pples of gold in settings of silver:beauty demands a moment to savour.Come, take and eat the food on the salver;duty delights in loving the Saviour.

Such eyes…                all others are sighted stone, old Greeksmade mere memorials, blankly gazing.But these are light on the water, under trees,Alive and laughing.

I have been requested to put online an essay examining whether Christians should have anything to do with the medium of film. Do read it, and feel welcome to comment on the essay or to correct me.

Luke 2.29-32, sometimes called the nunc dimittis from its first two words in Latin, is a beautiful piece of poetry with which Simeon greets the baby Jesus.

At the request of a friend, I have put online an essay in response to the question: “‘Sacrifice and anger are not directly related.’ (Goldingay) Discuss with particular reference to Leviticus.”

A child is divine and children are gods; Intincted with fire and born of sea foam, They rise from the seed of heavens and earth To war against all disputing their rule.

"There remains, then, a Sabbath-rest for the people of God; for anyone who enters God's rest also rests from his own work, just as God did from his." (Hebrews 9.9-10, NIV) The rose unfolds, creation of a world,And, baptised on the rising of the sun,Alight with splendoured loveliness, she restsIn faith, encrimsoned by her dawning [...]

The story is familiar to many of us. Elijah prays in a mountain cave because he thinks God's covenant is in danger of failing because all of God's faithful people but he have been destroyed. Then he listens for God and is at last rewarded by hearing a whisper (sometimes translated as a "still, small voice"). [...]

In the estimation, hear the calculation;In the definition is the proposition:Binding minds with knotted wording,Wrapping, twisting, thought-confining Let our words be free and fluid,Not dividing, undefining.Then our conversation is equivocationAnd origination merely duplication. 

Black and scarlet, in the twilight Were the colours of the creature, Fluttering, flying now no more. Drops of rain had crushed its wings, and Curled them, fading, like the petals Flowers drop when summer comes.