This week we have chosen to reflect on Evening Time.
There is a contemporary psalm – ‘A Sunset Psalm of Turning’, and Joyce Rupp’s ‘The Secret of Serenity’ – the evening of the year. Also, some music: a track from Belmont Abbey, Alan Rees’s ‘Stay with us, Lord’ – a reflection on words from the Emmaus story where the weary travellers at evening time invite Jesus to stay with them & share a meal with them, and David Hass’s ’At Evening’.
We end as usual with a blessing – not a musical one this week.
The words of ‘Stay with Us’ – in case you don’t catch them all!
Stay with us Lord, for day is almost over, come to us in peace & greet us with your word;
You we have known, your love has sought & found us, speak to us now, our brother & our Lord.
Stay with us Lord, your word like fire within us sheds its searching light on all our despair;
We had forgotten you, the risen Master, taking our way you talked with us there.
Stay with us Lord, & ever go before us, soon will your future dawn on us like day;
Stretch out your hand to hold & lead us always, gentle & strong one, Lord of our way.
Enjoy your weekend!
A Sunset Psalm of Turning
Slowly we are turning once again
to look into the dark, star-sprinkled space
through which our planet is travelling.
All life is aware of the approaching view,
and the sunset beauty of this day’s end
is an overture to the awesome grandeur
of the eternal vision that awaits us.
As the earth turns outwards,
may my thoughts turn inwards
to the Sacred Mystery that dwells in my heart.
At the end of this day
I sing a song of thanksgiving
for the wonder of life.
I lift up my voice in gratitude
for all this day has held for me
as I turn my memory to its flood of gifts.
pause for recollection of blessings & gifts………………..
Blessed are you, Divine Mystery,
who has chosen to dwell within me
and has enriched this day
with zestful life, beauty, love,
and the discipline of my trials & temptations.
Blessed are you, O God,
most blessed are you.
The Secret of Serenity
with a constant chorus of cicadas
the leaves tumble down,
from long, thin silver poplars
they twirl to the ground,
dancing the autumn death-dance
beneath the great blue sky.
this gigantic death-scene of leaves
does not smell of sorrow & sadness;
rather, the earth is coloured with joy
and the leaves make music in the wind.
I have not yet discovered the secret
of the serenity of sailing leaves;
every autumn I walk among them
with a longing that stretches forever,
wanting to face that death-dance
and the truth of my own mortality.
At Evening – David Hass