Poem of the Month - June (barely!)
Can't believe I've missed posting for so long. I have somewhat of an excuse, though, as I've been working about 48 hours a week since I left school. Let's just say working in the cubicle across from your dad is an interesting experience...
I was going to post the Cremation of Sam McGee for this month's very late poem, but then I realized I already used it, back in January. Therefore, I'll go for another of my favorite poems - The Right Must Win, by Father Frederick William Faber. The poem has especially good application today, since our American government has held up an inherently immoral mandate in the highest court of the land, and things are looking grim both for Catholic and for human rights. Big Brother is looming. And sometimes it seems like the world has gone crazy, and what hope can there be left for the lone heroes who try to struggle on along the narrow road?
The word "inspiration" come from the verb to "spirate" or to breathe; the same word as the name of the Holy Spirit. The Third Person of the Blessed Trinity is the love of the Father and the Son issuing forth upon us. So let this be an inspirational poem, and help to give strength. For we all face martyrdom in the coming age, whether red or white, and we all need the Holy Spirit in every moment and every decision of our lives.
The Right Must Win
Oh, it is hard to work for God,
To rise and take his part
Upon this battle-field of earth,
And not sometimes lose heart!
He hides himself so wondrously,
As though there were no God;
He is least seen when all the powers
Of ill are most abroad.
Or he deserts us at the hour
The fight is all but lost;
And seems to leave us to ourselves
Just when we need him most.
Ill masters good; good seems to change
To ill with greatest ease;
And, worst of all, the good with good
Is at cross-purposes.
Ah! God is other than we think;
His ways are far above,
Far beyond reason’s height, and reach’d
Only by childlike love.
Workman of God! Oh, lose not heart,
But learn what God is like;
And in the darkest battle-field
Thou shalt know where to strike.
Thrice bless’d is he to whom is given
The instinct that can tell
That God is on the field when he
Is most invisible.
Bless’d, too, is he who can divine
Where real right doth lie,
And dares to take the side that seems
Wrong to man’s blindfold eye.
For right is right, since God is God;
And right the day must win;
To doubt would be disloyalty,
To falter would be sin.