One week and two days at seminary.

Seminary looks like seminary.

I've been praying late at night from a little red book called "Hearts on Fire: Praying with the Jesuits." So of course, I am remembering what it is to get goosebumps from Mr. Manley Hopkins. Here is the poem from which this blog derives its title:

The world is charged with the grandeur of God.
It will flame out, like shining from shook foil.
It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil
Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod?
Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;
And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;
And wears man's smudge and share's man's smell: the soil
Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.

And for all this, nature is never spent;
There lives the dearest freshest deep down things;
And though the last lights off the black West went
Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs-
Because the Holy Ghost over the bent
World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.




I LOVE it.

I also love being here.