Peace
A Sonnet by Malcolm Guite
Not as the world gives, not the victor’s peace,
Not to be fought for, hard-won, or achieved,
Just grace and mercy, gratefully received:
An undeserved and unforeseen release,
As the cold chains of memory and wrath
Fall from our hearts before we are aware,
Their rusty locks all picked by patient prayer,
Till closed doors open, and we see a path
Descending from a source we cannot see;
A path that must be taken, hand in hand,
Only by those, forgiving and forgiven,
Who see their saviour in their enemy.
So reach for me. We’ll cross our broken land,
And make each other bridges back to Heaven.
In Dulci Jubilo
In dulci jubilo
Let us our homage show:
Our heart’s joy reclineth
In praesepio;
And like a bright star shineth
Matris in gremio,
Alpha es et O!
O Jesu parvule,
My heart is sore for Thee!
Hear me, I beseech Thee,
O puer optime;
My praying let it reach Thee,
O princeps gloriae.
Trahe me post te.
O patris caritas!
O Nati lenitas!
Deeply were we stained.
Per nostra crimina: But
Thou for us hast gained
Coelorum gaudia,
Qualis gloria!
Ubi sunt gaudia,
If that they be not there?
There are Angels singing
Nova cantica;
And there the bells are ringing
In Regis curia.
O that we were there!
