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Jimmy Hegan May 2016
When  none was found to ransom me, He was found worthy.
To set world of sinners free, He was found worthy.

Oh, the bleeding Lamb ! Oh, the bleeding Lamb !
Oh , the bleeding Lamb , He was found worthy.
To take the book and loose the seal , He was found worthy.
To bruise the head that bruised His heel , He was found worthy.
To bridge the gulf'twixt man and God, He was found worthy.
And save the rebels by His blood, He was found worthy.
To open wide the gates of heaven , He was found worthy.
To Him all Majesty is given , He was found worthy.
To reign o'er all the ransomed race, He was found worthy.
I've  tasted of His saving grace, He was found worthy.
His blood has  washed me white as snow, He was found worthy.
And to His fulness I shall grow, He was found worthy.
ShowYouLove  May 2018
Un(Worthy)
ShowYouLove May 2018
My Lord and my God I am so unworthy
A sinner for all of my days
What did I do to deserve your love
When I deserve death
You died for me you love me wholly
You cleanse my soul and make me holy
By your perfect love you deem me worthy
To be with you eternally in love
You call me your friend, you call me your child
No longer slaves but free from the chains
From my sin and shame you restore me
You raise me up from the mire
Grant me Oh Lord a penitent heart
That I may turn from my ways and die to myself
In dying, you come alive in me
By rising I am born again into new life
You are worthy of all my praise and thanksgiving
You are the reason I am still living
You are worthy of all my love and affection
You are worthy of all my prayer and adoration
You deem me worthy to shine your light
You deem me worthy to listen and write
You deem me worthy to be your child
You deem me worthy of your love
You deem me worthy to be your Lamb
You deem me worthy and though unworthy it is enough
Thank you Oh Lord my God and have mercy on my soul
Help me turn my heart to you and so live in your perfect love
Amen
thepoeticwit  Aug 2021
Worthy!
thepoeticwit Aug 2021
My eyes have encompassed all the world
Surveying its glory and splendour
Civilisations advance
Society cultivating cultures
Technology, created and innovated
By human beings being knowledgeable
Expanding capacity, capital, territory
In terror, losing identity
Working, moving, breathing
They cry

“Worthy!”
But is this worthy?

My eyes have encompassed all the earth
Surveying her beauty, her majesty
Mountains, hills, and forests of lush green
Beasts and creatures of all shapes and sizes
Oceans, seas, rivers, clear blue sky
They all seem to cry

“Worthy!”
Is there more to this?

My eyes gaze into the heavens
Pondering all their mysteries
Planets, systems, billions of stars
Galaxies upon galaxies lightyears afar

And I hear in the distance
Echoes of angels and heavenly hosts
Thrones, dominions, powers, rulers
Saints and elders around a radiant throne

They all cry
“Worthy!”

I bow my head in awe
And in silence reflected
What the measure of a man is worth
In the grand scheme of things
Where one exists amidst seven billion
Working tirelessly to no end
Amid a vast and glorious creation
Which will all draw to an end

Am I worthy?

And I hear in the distance
The one called Worthy seated on the throne
Calls out to me

“From the dust have I fashioned you
Formed you into My image
From the lowliest estate have I given you
Heavenly heritage
My child
Once an outsider, an enemy
have I bought you with my shed blood.

You are made worthy
For I am Worthy
As with all who are Mine.

So define not your worth on futile things
Or others who lack the clarity to see
You are worthy
As I am Worthy

Worry not your worth
Which is found only
in Me”.
On the worth we place on the world, and on ourselves.
Bea De Vera  Dec 2014
Worthy
Bea De Vera Dec 2014
All of us are worthy of something

Worthy of happiness,
Worthy of fortune,
Worthy of hope,
Worthy of help,
Worthy of love

We do not choose who makes us worthy of those things,
They determine if we are worth it.
Why think you worthy, why think you of any,
any worth.
You think because you hold her heart, you have
Worth.
You do not hold her heart, you squeeze the she
Heart
Blood red upon the shelf, as safe keeping,
Bidding,
Bidding the time when you wish to pet it.

But worthy, you are not worthy.
But you think not of the worth of a woman,
But of the worth of a woman speared upon your,
*****.
How she would lay in the light of your bed, and your
Eyes
Upon her
Would make her worth,
Would make her worthy
Of you.
But you are not worthy, you are not worthy of her
Shimmer,
Her joyous shine and the glow of her hair in her
Recline.
She allows your eyes upon her to take the glory
That you rest upon her in your unguarded truce.
You have, not idea the power in her radiance ,but the world,
The world knows her worth,
As you in your un-keen eye light upon a beauty you think is
Yours,
Not yours.
You are not worthy,
You are not worthy.
WHEN that Aprilis, with his showers swoot,                       *sweet
The drought of March hath pierced to the root,
And bathed every vein in such licour,
Of which virtue engender'd is the flower;
When Zephyrus eke with his swoote breath
Inspired hath in every holt
and heath                    grove, forest
The tender croppes
and the younge sun                    twigs, boughs
Hath in the Ram  his halfe course y-run,
And smalle fowles make melody,
That sleepen all the night with open eye,
(So pricketh them nature in their corages
);       hearts, inclinations
Then longe folk to go on pilgrimages,
And palmers  for to seeke strange strands,
To *ferne hallows couth
  in sundry lands;     distant saints known
And specially, from every shire's end
Of Engleland, to Canterbury they wend,
The holy blissful Martyr for to seek,
That them hath holpen, when that they were sick.                helped

Befell that, in that season on a day,
In Southwark at the Tabard  as I lay,
Ready to wenden on my pilgrimage
To Canterbury with devout corage,
At night was come into that hostelry
Well nine and twenty in a company
Of sundry folk, by aventure y-fall            who had by chance fallen
In fellowship, and pilgrims were they all,           into company.
That toward Canterbury woulde ride.
The chamber, and the stables were wide,
And well we weren eased at the best.            we were well provided
And shortly, when the sunne was to rest,                  with the best

So had I spoken with them every one,
That I was of their fellowship anon,
And made forword* early for to rise,                            promise
To take our way there as I you devise
.                describe, relate

But natheless, while I have time and space,
Ere that I farther in this tale pace,
Me thinketh it accordant to reason,
To tell you alle the condition
Of each of them, so as it seemed me,
And which they weren, and of what degree;
And eke in what array that they were in:
And at a Knight then will I first begin.

A KNIGHT there was, and that a worthy man,
That from the time that he first began
To riden out, he loved chivalry,
Truth and honour, freedom and courtesy.
Full worthy was he in his Lorde's war,
And thereto had he ridden, no man farre
,                       farther
As well in Christendom as in Heatheness,
And ever honour'd for his worthiness
At Alisandre  he was when it was won.
Full often time he had the board begun
Above alle nations in Prusse.
In Lettowe had he reysed,
and in Russe,                      journeyed
No Christian man so oft of his degree.
In Grenade at the siege eke had he be
Of Algesir, and ridden in Belmarie.
At Leyes was he, and at Satalie,
When they were won; and in the Greate Sea
At many a noble army had he be.
At mortal battles had he been fifteen,
And foughten for our faith at Tramissene.
In listes thries, and aye slain his foe.
This ilke
worthy knight had been also                         same
Some time with the lord of Palatie,
Against another heathen in Turkie:
And evermore *he had a sovereign price
.            He was held in very
And though that he was worthy he was wise,                 high esteem.

And of his port as meek as is a maid.
He never yet no villainy ne said
In all his life, unto no manner wight.
He was a very perfect gentle knight.
But for to telle you of his array,
His horse was good, but yet he was not gay.
Of fustian he weared a gipon,                            short doublet
Alle besmotter'd with his habergeon,     soiled by his coat of mail.
For he was late y-come from his voyage,
And wente for to do his pilgrimage.

With him there was his son, a younge SQUIRE,
A lover, and a ***** bacheler,
With lockes crulle* as they were laid in press.                  curled
Of twenty year of age he was I guess.
Of his stature he was of even length,
And *wonderly deliver
, and great of strength.      wonderfully nimble
And he had been some time in chevachie,                  cavalry raids
In Flanders, in Artois, and Picardie,
And borne him well, as of so little space,      in such a short time
In hope to standen in his lady's grace.
Embroider'd was he, as it were a mead
All full of freshe flowers, white and red.
Singing he was, or fluting all the day;
He was as fresh as is the month of May.
Short was his gown, with sleeves long and wide.
Well could he sit on horse, and faire ride.
He coulde songes make, and well indite,
Joust, and eke dance, and well pourtray and write.
So hot he loved, that by nightertale                        night-time
He slept no more than doth the nightingale.
Courteous he was, lowly, and serviceable,
And carv'd before his father at the table.

A YEOMAN had he, and servants no mo'
At that time, for him list ride so         it pleased him so to ride
And he was clad in coat and hood of green.
A sheaf of peacock arrows bright and keen
Under his belt he bare full thriftily.
Well could he dress his tackle yeomanly:
His arrows drooped not with feathers low;
And in his hand he bare a mighty bow.
A nut-head  had he, with a brown visiage:
Of wood-craft coud* he well all the usage:                         knew
Upon his arm he bare a gay bracer
,                        small shield
And by his side a sword and a buckler,
And on that other side a gay daggere,
Harnessed well, and sharp as point of spear:
A Christopher on his breast of silver sheen.
An horn he bare, the baldric was of green:
A forester was he soothly
as I guess.                        certainly

There was also a Nun, a PRIORESS,
That of her smiling was full simple and coy;
Her greatest oathe was but by Saint Loy;
And she was cleped
  Madame Eglentine.                           called
Full well she sang the service divine,
Entuned in her nose full seemly;
And French she spake full fair and fetisly
                    properly
After the school of Stratford atte Bow,
For French of Paris was to her unknow.
At meate was she well y-taught withal;
She let no morsel from her lippes fall,
Nor wet her fingers in her sauce deep.
Well could she carry a morsel, and well keep,
That no droppe ne fell upon her breast.
In courtesy was set full much her lest
.                       pleasure
Her over-lippe wiped she so clean,
That in her cup there was no farthing
seen                       speck
Of grease, when she drunken had her draught;
Full seemely after her meat she raught
:           reached out her hand
And *sickerly she was of great disport
,     surely she was of a lively
And full pleasant, and amiable of port,                     disposition

And pained her to counterfeite cheer              took pains to assume
Of court,* and be estately of mannere,            a courtly disposition
And to be holden digne
of reverence.                            worthy
But for to speaken of her conscience,
She was so charitable and so pitous,
                      full of pity
She woulde weep if that she saw a mouse
Caught in a trap, if it were dead or bled.
Of smalle houndes had she, that she fed
With roasted flesh, and milk, and *wastel bread.
   finest white bread
But sore she wept if one of them were dead,
Or if men smote it with a yarde* smart:                           staff
And all was conscience and tender heart.
Full seemly her wimple y-pinched was;
Her nose tretis;
her eyen gray as glass;               well-formed
Her mouth full small, and thereto soft and red;
But sickerly she had a fair forehead.
It was almost a spanne broad I trow;
For *hardily she was not undergrow
.       certainly she was not small
Full fetis* was her cloak, as I was ware.                          neat
Of small coral about her arm she bare
A pair of beades, gauded all with green;
And thereon hung a brooch of gold full sheen,
On which was first y-written a crown'd A,
And after, *Amor vincit omnia.
                      love conquers all
Another Nun also with her had she,
[That was her chapelleine, and PRIESTES three.]

A MONK there was, a fair for the mast'ry,       above all others
An out-rider, that loved venery;                               *hunting
A manly man, to be an abbot able.
Full many a dainty horse had he in stable:
And when he rode, men might his bridle hear
Jingeling  in a whistling wind as clear,
And eke as loud, as doth the chapel bell,
There as this lord was keeper of the cell.
The rule of Saint Maur and of Saint Benet,
Because that it was old and somedeal strait
This ilke
monk let olde thinges pace,                             same
And held after the newe world the trace.
He *gave not of the text a pulled hen,
                he cared nothing
That saith, that hunters be not holy men:                  for the text

Ne that a monk, when he is cloisterless;
Is like to a fish that is waterless;
This is to say, a monk out of his cloister.
This ilke text held he not worth an oyster;
And I say his opinion was good.
Why should he study, and make himselfe wood                   *mad
Upon a book in cloister always pore,
Or swinken
with his handes, and labour,                           toil
As Austin bid? how shall the world be served?
Let Austin have his swink to him reserved.
Therefore he was a prickasour
aright:                       hard rider
Greyhounds he had as swift as fowl of flight;
Of pricking
and of hunting for the hare                         riding
Was all his lust,
for no cost would he spare.                 pleasure
I saw his sleeves *purfil'd at the hand       *worked at the end with a
With gris,
and that the finest of the land.          fur called "gris"
And for to fasten his hood under his chin,
He had of gold y-wrought a curious pin;
A love-knot in the greater end there was.
His head was bald, and shone as any glass,
And eke his face, as it had been anoint;
He was a lord full fat and in good point;
His eyen steep,
and rolling in his head,                      deep-set
That steamed as a furnace of a lead.
His bootes supple, his horse in great estate,
Now certainly he was a fair prelate;
He was not pale as a forpined
ghost;                            wasted
A fat swan lov'd he best of any roast.
His palfrey was as brown as is a berry.

A FRIAR there was, a wanton and a merry,
A limitour , a full solemne man.
In all the orders four is none that can
                          knows
So much of dalliance and fair language.
He had y-made full many a marriage
Of younge women, at his owen cost.
Unto his order he was a noble post;
Full well belov'd, and familiar was he
With franklins *over all
in his country,                   everywhere
And eke with worthy women of the town:
For he had power of confession,
As said himselfe, more than a curate,
For of his order he was licentiate.
Full sweetely heard he confession,
And pleasant was his absolution.
He was an easy man to give penance,
There as he wist to have a good pittance:      *where he know
Rai  Jan 2013
Be I Worthy
Rai Jan 2013
Be I worthy
To hold my head above the clouds in your eyes
In a sky blue horizon
She sips nectar with the
Hummingbird queen
In moments of gentle surrender
But still I ask
Am I worthy
To watch upon thee
In these moments so sublimely tender
Spiraling tears of court room jesters
To old to perform
To young to die
Be I worthy
To hold the jewels which bind thee
To the ground
With which you freely walk
See her watching the waves
Which beckon her fate
Sweet necter of a dawn so new
Crystalised in the breathe of angels
Breath upon my cheek before I fall
Sweet mother of life itself
I be worthy
I have never been so sure
You aren't like the others,
they deserve much better,
you are not worthy.

They wear silk robes,
and other fancy clothes,
you are not worthy.

Under the hot sun,
you become no one,
you are not worthy.

Move the mud and sand,
and mix it all by hand,
you are not worthy.

Whips crack down on your backs,
you use the energy you lack,
to fight forward.
Moving blocks of sandstone,
you work together, die alone,
don't say a word.

You build for Pharaoh,
and because you know,
you are not worthy.

You migrated here for hope,
but all hope was lost,
when you were enslaved.

Whips crack down on your backs,
you use the energy you lack,
to fight forward.
Moving blocks of sandstone,
you work together, die alone,
don't say a word.

Whips crack and skin tears,
cries go unheard.
People walk by and stare,
men stand in herds.
Beat them till no one cares,
slaves have no worth.
Copyright Barry Pietrantonio
Arwen  Jun 2016
Never Worthy
Arwen Jun 2016
Did you ever just once
stand in front of a mirror
and actually see the pain
reflected in your eyes?
Behind this pain lies
many years of feeling
that you are never worthy;
never worthy of ever being
loved by that one special
someone that you were
supposedly destined to
spend the rest of your
natural life with.

People like this often
regress into a sea of
blackness that they can
never swim out of.  
They are surrounded
by nothing but empty
water filled with
empty promises -
these exact promises
that they desperately
cling to in order
not to drown.

It is ultimately their
choice to brave
these murky waters,
or allow themselves to
be continually trapped
in this Sea of Obscurity.
Even if they can pull
themselves out of this
despair, they still have that
lingering feeling that
they are forever doomed
to live in this constant
state of pain and agony.

These lost spirits just
want and need to feel
like they matter.
They desire to be
accepted and loved
for who they are,
regardless of their
faults and flaws.  
They often times try
too hard to have
others accept them.
However, when they are
overlooked or made to feel like
a speck of dirt on the ground,
they again lose their way.

It is a constant battle that
people face daily if they feel
that they are never worthy –
never deserving to be given a
real chance in life and in love.
They feel unappreciated
and find themselves
questioning their place
In this world.  

Many masque their pain
with poisons that
make them feel numb.  
But, most know that
these elixirs are only
a temporary fix.  
They do not even
know where to start
to fix this internal pain.
All they want is to feel
loved and accepted.

Instead of condoling these
people, help them by not
only extending your hand,
but also by sharing your
heart with them.  
They need to feel that
they are just as worthy
as someone who appears
happy and content with
their own life.  

Help give them a
reason to feel like
they really do matter.
Show them they are not
condemned to a life of
feeling like they
are never worthy of
any joy and love.  

There is hope and promise
for them, and maybe
sooner than later,
these exact same
misguided people
will be able to look
in the mirror and
not dread what they
have seen in the past;
but instead, the mirror
emulates that sparkle
of hope that has been
missing for so long.

Vicki A. Zinn

June 25, 2016
This poem is dedicated to all that have suffered or still continue to suffer with depression.  I personally know how dark this place can be -feeling like you are alone and never deserve to be loved.  

Please know that you are not alone and that there are good people out there that will help you get through whatever has you in such a bad place.  You are deserving of love!

— The End —