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Best Famous Religion Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Religion poems. This is a select list of the best famous Religion poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Religion poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of religion poems.

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by Philip Larkin | |

Water

 If I were called in
To construct a religion
I should make use of water.
Going to church Would entail a fording To dry, different clothes; My liturgy would employ Images of sousing, A furious devout drench, And I should raise in the east A glass of water Where any-angled light Would congregate endlessly.


by Edmund Spenser | |

Poem 22

 ANd thou great Iuno, which with awful might
the lawes of wedlock still dost patronize,
And the religion of the faith first plight
With sacred rites hast taught to solemnize:
and eeke for comfort often called art
Of women in their smart,
Eternally bind thou this louely band,
And all thy blessings vnto vs impart.
And thou glad Genius, in whose gentle hand, The bridale bowre and geniall bed remaine, Without blemish or staine.
And the sweet pleasures of theyr loues delight With secret ayde doest succour and supply, Till they bring forth the fruitfull progeny, Send vs the timely fruit of this same night.
And thou fayre Hebe, and thou Hymen free, Grant that it may so be.
Til which we cease your further prayse to sing, Ne any woods shal answer, nor your Eccho ring.


by Alan Seeger | |

Sonnet XIII

 I fancied, while you stood conversing there, 
Superb, in every attitude a queen, 
Her ermine thus Boadicea bare, 
So moved amid the multitude Faustine.
My life, whose whole religion Beauty is, Be charged with sin if ever before yours A lesser feeling crossed my mind than his Who owning grandeur marvels and adores.
Nay, rather in my dream-world's ivory tower I made your image the high pearly sill, And mounting there in many a wistful hour, Burdened with love, I trembled and was still, Seeing discovered from that azure height Remote, untrod horizons of delight.


by Anne Sexton | |

The Starry Night

 That does not keep me from having a terrible need of -- shall I say the word -- religion.
Then I go out at night to paint the stars.
--Vincent Van Gogh in a letter to his brother The town does not exist except where one black-haired tree slips up like a drowned woman into the hot sky.
The town is silent.
The night boils with eleven stars.
Oh starry starry night! This is how I want to die.
It moves.
They are all alive.
Even the moon bulges in its orange irons to push children, like a god, from its eye.
The old unseen serpent swallows up the stars.
Oh starry starry night! This is how I want to die: into that rushing beast of the night, sucked up by that great dragon, to split from my life with no flag, no belly, no cry.


by John Milton | |

To Sr Henry Vane The Younger

 Vane, young in yeares, but in sage counsell old,
Then whome a better Senatour nere held
The helme of Rome, when gownes not armes repelld
The feirce Epeirot & the African bold,
Whether to settle peace, or to unfold
The drift of hollow states, hard to be spelld,
Then to advise how warr may best, upheld,
Move by her two maine nerves, Iron & Gold
In all her equipage: besides to know
Both spirituall powre & civill, what each meanes 
What severs each thou hast learnt, which few have don
The bounds of either sword to thee wee ow.
Therfore on thy firme hand religion leanes In peace, & reck'ns thee her eldest son.


by Belinda Subraman | |

Classical Indian Explanation: Music

 past the hippies
past Ravi Shankar
eons before
when the first Asian snake
came alive
stiffened with sound
through some empty shell
some hollow wood
some emptiness

the snake 
was not so much charmed
as listening intently
to the accidental flute
to that which he knew
must be female
its empty insides
calling him
with breath music

and he joined in 
for awhile
finding a rang of sounds
he’d never heard
then peace

and a new religion
practiced in places
where snakes are holy
and music
is written in his tongue


by Jonathan Swift | |

The Place of the Damned

 All folks who pretend to religion and grace,
Allow there's a HELL, but dispute of the place:
But, if HELL may by logical rules be defined
The place of the damned -I'll tell you my mind.
Wherever the damned do chiefly abound, Most certainly there is HELL to be found: Damned poets, damned critics, damned blockheads, damned knaves, Damned senators bribed, damned prostitute slaves; Damned lawyers and judges, damned lords and damned squires; Damned spies and informers, damned friends and damned liars; Damned villains, corrupted in every station; Damned time-serving priests all over the nation; And into the bargain I'll readily give you Damned ignorant prelates, and counsellors privy.
Then let us no longer by parsons be flammed, For we know by these marks the place of the damned: And HELL to be sure is at Paris or Rome.
How happy for us that it is not at home!


by Isaac Watts | |

Psalm 14 part 1

 By Nature all men are sinners.
Fools in their heart believe and say "That all religion's vain; There is no God that reigns on high, Or minds th' affairs of men.
" From thoughts so dreadful and profane, Corrupt discourse proceeds; And in their impious hands are found Abominable deeds.
The Lord from his celestial throne Looked down on things below, To find the man that sought his grace, Or did his justice know.
By nature all are gone astray, Their practice all the same; There's none that fears his Maker's hand; There's none that loves his name.
Their tongues are used to speak deceit, Their slanders never cease; How swift to mischief are their feet, Nor know the paths of peace! Such seeds of sin (that bitter root) In every heart are found; Nor can they bear diviner fruit, Till grace refine the ground.


by Isaac Watts | |

Hymn 133

 Love and charity.
1 Cor.
13:2-7, 13.
Let Pharisees of high esteem Their faith and zeal declare, All their religion is a dream, If love be wanting there.
Love suffers long with patient eye, Nor is provoked in haste; She lets the present injury die, And long forgets the past.
[Malice and rage, those fires of hell, She quenches with her tongue; Hopes and believes, and thinks no ill, Though she endure the wrong.
] [She nor desires nor seeks to know The scandals of the time; Nor looks with pride on those below, Nor envies those that climb.
] She lays her own advantage by To seek her neighbor's good; So God's own Son came down to die, And bought our lives with blood.
Love is the grace that keeps her power In all the realms above; There faith and hope are known no more, But saints for ever love.


by Isaac Watts | |

Hymn 134

 Religion vain without love.
1 Cor.
13:1-3.
Had I the tongues of Greeks and Jews, And nobler speech, that angels use, If love be absent, I am found, Like tinkling brass, an empty sound.
Were I inspired to preach and tell All that is done in heav'n and hell; Or could my faith the world remove, Still I am nothing without love.
Should I distribute all my store To feed the bowels of the poor, Or give my body to the flame, To gain a martyr's glorious name; If love to God and love to men Be absent, all my hopes are vain; Nor tongues, nor gifts, nor fiery zeal, The work of love can e'er fulfil.


by Isaac Watts | |

Examples of Early Piety

 What blest examples do I find
Writ in the Word of Truth
Of children that began to mind
Religion in their youth!

Jesus, who reigns above the sky,
And keeps the world in awe,
Was once a child as young as I,
And kept His Father's law.
At twelve years old he talked with men, The Jews all wondering stand; Yet He obeyed his Mother then, And came at her command.
Children a sweet hosanna sung, And blest their Savior's name; They gave Him honor with their tongue, While scribes and priests blaspheme.
Samuel the child was weaned and brought To wait upon the Lord: Young Timothy betimes was taught To know his holy Word.
Then why should I so long delay What others learnt so soon? I would not pass another day Without this work begun.


by Isaac Watts | |

Hymn 132

 Holiness and grace.
Titus 2:10-13.
O let our lips and lives express The holy gospel we profess; So let our works and virtues shine, To prove the doctrine all divine.
Thus shall we best proclaim abroad The honors of our Savior God; When the salvation reigns within, And grace subdues the power of sin.
Our flesh and sense must be denied, Passion and envy, lust and pride; While justice, temp'rance, truth, and love, Our inward piety approve.
Religion bears our spirits up, While we expect that blessed hope, The bright appearance of the Lord, And faith stands leaning on his word.


by Isaac Watts | |

Psalm 85 part 2

 v.
9ff L.
M.
Salvation by Christ.
Salvation is for ever nigh The souls that fear and trust the Lord And grace descending from on high Fresh hopes of glory shall afford.
Mercy and truth on earth are met, Since Christ the Lord came down from heav'n; By his obedience so complete, Justice is pleased, and peace is giv'n.
Now truth and honor shall abound, Religion dwell on earth again, And heav'nly influence bless the ground In our Redeemer's gentle reign.
His righteousness is gone before To give us free access to God; Our wand'ring feet shall stray no more, But mark his steps and keep the road.


by Robert William Service | |

Pragmatic

 When young I was an Atheist,
 Yea, pompous as a pigeon
No opportunity I missed
 To satirize religion.
I sneered at Scripture, scoffed at Faith, I blasphemed at believers: Said I: "There's nothing after Death,-- Your priests are just deceivers.
" In middle age I was not so Contemptuous and caustic.
Thought I: "There's much I do not know: I'd better be agnostic.
The hope of immortality 'Tis foolish to be flouting.
" So in the end I came to be A doubter of my doubting.
Now I am old, with steps inclined To hesitate and falter; I find I get such peace of mind Just sitting by an altar.
So Friends, don't scorn the family pew, The preachments of the kirks: Religion may be false or true, But by the Lord!--it works.


by Robert William Service | |

Prayer

 You talk o' prayer an' such -
Well, I jest don't know how;
I guess I got as much
Religion as a cow.
I fight an' drink an' swear; Red hell I often raise, But never said a prayer In all my days.
I'm honest, right enough; Don't take no stock in crimes; I'm jest a dockside tough, An' yet .
.
.
an' yet sometimes, If I should happen by A church-door open wide The chances are that I Will sneak inside.
It's kin o' peaceful there, Jest sittin' in a pew; There's sompin' in the air That rests me through an' through; It does me heaps o' good To see them candles glow, So soothin' to the mood .
.
.
Why? - I don't know.
Unless that sittin' still Can be a kind o' prayer; My heart jest seems to fill Wi' peace .
.
.
Oh, God don't care For guys the likes o' me; I just ain't in His line: But when the Cross I see, I make the sign.


by Percy Bysshe Shelley | |

English In 1819

 An old, mad, blind, despised, and dying king,-- 
Princes, the dregs of their dull race, who 
Through public scorn,--mud from a muddy spring,-- 
Rulers who neither see, nor feel, nor know, 
But leech-like to their fainting country cling, 
Till they drop, blind in blood, without a blow,-- 
A people starved and stabbed in the untilled field,-- 
An army, which liberticide and prey 
Makes as a two-edged sword to all who wield,-- 
Golden and sanguine laws which tempt and slay; 
Religion Christless, Godless--a book sealed; 
A Senate, Time's worst statute unrepealed,-- 
Are graves, from which a glorious Phantom may 
Burst, to illumine our tempestuous day.


by William Blake | |

The Book of Urizen: Preludium

 Of the primeval Priests assum'd power,
When Eternals spurn'd back his religion;
And gave him a place in the north,
Obscure, shadowy, void, solitary.
Eternals I hear your call gladly, Dictate swift winged words, & fear not To unfold your dark visions of torment.


by Robinson Jeffers | |

Cassandra

 The mad girl with the staring eyes and long white fingers
Hooked in the stones of the wall,
The storm-wrack hair and screeching mouth: does it matter, Cassandra,
Whether the people believe
Your bitter fountain? Truly men hate the truth, they'd liefer
Meet a tiger on the road.
Therefore the poets honey their truth with lying; but religion— Vendors and political men Pour from the barrel, new lies on the old, and are praised for kind Wisdom.
Poor bitch be wise.
No: you'll still mumble in a corner a crust of truth, to men And gods disgusting—you and I, Cassandra.


by David Lehman | |

A Quick One Before I Go

 There comes a time in every man's life 
when he thinks: I have never had a single 
original thought in my life 
including this one & therefore I shall 
eliminate all ideas from my poems 
which shall consist of cats, rice, rain 
baseball cards, fire escapes, hanging plants 
red brick houses where I shall give up booze 
and organized religion even if it means 
despair is a logical possibility that can't 
be disproved I shall concentrate on the five 
senses and what they half perceive and half 
create, the green street signs with white 
letters on them the body next to mine 
asleep while I think these thoughts 
that I want to eliminate like nostalgia
0 was there ever a man who felt as I do 
like a pronoun out of step with all the other 
floating signifiers no things but in words 
an orange T-shirt a lime green awning


by Vachel Lindsay | |

Love and Law

 TRUE Love is founded in rocks of Remembrance 
In stones of Forbearance and mortar of pain.
The workman lays wearily granite on granite, And bleeds for his castle, 'mid sunshine and rain.
Love is not velvet, not all of it velvet, Not all of it banners, not gold-leaf alone.
'Tis stern as the ages and old as Religion.
With Patience its watchword and Law for its throne.