The artwork on the cover of our church bulletin yesterday was “The Star of Bethlehem,” by Edward Burne-Jones (1833-1898), perhaps my favorite of the Pre-Raphaelites. I meant to put a note in the bulletin as to who painted it but I always forget something.
As much as I love Burne-Jones’ paintings and stained glass, it’s hard to beat the Pre-Raphaelite brotherhood founder, Dante Gabriel Rossetti, for his overall bent for things beautiful. I enjoy one statement he wrote as much as his paintings: “The worst moment for the atheist is when he is really thankful and has nobody to thank.”
Then again, it’s tough to beat Rossetti’s teacher, Ford Maddox Brown. Or Holmon Hunt. Or John Everett Millais. …who were (the four of them) together the founders of that grand artistic movement—though Rossetti was its driving force.
I’ve been re-reading some George Herbert lately, as a result of a discussion with my theology professor, Ron Selleck. I started reading Rossetti a bit this morning. Though his work requires more reading (fine reading though) to get beyond his other fascinations with life, when he gets there, it’s worth it.
The Choice – II.
Watch thou and fear; to-morrow thou shalt die.
Or art thou sure thou shalt have time for death?
Is not the day which God’s word promiseth
To come man knows not when? In yonder sky
Now while we speak, the sun speeds forth: can I
Or thou assure him of his goal? God’s breath
Even at this moment haply quickeneth
The air to a flame; till spirits, always nigh
Though screen’d and hid, shall walk the daylight here.
And dost thou prate of all that man shall do?
Canst thou, who hast but plagues, presume to be
Glad in his gladness that comes after thee?
Will his strength slay thy worm in Hell? Go to:
Cover thy countenance, and watch, and fear.
St. Luke the Painter
Give honour unto Luke Evangelist;
For he it was (the aged legends say)
Who first taught Art to fold her hands and pray.
Scarcely at once she dared to rend the mist
Of devious symbols: but soon having wist
How sky-breadth and field-silence and this day
Are symbols also in some deeper way,
She looked through these to God and was God’s priest.
And if, past noon, her toil began to irk,
And she sought talismans, and turned in vain
To soulless self-reflections of man’s skill,
Yet now, in this the twilight, she might still
Kneel in the latter grass to pray again,
Ere the night cometh and she may not work.