By Judy Welden
By Udana Power
By Anne Louise Antonoff
By Ray Agnew
By Catherine Gortner
By Eric Copeland


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By Judy Welden
(c) all rights reserved
Judy's site

My soul once churned like a stormy sea,
A constant, raging source of energy
And peace of mind was but a memory.

Adversity would dampen, often drown
My faith and insight...... both went limp like a tattered gown.
Forgotten smiles would falter, force a frown.

I found no time to do what mattered most.
Would speed in highest gear and never coast.
New goals were realized, I loved to boast.

Now that I have grown in wisdom and grace,
Prayer is given a prominent, special place.
I sail more slowly, refuse to race.

For me, the sea's uniqueness will never cease.
When I am near it, blessed with inner peace,
All cares are put on hold for God's release.

Unlike the winds that thrash the mighty sea,
He is at the helm to comfort me;



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By Udana Power
(c) upower 1990, all rights reserved

God grant me the eyes
to finally see
? that I am not the one
who knows what's really important
and gets the miracles done

God grant me the peace
to finally know
? that I don't have to be the best
life is not a contest
I can play and I can rest

God grant me the ears ?
to finally hear
? the song you've been singing forever
help me to remember
that we are in this together

God grant me the brains
to understand
? I'm a window for your light
that tears are meant to wash me clean
so you shine clear and bright

Oh God let me learn
how sweet it is
? to finally disappear
and dissolve into Existence
so that only you are here.


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By Anne Louise Antonoff
(c) 1999 Anne Louise Antonoff, all rights reserved

Rising from the sleepy fields and pastures
A bright bazaar of elegant spires and domes
Juxtaposes college quads of rare intellectual splendor
With boutiques that trade in a different coin.

The crowded pubs and cafes resound with murmur
Of dates and exams and other tests of mettle
While bicycles hurtle from one street to another
In quest of the moment, if not of truth eternal.

Radcliffe Camera floats high above the town
A monument of disdain for passing fashions
But ample tribute to fierce intellectual passion
Fueled by imperial wealth dressed in academic gowns.

All Souls College marks another phase of history
In memory of the fallen in the Hundred Years' War
And in flanking ivory towers one opens a door
From temporal triumph onto universal mystery.

A stroll around the bounds of Christchurch Meadow
Brings down to earth the soaring architectural peaks
As college towers nestled amid oaks and willows
Catch sunlight with an air now lowly and meek.

A don, a crew, a patch of dainty Queen Anne's Lace
All merit like attention from the camera's lens
For all work God's will and all are denizens
Of God's garden and instruments of His grace.

A wise old woman sits and sketches wildlife
While crafting poems inspired by the setting
Attuned to the sounds of life and faith in nature
Where all began and all one day will end.


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By Ray Agnew
Music & Lyrics (c) 2000 Ray Agnew, all rights reserved

Early summer Sunday
Gramma's backyard 'n all my kin
Gotta cold mountain dew on ice
Warm sunshine on my skin

That's what it's all about (repeat)

Footbridge to the river
The water cold and clear
I can see every face right now
Each smile and each tear

That's what it's all about (keep the memory clear)
That's what it's all about
That's what it's all about
That's what it's all about

Minnesota cousins
In December desert sun
We danced on the Canyon's edge
We drank the river run

That's what it's all about (repeat)

I dream of California
And my mother by the sea
She's strong and she's healthy
And she's waiting there for me

That's what it's all about (keep the memory clear)
That's what it's all about
That's what it's all about

You see yourself
Reflected in the lives you've touched
Just see how much

Take your time
And listen to the voice within
It's leading you to Him, no doubt
That's what it's all about

The woman who shares my life
Her warm gaze comforts me
I look into my children's eyes
Amazed at what I see

That's what it's all about (keep their memory dear)
That's what it's all about
That's what it's all about
That's what it's all about


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By Catherine Gortner
(c) 2000 Catherine Gortner, all rights reserved


When I was a young child I had a spiritual moment which was one of those key awarenesses you remember for a lifetime. I was sitting on the right side, midway to the back of our unassuming, country Episcopalian church. The pink dogwood tree outside the church window was in full bloom. As a child I adored dogwoods. They came in pure white and pure pink varieties and I marveled they turned almost solid color with very little green. A cherished postcard described the symbol of its flower: the four petals formed Christ's cross and the round cluster of seeds in the middle symbolized the crown of thorns.

The dogwood was bursting with pink accented by very faint touches of light green. It was so very beautiful as the sermon droned on like a running faucet lacking melody. I was a somewhat devoted child. I engaged myself fully in the songs and prayers, heartily believing every word I spoke. I also loved hearing the Bible read because something alive from God would always catch my attention in the readings. But sermons, I determined, were for adults who had a lot of problems! So I watched the tree delicately catching whiffs of wind with its flowers.

Then, as I looked at the overflowing pastels subtly flickering with sun splashes and patchwork shadows, I felt my heart escape with a rush of love. This tree exuded beauty which flushed me with happiness. With budding reason, I realized I was perceiving beauty. It was the same tree, but one moment it became much more beautiful to me than the previous. I decided what made me see beauty was God. He gave me right then and there the ability to see a glory on His tree that gave me ecstasy in the pews.

There was one other time I experienced such a flood of delight and joy in church. That was at my confirmation. Bishop Walker, the Episcopalian church's first African-American bishop, looked into my eyes and I into his, and I barely remember the words I spoke announcing my faith. Instead, something came over me and in me and filled me so full that I was spilling with love and wonder. Unspeakable love filled me like a balloon, so much so that I would have burst if it were not such magnificent awe. I was held immobile, bathed in an adoration of and for God and the inseparable adoration for my Bishop.

I knew this boundless emotion wasn't me, it was *God*, because I couldn't even make myself feel like that. I knew my precocious attitude too well. But while kneeling there in Washington, D. C., a rush of love and warmth embraced, covered and filled me like a wave. When I told another adult later that "I felt God!", I was patted and my comment ignored. Episcopalians sometimes don't know how to handle the Presence of the Holy Spirit, as if His existence is on the outside rather than the inside.

The love He gives is found in the perceived beauty of the dogwood. As God loved first so I love others. As God gives perception of beauty so I see beauty. With God, glorious beauty. Without God, a simple tree.

"For... who can have enjoyment without Him?" (Ecclesiastes 2:25)


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By Eric Copeland
Music & Lyrics (c) 1999 Eric Copeland Music, all rights reserved

When life grows too cold
I reach out for your touch
And I realize you're not by my side

Then I remember how I walked away
Under my own power
Thought I didnt need you anyway
And now what do I do
Cause I'm still needing you

And It's Me Who Leaves
And then I find that I can't make it on my own
And I'm far from home
It's me who leaves
Even though I surely know
Tomorrow I'll be beggin please
And I'll be at your door
Cause it's me who leaves

I trace my steps through the valleys of my life
You were always there, always there with love

Then I remember how I let it go
Thought I would never need a warm and loving hand to hold
But now I clearly see
With you I was free


It's always so easy just to run away
But I know my heart has got to want to stay


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Except where otherwise noted, (c) copyright 1999-2001 Destiny Music, Inc. All rights reserved