Christ the Soldier

Another one based on Jesus Through Medieval Eyes, though I take this in a little different direction, a Soldier instead of a Knight:

The strife is o'er, the battle done;

our victor weeps for all he's won

who suffer still beneath the sun. Lord, have mercy!



Lord, have mercy!

Christ, have mercy!

Lord, have mercy!



Bravely he triumphed in our wars,

his glory brighter than the stars.

Yet he will ever bear the scars of his mercy.



All you embattled, come to him;

beneath his banner's shadow dim

respite for weary hearts and limbs.  Feel his mercy.



For he knows well your struggles here;

he feels your anguish and your fear.

Through all your pain, he still draws near in his mercy.



Soldiers, we follow in his steps,

loyal until our dying breath.

Our only enemy is death. Lord, have mercy!



And as we battle on once more,

let us remember Christ our Lord,

who triumphs yet.  The strife is o'er in his mercy.

Knight illustration from the Westminster Psalter, Westminster, second quarter of the 13th century; BL Royal MS 2.A.xxii, f. 220r.

King

The king shall come when morning dawns,
a barefoot king uncrowned.
With all his pomp and glory gone,
he walks the dusty ground.

We wanted triumph over all,
a mighty king and strong!
But he is small as seeds are small;
his patience, though, is long.

A king to judge the wicked ones,
to vindicate the good:
He takes the evil we have done
and drowns it in his blood.

A king to conquer every foe—
his enemy is death!
And where he plants his flag, it grows!
Its base has pierced his breast.

Then, with the world beneath his feet
and when all heads are bowed,
he takes his lordship of all things
and gives it up to God.

The king shall come confound our ways,
his lasting peace to bring.
Lift hands and voices high in praise
of Christ, the barefoot king!

Christ in Majesty with the symbols of the Evangelists, stone relief, south portal, Benedictine monastery at Innichen, South Tyrol By ich – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=2905170

On the Ground

Jesus said to his disciples:
“When the Son of Man comes in his glory,
and all the angels with him,
he will sit upon his glorious throne,
and all the nations will be assembled before him.
And he will separate them one from another,
as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats.
He will place the sheep on his right and the goats on his left.”
Matthew 25:31-46

How shall I see the Son of Man
descending on the clouds
if seeing him has not begun
down here amid the crowds?

If eye's not seen and ear's not heard
his voice from day to day,
how can I hear the living Word
or see what he will say?

Good Shepherd, touch my ears to hear—
O, heal me if you will—
your quiet voice through loudest fears,
for you are speaking still.

Give me a spark to light my lamp:
Let my blind eyes have sight
to search for you here where I stand—
or make my darkness bright.

Give me the courgae that I need
to seek where you are found,
to shelter you, to clothe and feed
and serve you on the ground.

To love you here and now, my Lord,
with love you first have giv'n,
to see your glory shining forth
on earth as 'tis in heav'n.

Tympan central du Portail Royal de la cathédrale de Chartres: Christ en gloire dans une mandorle. By Vassil – Own work, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=6349219

Road

Lord, let my soul be in your hands
that hold the caverns of the earth,
that cradle seas and skies and lands.
Oh, cradle me as I go forth.

The road I'm on is dark and long
and leads me through the shadow vale—
but still a line across your palm.
Oh, bring me where the shadows pale.

I stumble, Lord.  I fail and fall.
I lie down on the ground and weep.
Give strength to get up after all,
grace deeper than despair is deep.

And mercy, Lord, above all else,
beyond forgiveness' settled debts.
Not for my sins, but for myself, 
grant mercy's ever gentle breath.

That when this road has found its end
beyond all valleys, flats, and peaks,
I may be still within your hand,
found there before the face I seek.

U.S. Route 95 in Churchill County, Nevada, is an example of a typical two-lane, bi-directional road found throughout the rural areas of the United States that are designed for light traffic. By Famartin – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=39452786

Perfect

You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, love your enemies, and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your heavenly Father, for he makes his sun rise on the bad and the good, and causes rain to fall on the just and the unjust. For if you love those who love you, what recompense will you have? Do not the tax collectors do the same? And if you greet your brothers only, what is unusual about that? Do not the pagans do the same? So be perfect, just as your heavenly Father is perfect.
Matthew 5:43-48

God, how shall I be perfect
as your perfection calls
whose light strikes mead and desert,
who makes the rain to fall?

To love who sins against me,
who wounds me, then to bless,
as you have loved your enemies,
as you have loved myself?

Can anyone fulfill this?
For who can be like God?
You, you alone can do it—
unless you touch our hearts.

Unless you heal that hardness
that turns all hope to fear,
unless in love you pardon us
and touch our eyes and ears.

Have mercy on my blindness,
though you are God Who Sees,
and in your loving kindness
have mercy, too, on me.

And let me, too, have mercy;
let me hear those who call.
Your rain falls on the thirsting;
your light shines on us all.

Rain near the village Lunde, The north of Funen, Denmark by Malene Thyssen, http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/User:Malene CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=276654

Buried

Then the one who had received the one talent came forward and said,
‘Master, I knew you were a demanding person,
harvesting where you did not plant
and gathering where you did not scatter;
so out of fear I went off and buried your talent in the ground.
Here it is back.’
Matthew 25:14-30

Give me the courage now, O Lord,
before you come, before that day,
to dig up what in fear I hoard
and scatter it along my way.

To drag my coins into the light,
to dig up all my buried gold,
before you come, a thief at night:
Give me the courage to be bold,

to take the little that I have
and not to bury but to plant—
to share what I would rather save
and let it fall from open hands.

And if it all should go from me,
if nothing to my hand returns,
then am I in good company,
for you came here with nothing first.

But let it be a mustard seed
that you have planted in my soul:
Oh, let it grow and let it spread
to something better far than gold.

And what I harvest, let me sow
that others may yet gather more,
and let your bounty grow and grow
that all may feast with you, O Lord.

The Parable of the Talents, depicted by artist Andrei Mironov. Oil on canvas, 2013 By Андрей Николаевич Миронов (A.N. Mironov) – Own work, Andrey Mironov See also ticket:2015070410013036http://artmiro.ru/photo/religija_zhanrovaja_kartina/pritcha_o_talantakh/4-0-398, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=30528194

The Lover

My love is mine and I am his
who kneels to bathe my feet,
who stoops with heaven in his kiss,
and oh, his kiss is sweet.

I am my love's and he is mine,
for he has given all
to let his love about me twine
when in the dark I fall.

There where the sun has turned away
and gone are all the stars,
my only light is in his gaze,
my only hope his arms.

And so I cling about his heart;
he sets me like a seal
upon his breast, upon his arm,
and clings to me as well.

Thuswise, until the morning comes,
he is my heart itself,
my courage 'til the break of dawn,
my comfort and my rest.

Then let that darkness fall again,
a veil upon the world;
within his arms, my refuge then,
ever shall I lie curled.

Józef Mehoffer – Serce Jezusa 1930 By Józef Mehoffer – http://www.polswissart.pl, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=126863843

Sparks

We live in one unending night
where thieves and brigands roam,
yet do we walk in endless light
whereby we see our home

and kindle from its hearth a flame
to guide us through the dark.
We take our measure and our aim
by that undying spark.

But staring ever at the light,
our vision blurs and swims
'til we see colors in the night,
and in all faces, him.

A weary world we see renewed,
redemption born of scars,
a thief who comes to do us good,
the night aswarm with stars

where every spark is, too, a seam
as earth and heaven touch,
and pouring through each tiny gleam
the kingdom come of love.

O Christ, feed all our little flames
until your sun shall rise.
Give us the eyes to see your day
in lanterns lifted high.

15th-century candle lantern from Germany, perforated metal By Wolfgang Sauber – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=12738703

The Judge

Come, O Lord; come quickly:
Tear the skies apart.
Shadows here lie thickly:
Drive away the dark.
Come in all your glory;
come ascend your throne.
Finish now the story
whose end is yours alone.

Come, O Lord, with judgment:
Come to set things right.
Bring at last your justice;
end oppression's might.
Come and show us clearly
where we must atone.
Make your wounds a mirror
of all we've done and known.

Come, O Lord, with mercy:
Let its rivers run
through our desert thristing,
gleaming as the sun.
Let our barrens blossom
as once Eden bloomed.
Come, restore your garden,
and oh, come soon!  Come soon!

Day of Judgment By Gherardo Starnina – The Yorck Project (2002) 10.000 Meisterwerke der Malerei (DVD-ROM), distributed by DIRECTMEDIA Publishing GmbH. ISBN: 3936122202., Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=2978136

The Foolish Virgin’s Song

At midnight, there was a cry,
‘Behold, the bridegroom! Come out to meet him!’
Then all those virgins got up and trimmed their lamps.
The foolish ones said to the wise,
‘Give us some of your oil,
for our lamps are going out.’
Matthew 25:1-13

O God of day and God of night,
when Christ the bridegroom comes for me,
and if my lamp no more burns bright,
by your good grace then may it be,
O God of dark and God of light,
that he my shine a light for me.

For when these moments all uncoil,
no light will shine from my poor dust.
If ever I had any oil,
it flowed from him as he was crushed—
not by my strength, not by my toil,
but only his outpouring love.

So there must be, by your good grace,
a fountain that is flowing still,
whose drops anoint each human face
that waits upon the bridegroom's will,
where mercy ever flows in spate.
The bridegroom's love my flask must fill.

The waiting seems forever long,
O God of day and God of night,
and though the hours stretch on and on
while we await the bridegroom's light,
may we yet meet him when he comes
with lanterns he keeps burning bright.

Francken, Hieronymus the Younger – Parable of the Wise and Foolish Virgins – c. 1616 By Hieronymous Francken II – Web Gallery of Art: Image Info about artwork, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=6860120