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We open with The Rainy Day by Longfellow, followed by a Prayer for a Grey Day. This is followed by a small, lovely piece of prose by Thomas Hardy from one of his earliest novels – Desperate Remedies. After this a powerful poem by Emily Dickinson, then a short and beautiful prayer by Rabindranath Tagore, entitled Rain. We close with an ancient and beautiful Celtic prayer, with a simple but universal message, entitled… You Are.
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The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
And the day is dark and dreary.
My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
My thoughts still cling to the mouldering past,
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,
And the days are dark and dreary.
Be still, sad heart! and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary.
Prayer for A Grey Day
Bless this grey day;
The sky is overcast
But behind the cloud
Is sun and blue sky
Bless the gloom and dreariness
That we see and feel
In this most physical world
Touch the darkness:
See the wall of cloud
Hear the pattering rain
It’s dull, threatening,
Shadowy in one place
Radiant, gentle and hidden
in the other,
Sunshine And hidden blue
Then, when least expected –
The sun breaks through
And shines on us all
Bringing untold joy –
Light, love and laughter
Bless the gloom
For the sun that follows
From Desperate Remedies
By Thomas Hardy
The rain now came down heavily, but they pursued their path with alacrity, the produce of the several fields between which the lane wound its way being indicated by the peculiar character of the sound emitted by the falling drops. Sometimes a soaking hiss proclaimed that they were passing by a pasture, then a patter would show that the rain fell upon some large-leafed root crop, then a paddling plash announced the naked arable, the low sound of the wind in their ears rising and falling with each pace they took…
There Came A Wind Like A Bugle
There came a wind like a bugle;
It quivered through the grass,
And a green chill upon the heat
So ominous did pass
We barred the windows and the doors
As from an emerald ghost;
The doom’s electric moccasin
That very instant passed.
On a strange mob of panting trees,
And fences fled away,
And rivers where the houses ran
Those looked that lived—that Day—
The bell within the steeple wild
The flying tidings whirled.
How much can come
And much can go,
And yet abide the world!
Rabindranath Tagore (1861- 1941)
The day is dim with rain.
Angry lightning glances through the tattered cloud veils, and the forest is like a caged lion shaking its mane in despair.
On such a day, amid the winds beating their wings, let me find my peace in Your presence.
For the sorrowing sky has shadowed my solitude, to deepen the meaning of Your touch about my heart.
From the Celtic Oral Tradition
You are the peace of all things calm
You are the place to hide from harm
You are the light that shines in the dark
You are the heart’s eternal spark
You are the door that opens wide
You are the guest who waits inside
You are the stranger at the door
You are the calling of the poor
You are my Lord and keep me from ill
You are the light, the truth, the way
You are my Saviour this very day