The Lord God Made It All

The lyr­ics are a trans­la­tion of a Gael­ic po­em called “St. Pat­rick’s Lor­i­ca,” or breast­plate. (A “lorica” was a mys­tic­al gar­ment that was sup­posed to pro­tect the wear­er from dan­ger and ill­ness, and guar­an­tee ent­ry in­to Hea­ven.) Ce­cil Alex­an­der penned these words at the re­quest of H. H. Dick­in­son, Dean of the Cha­pel Roy­al at Dub­lin Cas­tle:

I wrote to her sug­gest­ing that she should fill a gap in our Irish Church Hymn­al by giv­ing us a me­tric­al ver­sion of St. Patrick’s “Lor­i­ca” and I sent her a care­ful­ly col­lat­ed co­py of the best prose trans­la­tions of it. With­in a week she sent me that ex­qui­site­ly beau­ti­ful as well as faith­ful ver­sion which ap­pears in the ap­pend­ix to our Church Hymn­al.

This hymn can be a chall­enge to sing with­out see­ing the words matched to the notes, but it is a mas­ter­piece ne­ver­the­less. 

I bind unto myself today
The strong Name of the Trinity,
By invocation of the same
The Three in One and One in Three.

I bind this today to me forever
By power of faith, Christ’s incarnation;
His baptism in Jordan river,
His death on Cross for my salvation;
His bursting from the spicèd tomb,
His riding up the heavenly way,
His coming at the day of doom
I bind unto myself today.

I bind unto myself the power
Of the great love of cherubim;
The sweet ‘Well done’ in judgment hour,
The service of the seraphim,
Confessors’ faith, Apostles’ word,
The Patriarchs’ prayers, the prophets’ scrolls,
All good deeds done unto the Lord
And purity of virgin souls.

I bind unto myself today
The virtues of the star lit heaven,
The glorious sun’s life giving ray,
The whiteness of the moon at even,
The flashing of the lightning free,
The whirling wind’s tempestuous shocks,
The stable earth, the deep salt sea
Around the old eternal rocks.

I bind unto myself today
The power of God to hold and lead,
His eye to watch, His might to stay,
His ear to hearken to my need.
The wisdom of my God to teach,
His hand to guide, His shield to ward;
The word of God to give me speech,
His heavenly host to be my guard.

Against the demon snares of sin,
The vice that gives temptation force,
The natural lusts that war within,
The hostile men that mar my course;
Or few or many, far or nigh,
In every place and in all hours,
Against their fierce hostility
I bind to me these holy powers.

Against all Satan’s spells and wiles,
Against false words of heresy,
Against the knowledge that defiles,
Against the heart’s idolatry,
Against the wizard’s evil craft,
Against the death wound and the burning,
The choking wave, the poisoned shaft,
Protect me, Christ, till Thy returning.

Christ be with me, Christ within me,
Christ behind me, Christ before me,
Christ beside me, Christ to win me,
Christ to comfort and restore me.
Christ beneath me, Christ above me,
Christ in quiet, Christ in danger,
Christ in hearts of all that love me,
Christ in mouth of friend and stranger.

I bind unto myself the Name,
The strong Name of the Trinity,
By invocation of the same,
The Three in One and One in Three.
By Whom all nature hath creation,
Eternal Father, Spirit, Word:
Praise to the Lord of my salvation,
Salvation is of Christ the Lord.

Softly Falls the Gentle Rain

Softly falls the gentle rain
On days that always seem the same;
Lulling as I go to sleep,
Sending me to slumbers deep…
Softly falls the gentle rain.

Softly falls the gentle rain
On endless days of which I’d fain
To be outside about my play;
I wish the clouds would go away…
Softly falls the gentle rain.

Softly falls the gentle rain,
Hushabying as it came;
Bringing life to all the green
And all of nature that I’ve seen…
Softly falls the gentle rain.

Written October, 2002

Love

If we love for our own sake,
If we love
To be loved,
Our love is of the poorest make,
Not worth God’s love above.

But it we love for loving’s sake,
If we love
Just to love,
Our love is of the finest make,
For so God’s name is Love.

Written May 13th, 2004 by Kathy Lynelle Spangler

Grendal

With Apologies to Lewis Carroll

‘Twas even, and the howling wind
Did wail and whistle in the night;
A full moon ‘gainst the sky was pinned,
But not a cloud in sight.

“Beware the Grendal, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
The king’s dark hall, oh always shun
Lest by it you be snatched!”

And where was he when twilight fell?
Long time the fearsome foe he sought—
So rested he in the king’s feast-hall,
And laid awake in thought.

And, as in somber thought he laid,
The Grendal, with eyes of flame,
Came frothing for the blood it craved,
And roaring as it came!

Grasp tight! Grasp tight! And wrench and fight
The massive limb went rip and crack!
He left it dead, and with its arm
He went, exulting, back.

“And hast thou slain the Grendal?
Come to my arms my princely boy!”
Oh happy day! Hurrah! Hooray!
He laughed aloud in joy.

‘Twas even, and the howling wind
Did wail and whistle in the night;
A full moon ‘gainst the sky was pinned,
But not a cloud in sight.

Written January 2nd, 2009 by Kathy Lynelle Spangler

Feathered Flock

“The simplest things are sweetest,”
quoth some old-time poet,
Whose name slips my mind at present.
‘Tis a truth we all know, yet it seems to me
That phrase seldom flows from head to heart.

Take a bird, any bird, as my example,
Be it a kestrel, robin, or wren.
Have you ever noticed each feather is a series
Of minute zippers
Fastening each strand of fairy-spun fluff together
Completing the whole,
Adorning even the plainest fowl
In apparel better tailored than a king’s?

The peasant-folk sparrows gossip merrily
About the doings of the scandalous starlights.
At the club the old owls doze while the crows
Come to blows over politics.
And every wise mother keeps her daughters away
From fast young cardinals and romantic bluebirds
(Privately, however, I confess to an attraction
For the blue jay,
Though he may be a dandy who can never agree).
Society is never dull in the feathered kingdom!

And have you ever beheld a bird on wing?
Of course, you say, but truly?
Do you take the time to mark the difference
Between the flight of a hawk and swallow?
Observe
The hummingbird, like a bejeweled hovercraft,
Or an eagle, motionless, against the horizon.
For not every bird takes to the skies the same,
And did you ever noticed before?

That long-ago writ whom I cannot remember
Was so much wiser than we.

Written November 30th, 2008 by Kathy Lynelle Spangler