A poem concerning how through faith in the Triune God -made active with a living and true devotion to the Holy Family- the soul can dine at the beatific feast which is reserved for the blessed, here in the now.
At banquet with Host Who art
Three,
Resounds chatter loud amongst saints;
Mingled with tune of harp
divine,
Which though unheard, through
faith’s fair-ear transmit.
And whilst beatific
taste sheds time,
Through Holy
Family I dine.
O table of Father at Thee I sit,
In prayerful
trust and peaceful rest;
With chair
my faith that Joseph had,
On which I
with patience wait.
O hidden
most Truth, my knowing sees,
Because Thy
dining lamp is lit.
O flesh of Lamb sublime of
which I eat,
In only
glutt’ny ordained by sacred writ;
On plate of
hope Thy meat I store,
With blood
my wine of which I drink.
O Beauty fleshed,
my memory’s full,
Because
this feast recalls Thy wheat.
O waiter of Spirit through Thee
I taste,
In measure to desire’s heat;
For Mary’s love for man and God,
Are my orders placed Thou dost take.
O blazing
Goodness, my glad will starves,
Because me
Thou dost feed with haste.
At table of Father I sit,
Feasting on
meat of Word the Son;
Whilst Spirit Holy waits on me,
Ready to pour out from bottle ‘bove
waist.
So “come my
friend”, say I to He,
As goblet
mine tops up for free.
20-21st April, 2015.
