Raining Against My Much-Thick and Marsh Air

This weekend at Oak Hills, Pastor Kent preached about becoming awake to the sacredness of others. It was a great sermon, which you can listen to online soon. He referenced the sermon "The Weight of Glory," by C.S. Lewis, which you can also find online. The sermon also reminded me of a poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins, who is probably my favorite poet. The poem, "The Lantern out of Doors," compares the beautiful, wavering light of a lantern to the radiance of another person. I especially love the hope at the end. Tell me what you think.

--Jenny


The Lantern out of Doors


SOMETIMES a lantern moves along the night,
That interests our eyes. And who goes there?
I think; where from and bound, I wonder, where,
With, all down darkness wide, his wading light?

Men go by me whom either beauty bright
In mould or mind or what not else makes rare:
They rain against our much-thick and marsh air
Rich beams, till death or distance buys them quite.

Death or distance soon consumes them: wind
What most I may eye after, be in at the end
I cannot, and out of sight is out of mind.

Christ minds: Christ’s interest, what to avow or amend
There, éyes them, heart wánts, care haúnts, foot fóllows kínd,
Their ránsom, théir rescue, ánd first, fást, last friénd.