कविता – प्रार्थना कि निशी – लक्ष्मी प्रसाद देवकोटा

लक्ष्मी प्रसाद देवकोटा

लक्ष्मी प्रसाद देवकोटा


पलक निमीलित आज निशि,
प्रार्थना छन् सलिलदृशी !


दुइटा उडुकण ढुल्कन्छन्
बादलपरेला छिचली !


निश्चल, निस्पन्द !
श्वासबन्द !


क्षणकन पार्छिन् अनन्त–दर्पण !
अर्पण !


निभिरहेछ संसार उनको !
उडिरहेछ नीरव,
दुइटा पखेटा क्रन्दनको !


बज्दछ अश्रुतबीच मसिनो
मनको तार !
अन्तर–श्वसनकनको परी प्रहार !
“ए ! सुन्दर !
एक किरण !
अमृत मुहार ! ……….”


जीवन घडीजस्तो छ !
व्यष्टि, समष्टि !
घडीका सूईका दुई हात
जोर्छिन् शिरमा, रात !
आँखा मुदी,
माग्छिन् प्रभात !

The Suicide’s Soliloquy Abraham Loncoln 

Here, where the lonely hooting owl 

Sends forth his midnight moans, 

Fierce wolves shall o’er my carcase growl, 

Or buzzards pick my bones. 
No fellow-man shall learn my fate, 

Or where my ashes lie; 

Unless by beasts drawn round their bait, 

Or by the ravens’ cry. 
Yes! I’ve resolved the deed to do, 

And this the place to do it: 

This heart I’ll rush a dagger through, 

Though I in hell should rue it! 
Hell! What is hell to one like me 

Who pleasures never know; 

By friends consigned to misery, 

By hope deserted too? 
To ease me of this power to think, 

That through my bosom raves, 

I’ll headlong leap from hell’s high brink, 

And wallow in its waves. 
Though devils yell, and burning chains 

May waken long regret; 

Their frightful screams, and piercing pains, 

Will help me to forget. 
Yes! I’m prepared, through endless night, 

To take that fiery berth! 

Think not with tales of hell to fright 

Me, who am damn’d on earth! 
Sweet steel! come forth from your sheath, 

And glist’ning, speak your powers; 

Rip up the organs of my breath, 

And draw my blood in showers! 
I strike! It quivers in that heart 

Which drives me to this end; 

I draw and kiss the bloody dart, 

My last—my only friend!

My Childhood Home I See Again – Abraham Lincoln 

My childhood’s home I see again, 
And sadden with the view; 

And still, as memory crowds my brain, 

There’s pleasure in it too. 
O Memory! thou midway world 

‘Twixt earth and paradise, 

Where things decayed and loved ones lost 

In dreamy shadows rise, 
And, freed from all that’s earthly vile, 

Seem hallowed, pure, and bright, 

Like scenes in some enchanted isle 

All bathed in liquid light. 
As dusky mountains please the eye 

When twilight chases day; 

As bugle-tones that, passing by, 

In distance die away; 
As leaving some grand waterfall, 

We, lingering, list its roar– 

So memory will hallow all 

We’ve known, but know no more. 
Near twenty years have passed away 

Since here I bid farewell 

To woods and fields, and scenes of play, 

And playmates loved so well. 
Where many were, but few remain 

Of old familiar things; 

But seeing them, to mind again 

The lost and absent brings. 
The friends I left that parting day, 

How changed, as time has sped! 

Young childhood grown, strong manhood gray, 

And half of all are dead. 
I hear the loved survivors tell 

How nought from death could save, 

Till every sound appears a knell, 

And every spot a grave. 
I range the fields with pensive tread, 

And pace the hollow rooms, 

And feel (companion of the dead) 

I’m living in the tombs. 
But here’s an object more of dread 

Than ought the grave contains– 

A human form with reason fled, 

While wretched life remains. 
Poor Matthew! Once of genius bright, 

A fortune-favored child– 

Now locked for aye, in mental night, 

A haggard mad-man wild. 
Poor Matthew! I have ne’er forgot, 

When first, with maddened will, 

Yourself you maimed, your father fought, 

And mother strove to kill; 
When terror spread, and neighbors ran, 

Your dange’rous strength to bind; 

And soon, a howling crazy man 

Your limbs were fast confined. 
How then you strove and shrieked aloud, 

Your bones and sinews bared; 

And fiendish on the gazing crowd, 

With burning eye-balls glared– 
And begged, and swore, and wept and prayed 

With maniac laught[ter?] joined– 

How fearful were those signs displayed 

By pangs that killed thy mind! 
And when at length, tho’ drear and long, 

Time smoothed thy fiercer woes, 

How plaintively thy mournful song 

Upon the still night rose. 
I’ve heard it oft, as if I dreamed, 

Far distant, sweet, and lone– 

The funeral dirge, it ever seemed 

Of reason dead and gone. 
To drink it’s strains, I’ve stole away, 

All stealthily and still, 

Ere yet the rising God of day 

Had streaked the Eastern hill. 
Air held his breath; trees, with the spell, 

Seemed sorrowing angels round, 

Whose swelling tears in dew-drops fell 

Upon the listening ground. 
But this is past; and nought remains, 

That raised thee o’er the brute. 

Thy piercing shrieks, and soothing strains, 

Are like, forever mute. 
Now fare thee well–more thou the cause, 

Than subject now of woe. 

All mental pangs, by time’s kind laws, 

Hast lost the power to know. 
O death! Thou awe-inspiring prince, 

That keepst the world in fear; 

Why dost thos tear more blest ones hence, 

And leave him ling’ring here?

Poem -Hymn III: All That Pass By, To Jesus Draw Near – John Wesley 

All that pass by, To Jesus draw near, 

He utters a cry, Ye sinners, give ear! 

From hell to retrieve you He spreads out his hands; 

Now, now to receive you, He graciously stands. 
If any man thirst, And happy would be, 

The vilest and worst May come unto me, 

May drink of my Spirit, Excepted is none, 

Lay claim to my merit, And take for his own. 
Whoever receives The life-giving word, 

In Jesus believes, His God and his Lord, 

In him a pure river Of life shall arise, 

Shall in the believer Spring up to the skies. 
My God and my Lord! Thy call I obey, 

My soul on thy word Of promise I stay, 

Thy kind invitation I gladly embrace, 

Athirst for salvation, Salvation by grace. 
O hasten the hour! Send down from above 

The Spirit of power, Of health, and of love, 

Of filial fear, Of knowledge and grace, 

Of wisdom and prayer, Of joy and of praise; 

The Spirit of faith, Of faith in thy blood, 

Which saves us from wrath, And brings us to God, 

Removes the huge mountain Of indwelling sin, 

And opens a fountain That washes us clean.

 Poem – Hymn II: Come, Sinners, To The Gospel Feast – John Wesley

Come, sinners, to the gospel feast, 

Let every soul be Jesu’s guest; 

Ye need not one be left behind, 

For God hath bidden all mankind. 
Sent by my Lord, on you I call, 

The invitation is to ALL: 

Come, all the world; come, sinner, thou! 

All things in Christ are ready now. 
Come, all ye souls by sin opprest, 

Ye restless wanderers after rest, 

Ye poor, and maimed, and halt, and blind, 

In Christ a hearty welcome find. 
Come, and partake the gospel feast; 

Be saved from sin; in Jesus rest; 

O taste the goodness of your God, 

And eat his flesh, and drink his blood! 
Ye vagrant souls, on you I call; 

(O that my voice could reach you all!) 

Ye all may now be justified, 

Ye all may live, for Christ hath died. 
My message as from God receive, 

Ye all may come to Christ, and live; 

O let his love your hearts constrain, 

Nor suffer him to die in vain! 
His love is mighty to compel; 

His conquering love consent to feel, 

Yield to his love’s resistless power, 

And fight against your God no more. 
See him set forth before your eyes, 

That precious, bleeding sacrifice! 

His offered benefits embrace, 

And freely now be saved by grace. 
This is the time; no more delay! 

This is the acceptable day, 

Come in, this moment, at his call, 

And live for him who died for all.
by John Wesley

Poem – Hymn I: O For A Thousand Tongues To Sing – John Wesley

O for a thousand tongues to sing 

My great Redeemer’s praise, 

The glories of my God and King, 

The triumphs of his grace! 
My gracious Master and my God, 

Assist me to proclaim, 

To spread through all the earth abroad 

The honours of thy name. 
Jesus! the name that charms our fears, 

That bids our sorrows cease; 

‘Tis music in the sinner’s ears, 

‘Tis life, and health, and peace. 
He breaks the power of cancelled sin, 

He sets the prisoner free; 

His blood can make the foulest clean, 

His blood availed for me. 
He speaks, and, listening to his voice, 

New life the dead receive, 

The mournful, broken hearts rejoice, 

The humble poor believe. 
Hear him, ye deaf; his praise, ye dumb, 

Your loosened tongues employ; 

Ye blind, behold your Saviour come, 

And leap, ye lame, for joy. 
Look unto him, ye nations, own 

Your God, ye fallen race; 

Look, and be saved through faith alone, 

Be justified by grace. 
See all your sins on Jesus laid: 

The Lamb of God was slain, 

His soul was once an offering made 

For every soul of man. 
Awake from guilty nature’s sleep, 

And Christ shall give you light, 

Cast all your sins into the deep, 

And wash the Æthiop white. 
With me, your chief, ye then shall know, 

Shall feel your sins forgiven; 

Anticipate your heaven below, 

And own that love is heaven.
by John Wesley

Poem – Hymn: Thou Hidden Love Of God – John Wesley

Thou hidden love of God, whose height, 

Whose depth unfathom’d no man knows, 

I see from far thy beauteous light, 

Inly I sigh for thy repose; 

My heart is pain’d, nor can it be 

At rest, till it finds rest in thee. 
Thy secret voice invites me still, 

The sweetness of thy yoke to prove: 

And fain I would: but tho’ my will 

Seem fix’d, yet wide my passions rove; 

Yet hindrances strew all the way; 

I aim at thee, yet from thee stray. 
‘Tis mercy all, that thou hast brought 

My mind to seek her peace in thee; 

Yet while I seek, but find thee not, 

No peace my wand’ring soul shall see; 

O when shall all my wand’rings end, 

And all my steps to thee-ward tend! 
Is there a thing beneath the sun 

That strives with thee my heart to share? 

Ah! tear it thence, and reign alone, 

The Lord of ev’ry motion there; 

Then shall my heart from earth be free, 

When it hath found repose in thee. 
O hide this self from me, that I 

No more, but Christ in me may live; 

My vile affections crucify, 

Nor let one darling lust survive; 

In all things nothing may I see, 

Nothing desire or seek but thee. 
O Love, thy sov’reign aid impart, 

To save me from low-thoughted care: 

Chase this self-will thro’ all my heart, 

Thro’ all its latent mazes there: 

Make me thy duteous child, that I 

Ceaseless may Abba, Father, cry! 
Ah no! ne’er will I backward turn: 

Thine wholly, thine alone I am! 

Thrice happy he who views with scorn 

Earth’s toys, for thee his constant flame; 

O help that I may never move 

From the blest footsteps of thy love! 
Each moment draw from earth away 

My heart that lowly waits thy call: 

Speak to my inmost soul, and say, 

I am thy love, thy God, thy all! 

To feel thy power, to hear thy voice, 

To taste thy love, be all my choice.