Posted in LENTEN PRAYERS & NOVENAS, Our MORNING Offering, POETRY, PRAYERS for VARIOUS NEEDS, QUOTES on LOVE of GOD, The PASSION

Our Morning Offering – 31 March – Sonnet to our Lord Crucified

Our Morning Offering – 31 March – Wednesday in Holy Week

Sonnet to our Lord Crucified
Anonymous, of Spanish origen

I am not moved to love Thee, O my God,
That I might hope in promised heaven to dwell,
Nor am I moved by fear of pain in hell,
To turn from sin and follow where Thou trod.
Thou move me, Lord, broken beneath the rod,
Or stretched out on the Cross, as nails compel
Thy hand to twitch.
It moves me that we sell,
To mockery and death, Thy Precious Blood.
It is, O Christ, Thy love which moves me so,
That my love rests not on a promised prize,
Nor holy fear or threat of endless woe,
It is not milk and honey but the flow
Of Blood from blessed wounds before my eyes,
That waters my buried soul and makes it grow.
Amen

Spanish:
No me mueve, mi Dios, para quererte,
Elcielo que me tienes prometido,
Mi me mueve el infierno tan temido,
para dejar por eso de ofenderte.
Tu me mueves, Senor, mueveme el verte
Clavado en una cruz y escarnecido,
Mueveme el ver tu cuerpo tan herido,
Muevenme tus afrentas y tu muerte.
Mueveme, en fin, tu amor de tal manera,
que aunque no hubiera cielo, yo te amara,
Y aunque no hubiera infierno, te temiera.
No me tienes que dar porque Te quiera,
Porque, aunque lo que espero no esperara,
Lo mismo que te quiero Te quisiera.

Who wrote it? Who knows?
The names fell from the pages,
Lost and never
To return to where
The eyes of the reader
Might ever see them.
‘I am no-one,
Constructing eternity so,
I can live forever’

Posted in CATHOLIC-PRAYERS OF THE CHURCH, LENTEN PRAYERS & NOVENAS, Our MORNING Offering, POETRY, PRAYERS for SEASONS, PRAYERS of the CHURCH, The HOLY CROSS, The PASSION

Our Morning Offering – 31 March – It is, O Christ, Your love which moves me so …

Our Morning Offering – 31 March – Tuesday of the Fifth Week of Lent

Sonnet to our Lord Crucified
Anonymous, of Spanish origen

I am not moved to love You, O my God,
That I might hope in promised heaven to dwell,
Nor am I moved by fear of pain in hell,
To turn from sin and follow where You trod.
You move me, Lord, broken beneath the rod,
Or stretched out on the cross, as nails compel
Your hand to twitch. It moves me that we sell,
To mockery and death, Your precious blood.
It is, O Christ, Your love which moves me so,
That my love rests not on a promised prize,
Nor holy fear on threat of endless woe,
It is not milk and honey but the flow
Of blood from blessed wounds before my eyes,
That waters my buried soul and makes it grow.
Amen

Spanish:
No me mueve, mi Dios, para quererte,
Elcielo que me tienes prometido,
Mi me mueve el infierno tan temido,
para dejar por eso de ofenderte.
Tu me mueves, Senor, mueveme el verte
Clavado en una cruz y escarnecido,
Mueveme el ver tu cuerpo tan herido,
Muevenme tus afrentas y tu muerte.
Mueveme, en fin, tu amor de tal manera,
que aunque no hubiera cielo, yo te amara,
Y aunque no hubiera infierno, te temiera.
No me tienes que dar porque Te quiera,
Porque, aunque lo que espero no esperara,
Lo mismo que te quiero Te quisiera.

Who wrote it? Who knows?
The names fell from the pages,
Lost and never
To return to where
The eyes of the reader
Might ever see them.
‘I am no-one,
Constructing eternity so,
I can live forever’

sonnet to our lord crucified anonymous of spanish origen 31 march 2020

Posted in CATHOLIC-PRAYERS OF THE CHURCH, Our MORNING Offering, POETRY, PRAYERS of the CHURCH, QUOTES on the CROSS of CHRIST, The HOLY CROSS, The HOLY EUCHARIST

Our Morning Offering – 15 September – Sonnet to our Lord Crucified

Our Morning Offering – 15 September – Twenty Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year C

As we celebrate today the holy mystery of the Sacrifice of the Mass,

let us contemplate our Lord Crucified.

Sonnet to our Lord Crucified
Anonymous

I am not moved to love You, O my God,
That I might hope in promised heaven to dwell,
Nor am I moved by fear of pain in hell,
To turn from sin and follow where You trod.
You move me, Lord, broken beneath the rod,
Or stretched out on the cross, as nails compel
Your hand to twitch. It moves me that we sell,
To mockery and death, Your precious blood.
It is, O Christ, Your love which moves me so,
That my love rests not on a promised prize,
Nor holy fear on threat of endless woe,
It is not milk and honey but the flow
Of blood from blessed wounds before my eyes,
That waters my buried soul and makes it grow.
Amensonnet to our lord crucified i am not moved to love you - 15 sept 2019.jpg