My Theory of Celtic Music

You’d never suspect an American

of German descent as the origin

of a theory of Celtic music modes.

But I hear a lot while traveling the roads.

Type One Celtic tunes seem the most frequent.

Siúil A Rún is one song of this accent:

“Woe unto us, the day’s whole duration,

for our lives are filled with tribulation.”

Type Two overcomes the pain, dries the tears.

Dúlamán, for example, eases fears

of starvation. “Despite tribulation,

we Celts yet remain a happy nation.”

Type Three is more rare: The Celts go to war.

Amhrán na bhFiann says they’ll take it no more.

“Enough of your bloody tribulation:

Now, we’re here to return the donation!”

But is there Type Four? I hear one more tone.

Be Thou My Vision and In Christ Alone

both proclaim an end to tribulation,

celebrate God’s eternal salvation!

These themes exist, alone or together,

in music I’ve heard. I don’t know whether

there is value in this odd paradigm,

but I like all four types, just any time.

Copyright ©2018, Paul H. Harder II

This poem is licensed under a Creative Commons BY-NC-ND 4.0 License.

A good search engine will let you hear the Gaelic songs and see their English translations.

Pronunciation Guide:

• Siúil A Rún: “shool ah roon”
• Dúlamán: “doo la mahn”
• Amhrán na bhFiann: “aw-rawn na veen”

A Jesus to Talk About

When you started your heroic journey,

Satan arrived with a serious worry,

a border guard, trying to bar your way,

frantically seeking to make you obey.

He already knew all that was at stake:

If you could succeed, Death himself would quake.

Guilt and Shame would flee, wailing in disgrace.

Injustice would be revealed, face to face

with the eternal Judge.

But you named helpers, a dozen in all,

and set out on your way; issued your call

to a new approach, new way of living,

neither grabbing in greed nor cowering

in fear; no way of reproach, but giving;

not forgetting wrongs, but yet forgiving.

You told us the bitter truth of our soul,

but then you forgave us, marking us whole

in the view of the Judge.

After three years of courageous questing,

came the moment of ultimate testing.

Your pageantry, entering the city,

fairly shouted to all the committee

of Evil, "Here I come -- now do your worst!"

They heard you clearly as a loud outburst,

decided it was time to take you down,

destroy your name, put you into the ground.

They thought they were the Judge.

You knew what they did -- your anger was just.

But so few agreed to do what they must.

Thus started your own dark night of the soul.

You wept for our loss, felt all of it whole,

then waived exemption from what was to come.

When your enemies came, you didn't succumb

to fear. You knew they could cause you no loss.

You practically jumped up onto that cross,

died... lived... were crowned as Judge!

Copyright ©2018, Paul H. Harder II

This poem is licensed under a Creative Commons BY-NC-ND 4.0 License.

Sabbath Rest

After six days of world creation,
God sat down for the first sabbath rest.
He viewed; then said, in admiration,
"Would you look at that! It's all the best."

The small word "rest" has many senses.
We often mean "get past being tired".
Another, “stop”, can switch our tenses,
look back, and see what can be admired.

That's what He meant in the fourth command.
Was God exhausted and had to nap?
No, He stopped to review all that He'd planned,
survey His successes, do a recap.

"Rest" just means "stop”. Take time for a break.
Consider the week. Give God your praise.
Thank Him for joys and share every ache.
Get all charged up for the next six days.

Copyright ©2018, Paul H. Harder II

This poem is licensed under a Creative Commons BY-NC-ND 4.0 License.