference the “mote” and the “beam,” I am, of course, echoing Christ’s teaching on judgment, offering that as the first possible wrong thing I might do today.  Then again I continue questions as I wonder what the magic Satan/Maya will do today to “divert me from my goal.” 

    I might engage in activities that hurt people, or maybe I will just sit, think useless, thought, become maudlin and then “cry.”  The negativity supports the wretched influences that has been on display in the entire song/poem.  

    Chorus:  “In the fight twixt good and evil”

    In the fight twixt good and evil
    Good will always win;
    For God created the devil
    Just tempt us all to sin.
    God doesn’t cause us to bear sorrow;
    He tries to lead us to His light,
    And His Word guides our tomorrow
    If we learn to read It right.

    What saves the whole mess from languishing in pool of sorrowful dreck is the chorus, which is repeated at the end.  Despite the battle each human being has to face each day, eventually according to each person’s karma “good will always win.”

  • Original Song:  “River Spirit” and Prose Commentary

    Image: “Whitewater River Songs – Album Cover” Photo by Ron W. G.

    Original Song:  “River Spirit” and Prose Commentary

    I wrote “River Spirit” circa 1980 then made a homemade recording of it around 20 around 2004.  In 2023, my husband Ron—whom I call “My Sweet Ron”—created the video featuring his own photos and videos selections along with the song.  

    Introduction to and Lyric of “River Spirit”

    The lyric of “River Spirit” plays out in four stanzas of tercets, with one couplet appearing as the second stanza.  It sports no traditional rime-scheme but does offer one set of perfect rime in “hand/sand” in the second and third lines.  Other slant—or more accurately ghost rimes—appear in “water/before” in the couplet.

    Ghost rimes also make an appearance with “bed/edge” and “changes/images.”  The time frame begins in spring, as the singer begins to report what she sees along the river after the cold hard season of winter has given way to the warmth of spring.

    The theme of the song is the mystery the singer feels at seeing that the landscape along the river has been radically transformed from what she had observed during the summer before this transforming winter had its sway.  The singer poses questions about how the trees got uprooted and the path along the river has shifted, as even the stones are taking on new patterns.

    The singer then announces what she had thought to be the agent of the transformations; however, she is ultimately revealing—in the title—that what she “guessed” back in the day, she now knows to be the work of the Divine Reality, the “River Spirit”—or God (see “Names for the Ineffable God”).

    (Please note:  Dr. Samuel Johnson introduced the form “rhyme” into English in the 18th century, mistakenly thinking that the term was a Greek derivative of “rythmos.”  Thus “rhyme” is an etymological error. For my explanation for using only the original form “rime,” please see “Rime vs Rhyme: Dr. Samuel Johnson’s Error.”)

    River Spirit

    Every spring along the Whitewater River
    I saw that some mysterious hand
    Had rearranged the rocks and sand.

    The path I followed the summer before
    Was slipping off into the water.
    I could not figure out whose force
    Could drive that water among the reeds
    & shift the river in its bed

    Whose muscles uprooted those trees?
    Whose fingers patterned those stones
    Along the edge?  

    I guessed only that the spring thaw
    Conjured up the changes
    In those sleeping river images.

    Commentary on “River Spirit”

    The time frame is spring, as the singer begins to muse on what she observes along the river after the cold, hard season of winter has given way to the warmth of spring.  Her earlier guess about that riverbank rearrangement has now become an article of faith, and she proclaims in the title the answer to her earlier inquiry.

    First Movement:  The Hand of Mystery

    Every spring along the Whitewater River
    I saw that some mysterious hand
    Had rearranged the rocks and sand.

    The singing narrator launches right into her story by making the claim that she observed a change in the pattern of stones and sand along the river’s edge, and she make this observation “every spring.”  She had thus a recollection of having experiences these changes many times.

    She colorfully attributes those rearrangements to “some mysterious hand.”  At this point, it may sound a bit odd that a river walker would think a hand had been involved in what went on along the riverbank in her absence.

    Second Movement:  River Features Shifting

    The path I followed the summer before
    Was slipping off into the water.

    After setting the stage for mystery and rearrangement of river features, the singer offers a very specific change.  She had walk along a path during the preceding summer, and now that path simply veered off into the river water.  Such a change would likely be quite jarring for the hiker, who would necessarily be obliged to alter her walking pattern.

    Third Movement:  Puzzling over the Changes 

    I could not figure out whose force
    Could drive that water among the reeds
    & shift the river in its bed

    The singer now inserts her puzzlement.  She becomes curious as to how such changes could have occurred.  She sees that the river has now shifted its course, plunging into the reeds along the bank.

    The mere fact of the river shifting “in its bed” seems Herculean in prospect.  The river is such a large body of moving water that the notion of it shifting surely requires a force that strikes the singer an unimaginable at this point.

    Fourth Movement:  Who Made Those Changes?

    Whose muscles uprooted those trees?
    Whose fingers patterned those stones
    Along the edge?  

    The singer then again adds more specificity to her inquiry.  She sees that trees have been “uprooted,” and she observes that the stones along the river’s edge have been rearranged in a different pattern from the summer before.

    Again, she colorfully attributes those “changes” to a seemingly human agency of “muscles” and “fingers.”  But behind those specific agents must lie some metaphysical force that at this point the singer cannot name, cannot even offer a guess about.

    Fifth Movement:  Guessing at the Conjuring

    I guessed only that the spring thaw
    Conjured up the changes
    In those sleeping river images.

    Now the singer offers what she thought to be an answer to her inquiry: Well, it was likely that not any hands, muscles, or fingers enforced all of these changes; it was simply the process of thawing out from the ice during the warming movements brought on by spring.

    Sure, that’s it: the spring movements of thawing influenced those inert river features to alter themselves into differing patterns from the summer before.  What else could it be?  But the singer is understating what she really believes now.  She “guessed” about the “spring thaw”—but that was then, this is now.

    Thus the singer through anthropomorphic images of hands, muscles, fingers has proclaimed that a humanlike power has, in fact, mades these changes.  Not an actual human being on its own however.  But some power that retains in its Being the image of the human form, power,  and ingenuity.

    Simply, the title of the lyric has already stated what the singer pretends to guess about as she unfurls the song:  God (as the “River Spirit”) has performed His magic on these “sleeping river images.” God has “conjured up” those alterations in those river images as they moved from a frozen, winter sleep to vital spring time awakening.

  • Original Song:  “Astral Mother” with Prose Commentary

    Image: Mommy and Me – Photo by Ron W. G.

    Original Song:  “Astral Mother” with Prose Commentary

    This song is dedicated to my beautiful mother, Helen Richardson, whose soul left the physical planet Earth at the age of 58 and now resides in the astral world.  By faith and deep love, I visit her there from time to time.

    Introduction with Text of “Astral Mother”

    My original song, “Astral Mother,” plays out in three verse-movements and two chorus-movements.  A traditional verse is a unified set of lines—often four but through innovation the number is not consistent.

    Thus, a verse-movement may be any number of lines or stanzas because the emphasis in on the theme of the movement.  A movement depends upon theme rather than number of lines or stanzas.

    On the astral plane, souls have shed their bodies of chemicals and dust and reside in bodies of light.  Although the physical body is also made fundamentally of light, the astral body is perceived as light more easily than the “mud” covering the soul on the earthly plane.

    After visiting my mother on the astral plane, I bring back images, ideas, and thoughts that I dedicate to her in poems and songs.  The text of the song follows, and you are welcome to listen to the song on SoundCloud.

    Astral Mother

    In memoriam:
    Helen Richardson
    June 27, 1923 — September 5, 1981

    for your beautiful soul

    You are waiting now . . .
    A bright star light
    In the astral world

    You have shed the mud
    That covers the soul
    On the earthly plane . . . —

    Where you were my mother, and I was your child
    You were my mother, and I was your child . . . 

    You are watching for me . . .
    To catch my beam
    In the astral world

    We will live again
    The love we lived
    On the earthly plane . . . —

    Where you were my mother, and I was your child
    You were my mother, and I was your child . . .

    We will understand the Spirit-made plan . . .
    That kept us a while . . .
    In this earthly world . . . —

    Where you were my mother, and I was your child
    You were my mother, and I was your child . . .

    O, my Divine Mother, make me Thy Divine Child!
    O, my Divine Mother, make me Thy Divine Child!

    Commentary on “Astral Mother”

    A daughter addresses her mother who has departed the earth and now resides in the astral world.  Through faith and divine guidance, the daughter visits the mother and creates a tribute to her mother’s beautiful soul of light

    First Verse-Movement:  Living as Light in the Astral World

    You are waiting now . . .
    A bright star light
    In the astral world

    You have shed the mud
    That covers the soul
    On the earthly plane . . . —

    From the earthly plane of existence, the singer/narrator is addressing a loved one who is residing on the astral plane of existence.  

    The soul of the departed loved one is now existing in her astral/causal bodies—where the soul continues without its physical encasement.  Paramahansa Yogananda explains this phenomenon:

    astral body. Man’s subtle body of light, prana or lifetrons; the second of three sheaths that successively encase the soul: the causal body (q.v.), the astral body, and the physical body. The powers of the astral body enliven the physical body, much as electricity illumines a bulb. 

    The astral body has nineteen elements: intelligence, ego, feeling, mind (sense consciousness); five instruments of knowledge (the sensory powers within the physical organs of sight, hearing, smell, taste, and touch); five instruments of action (the executive powers in the physical instruments of procreation, excretion, speech, locomotion, and the exercise of manual skill); and five instruments of life force that perform the functions of circulation, metabolization, assimilation, crystallization, and elimination.

    The singer/narrator affirms that her loved one—her belovèd mother—is now “waiting” in her body of light as it exists on the astral plane. The singer/narrator in the second part of the movement refers to the physical body as “mud” which the astral mother has now “shed.”  The physical body encases the soul on the earthly plane of existence.

    The physical body may be metaphorically referred to as “mud” after the Biblical description of the human body:

    In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread, till thou return unto the ground; for out of it wast thou taken: for dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return. (KJV Genesis 3:19)

    But after the soul leaves that physical encasement, it continues its existence in the two other bodies—astral and causal—on the astral plane where it is perceived only as light. Thus, the daughter/speaker has perceived her mother as a body of light, which she designates metaphorically as “a bright star light.”

    Second Verse-Movement:  Waiting to Spot a Familiar Dot of Light

    You are watching for me . . .
    To catch my beam
    In the astral world

    We will live again
    The love we lived
    On the earthly plane . . . —

    The singer/narrator then affirms that the astral mother is waiting for her daughter to join her on the astral plane.  The daughter will become a “beam” of light after she leaves her own physical encasement, entering the “astral world.”

    The singer/narrator then affirms that the mother and daughter will experience that same love that they shared when they were both on the earth together.   The “lived” love and they continue to live that love, but after they both are in the same level of existence, they are likely to recognize and have a deeper level of awareness of that love.

    Third Verse-Movement:  Understanding and Appreciating Love and Light

    We will understand the Spirit-made plan . . .
    That kept us a while . . .
    In this earthly world . . . —

    The singer/narrator finally affirms that after the mother and daughter are reunited, for however briefly that reunion might exist, they will understand more about the divine plan that God has for them.

    They were both maintained on the earth planet for while; they no doubt had questions about the meaning of life and all of its vicissitudes.  The singer/narrator predicts that after entering the astral plane, both she and her mother will understand more about meaning and purpose then they had before.

    Experience is great teacher; and God puts His children in positions from which they may learn what they need in order to meet their karmic demands. The singer/narrator holds great faith that she and her mother on the path that leads to the ultimate enlightenment of union with the Divine.

    Chorus-Movement 1:  A Simple Statement of Fact

    Where you were my mother, and I was your child
    You were my mother, and I was your child . . .

    In the first chorus, the singer/narrator simply states the fact that the addressee in the song was the singer’s mother, and the singer was the child of the mother.   On the earth plane, they were mother and daughter.

    The simplicity of the statement may be misleading.  This simple fact is, however, very important.  On the earth plane, they were mother and daughter, but on the astral plane they are only two individual souls that are children of the One Father-Mother-God.

    The mother/daughter relationship on earth is likely quite a different one from that relationship as two individual souls on the astral plane.  Despite that obvious fact, the important fact to remember is that love exists between the two; it existed on earth and it will exist in the astral world.

    Chorus-Movement 2:  A Prayer-Chant to the Divine Mother

    O, my Divine Mother, make me Thy Divine Child!
    O, my Divine Mother, make me Thy Divine Child!

    The momentousness of the shift from the earth relationship of mother/daughter to Divine Mother/Divine Child cannot be overstated.  

    By ending with a chant-like prayer, the singer/narrator affirms that through the love relationship between earth mother and daughter, she has come to understand that both mother and daughter are children of the Divine Reality (God).

    And the singer/narrator then supplicates to God as Divine Mother to help her realize her soul as that “Divine Child” that she is.  The same supplication is offered on behalf of the astral mother, whom the singer/narrator has been addressing.

    Both former earth mother and earth daughter are children of the Divine, and they both must one day come to realize that relationship to the Divine—and the singer/narrator prays for that to happen.