Christ on the Cross
The Nazarene
Christ Is
Christocentricity
It is ever Thus
I Will Go To Galilee
Our Dear Blessed Mother
Good Friday
Iron Nails
Unless otherwise stated, all poetry is the work of Michael Fantina (son)
Christ on the Cross
I dream Christ on the Cross in the gloaming
In winter’s most furious cold,
In that dream I went sighing and roaming,
Through headlands and heath and the world.
And there past the marshes and granges
In farmlands gone sterile, all dross,
My dream like some magic arranges
Christ on the Cross.
These stars and the moon all a beacon
I followed with hunger and thirst.
Odd shadows of evil would weaken
My strength like a man’s who’s accursed.
Wan spirits all bade me to leave here,
In the realm of total chaos,
Yet I’d come in hopes to receive here
Christ on the Cross.
A demon both winsome and daring
Sang songs to beguile and allure.
Her aim of catching, ensnaring
Me, alone, on this dream wrought shore.
Her songs both enchanting, destroying,
And edged with a sinister lust,
Repetitive, cold and annoying,
The value of dust.
“Come away with me at this hour,
To realms both benignant and wild,
For I have the will and the power,
All gods I’ve subdued and defiled.”
I fled from her into the mountains,
To seek for the One, the Logos,
Whose Grace springs anew from pure fountains,
Christ on the Cross.
I wandered and cursed all my thinking
When I found that dark silhouette,
The Cross! I wept in my blinking,
This Cross that will lift all regret!
Then fell on my knees in the gloaming,
And no longer now at a loss,
His mercy in great tides is foaming,
Christ on the Cross!
The Nazarene
Christ’s Cross come save my rock-hard heart,
Let me know anguish and Your pain.
The gift of wisdom then impart,
And let me know that death is slain.
Let me know anguish and Your pain,
Now clean my heart of all that’s cruel,
And let me know that death is slain,
Come make my heart Your own to rule.
Now clean my heart of all that’s cruel,
Fast pull me from the drowning flood,
Come make my heart Your own to rule
Come bathe me in Your precious Blood.
Fast pull me from the drowning flood,
Come lift me from the place of death
Come bathe me in Your precious Blood,
Breathe in me your saving breath.
Come lift me from the place of death,
Fill me with a strong desire,
Breathe in me your saving breath,
Fill me with a holy fire!
Fill me with a strong desire,
Reveal to me what Scripture shows,
Fill me with a holy fire
Where the Blood of Mercy flows.
Reveal to me what Scripture shows,
And let the heat of Love burn strong
Where the Blood of Mercy flows,
And let me raise my voice in song!
And let the heat of Love burn strong,
Give me the Bread that saves and calms,
And let me raise my voice in song
To sing Your Glory in the Psalms!
Give me the Bread that saves and calms,
And let me see your wounded side,
To sing Your Glory in the Psalms,
Your Glory one eternal tide!
And let me see your wounded side,
I tremble at the awful price!
Your Glory one eternal tide,
Our God, our living Sacrifice!
Christ Is
Sweet love and more our Christ is,
His essence as the air,
He cast the stars and numbered
All novas bright or slumbered,
He died, now sin excised is,
His heart to love and share.
Sweet love and more our Christ is
His essence as the air.
Both God and man now Christ is
Though still we’re rife with sin
He weeps that we ignore him,
And curse, rebuke, abhor him,
It seems each heart so iced is,
His patience growing thin.
Both God and man now Christ is
Though still we’re rife with sin.
So vast and mild our Christ is,
He gives to each his breath,
Yet still we groan receiving
His grace though scarce believing,
Our soul so dark, enticed is
By lords of doom and death.
So vast and mild our Christ is,
He gives to each his breath.
Misunderstood our Christ is,
By legions and by me,
We play at love and giving,
Yet hide from life and living,
For pleasure overpriced is,
We drown as in a sea.
Misunderstood our Christ is,
By legions and by me.
Sweet love and more our Christ is,
His essence as the air,
He cast the stars and numbered
All novas bright or slumbered,
He died, now sin excised is,
His heart to love and share.
Sweet love and more our Christ is
His essence as the air.
Christocentricity
Christ in the dawning,
Christ through the day,
Christ in the awning
Of stars on the bay.
Christ on this headland,
Christ in the lea,
Christ heal this dead land;
Christ on the sea!
Christ for the sinner,
Christ at such cost!
Christ for the winner,
Christ for the lost!
Christ for the ages,
Christ for the meek,
Christ for the sages,
Christ for the weak.
Christ for the legions,
Christ at the door,
Christ in all regions,
Christ for the poor.
Christ for all lovers,
Christ suffered pain,
Christ for all others,
Christ for the slain.
Christ for the weary,
Christ for the bold,
Christ for the dreary,
Christ is our gold!
It Is Ever Thus
He went his way on that dim dark day
When the sun in terror shone.
And red with blood, on through the mud
As the frightened wind would moan
And the chant when out, a hellish shout,
At that man both tall and slim
And full of hate they tempted fate
Shouting, “crucify, crucify him!”
With the nails made fast he breathed his last
Tacked to a cruciform tree.
And we mark that day, so far away,
The day he set us all free.
Here we fight for breath, for life and death,
As the storm wind ever blows.
It is ever thus that he died for us
And on the third day rose.
I Will Go to Galilee
I will go to Galilee
And listen to him there.
I will go repeatedly,
Happily, triumphantly,
Pray to him incessantly,
Within that hallowed air.
I will go to Galilee
And kneel before his feet.
Hard by that ancient sacred sea,
The sacred Sea of Galilee,
Listen there most patiently,
To him who is decidedly
Both God and Man complete.
I will go to Galilee,
And walk where he once trod.
I’ll sing out hymns unceasingly,
Most joyously, adoringly,
There give my love unstintingly
There to the Triune God,
In Galilee, in Galilee,
Decidedly, triumphantly,
The Sacred Sea of Galilee.
Our Dear Blessed Lady
by Mary Fantina (daughter)
Dearest Mother, kind and good
Model of all motherhood.
I can see your boundless joy
As you watched your little Boy.
I can feel your pain and grief
As He hung beside the thief.
And I rejoice with you as He
Rose from death to make us free.
And I pray to share His love
As, like you, I dwell above.
Good Friday
I watched them lead him up the hill.
The jeering mob shouts: “kill, kill, kill!”
I mark him stumble and fall down,
Note well his ugly thorny crown.
The blood from it drips most profusely,
The jeering mob jeers on obtusely,
I watch them there break every law,
Astonished then, I watch in awe.
They nail him to a willow cross.
I try to speak, yet at a loss
I’m so like them, each is a fool,
With unrepentant hearts grown cruel,
And then above that raucous fray,
“Father forgive them!” Doth he pray!
He ever lives, eternally,
I know he died for you and me.
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Iron Nails
My pounded iron pierces feet and hands,
Yet hands like none before I’ve known,
Though I am mere metal I’ll intone,
Swiftly, prayers to that Maker of all lands,
He’s here who willed all metals with commands!
Oh, God, my iron scathes you flesh and bone!
Oh, God made man, I pierce you and you groan,
Now this some awful recompense demands!
Yet, no! I see—that is if metal can!—
That by my iron spikes, both sharp and thin,
That He has deigned to die for lowly man,
To save them all and shrive them from their sin!
His blood, red rust, about each wound now pours,
Though I’m iron, yes, but how my spirit soars!