Tag: trail

Another hymn for Maundy Thursday from Marjorie Dobson

Another hymn for Maundy Thursday from Marjorie Dobson (see also 'A towel and a basin')

1	At the table of communion 
	Jesus spoke with heavy heart 
	of the pain of separation, 
	soon to tear them all apart.
	Listening without understanding, 
	too absorbed with food and wine, 
	carefree friends could read no meaning 
	in his simple words and sign.
	
2	Bread was broken, as his body:  
	wine, a symbol of his blood. 
	Yet his call to keep that memory 
	was not clearly understood.
	Judas left, but no one noticed, 
	thought his business was his own.
	Jesus, looking round the table, 
	knew himself to be alone.
	
3	As they sang their psalm that evening, 
	then went out into the night 
	innocent of apprehension, 
	unprepared for fear or flight, 
	how their hopes and dreams were shattered, 
	confidence was turned to dread 
	and as chaos ruled around them, 
	one by one they turned and fled.
	
4	As they witnessed pain and horror-
	trial, cross and guarded tomb-
	they remembered Jesus' warning 
	given in that upper room.
	Struggling hard to find the meaning, 
	in symbolic word and sign. 
	they would find that same communion 
	we still share in bread and wine.

Marjorie Dobson (born 1940)
Words © 2019 © Stainer & Bell Ltd, London, England copyright@stainer.co.uk . Please include any reproduction for local church use on your CCL Licence returns. All wider and any commercial use requires prior application to Stainer & Bell Ltd.
Metre: 8 7 8 7 8 7 8 7
Tunes: DIM OND IESU; LEWIS FOLK MELODY
From UNRAVELLING THE MYSTERIES, along with poems and other readings.

The Way to the Cross – from Bethlehem to Calvary and Beyond – A Hymn

When Jesus came to Bethlehem there was no harsh a day, 
they say a census had been called, there was no place to stay;
this baby who would shake the world, would first lay down his head, 
not in a royal house or hall, but in a manger bed.
	
When Jesus went to Nazareth his father had a trade, 
a carpenter now had a son and business plans were laid;
but soon within the temple courts, this lad would have his way, 
dissenting from his parents' wish, they'd looked for him all day.
	
The path that he set out to tread from Jordan's crowded bank
would take him him through a wilderness with neither power nor rank; 
returning he would scourge the ones and verbally deride
a viper's brood, these hypocrites, who dressed themselves in pride.
	
Returning to Jerusalem, but not in regal dress, 
he's seated on a donkey's back, not here to rule or bless;
the temple tables were upturned, but more disturbing still, 
his challenge to authority would cause the air to chill.
	
That chill was in Gethsemane when he knelt down to pray, 
and all the pain of all the world  seared through him on that day; 
the time of crisis had arrived to turn from what was right,
or walk with soldiers on to what now looked like endless night.
	
The trial came and ones that he had scourged with words scourged him, 
and this was brutal vengeance now, not wondrous, simply grim:
his flesh was ripped, his sinews torn, his body hung to dry, 
and as the darkness gathered round the whole world seemed to sigh.
	
That ragged child that Mary bore was taken from the tree, 
the women waited through three days, covertly went to see:
they found the tomb was empty now, the one they sought had gone, 
and as they raced in fear away, the mystery lingered on.  
	
Yet through two thousand years and more the influence of that man
has rippled down through history from where it first began; 
his spirit stills inspires a faith that trusts to what is right, 
to seek for truth, to live in love, keep justice burning bright.

Andrew E Pratt (born 1948)
Words © 2015 © Stainer & Bell Ltd, London, England copyright@stainer.co.uk . 
Please include any reproduction for local church use on your CCL Licence returns. 
All wider and any commercial use requires prior application to Stainer & Bell Ltd.
Metre: 14 14 14 14 
Tune: THE LINCOLNSHIRE POACHER
Written at the request of the Rev’d Dr John Parry