(after hearing Morten Lauridsen’s Magnum Mysterium at a friend’s Wedding) The hush falls like soft-feathered snow, as light takes its leave. Clamoring thoughts, like tired children
Lord, you have searched me and have known my madness, a wilderness of visions and song. I welter in birthright riddles, my mother deranged,
wind myself up the way my buddy, Dave, taught me when I was fifteen, kick my leg toward high heaven land on it, pivot,
Through her heart, His sorrow sharing, all His bitter anguish bearing, now at length the sword has passed. I. As He Leaves the Palace of
He is buried in Calvary Cemetery in Woodside, Queens under a cross and his own words: “Peace O My Rebel Heart”. Claude McKay (1889-1948) was
Expectans Expectavi With expectation I have waited for the Lord, and he was attentive to me.— Psalm 39:2, Douay Rheims Bible Knowing you so near,
In a recent essay Joseph Bottum pins the novel’s decline less on screens and social media than on metaphysical flatness. Much contemporary fiction either inhabits
But Jesus said to them: “Suffer the little children, and forbid them not to come to me: for the kingdom of heaven is for such.”
“Hasten to Aid Thy Fallen People” How does one make a song of holiness? Or speak of music without spoiling it? They both seem
THE SONG OF ELIZABETH SETON Elizabeth was just a girl, And watched as her young mother died. Her father, in his Yankee way,
