God's Attributes Poem Quotes

I am the slave of the Master of Prophets And my fealty to him has no beginning. I am a slave of his slave, and of his slave’s slave, And so forth endlessly, For I do not cease to approach the door Of his good pleasure among the beginners. I proclaim among people the teaching of his high attributes, And sing his praises among the poets. Perhaps he shall tell me: “You are a noted friend Of mine, a truly excellent beautifier of my tribute.” Yes, I would sacrifice my soul for the dust of his sanctuary. His favor should be that he accept my sacrifice. He has triumphed who ascribes himself to him! - Not that he needs such following, For he is not in need of creation at all, While they all need him without exception. He belongs to Allah alone, Whose purified servant he is, As his attributes and names have made manifest; And every single favor in creation comes from Allah To him, and from him to everything else.

Call themselves?" asked Yama. "You are wrong, Sam, Godhood is more than a name. It is a condition of being. One does not achieve it merely by being immortal, for even the lowliest laborer in the fields may achieve continuity of existence. Is it then the conditioning of an Aspect? No. Any competent hypnotist can play games with the self-image. Is it the raising up of an Attribute? Of course not. I can design machines more powerful and more accurate than any faculty a man may cultivate. Being a god is the quality of being able to be yourself to such an extent that your passions correspond with the forces of the universe, so that those who look upon you know this without hearing your name spoken. Some ancient poet said that the world is full of echoes and correspondences. Another wrote a long poem of an inferno, wherein each man suffered a torture which coincided in nature with those forces which had ruled his life. Being a god is being able to recognize within one's self these things that are important, and then to strike the single note that brings them into alignment with everything else that exists. Then, beyond morals or logic or esthetics, one is wind or fire, the sea, the mountains, rain, the sun or the stars, the flight of an arrow, the end of a day, the clasp of love. One rules through one's ruling passions. Those who look upon gods then say, without even knowing their names, 'He is Fire. She is Dance. He is Destruction. She is Love.' So, to reply to your statement, they do not call themselves gods. Everyone else does, though, everyone who beholds them." "So they play that on their fascist banjos, eh?" "You choose the wrong adjective." "You've already used up all the others.

A favorite Sufi poem, attributed to Hazrat Inayat Khan, offers a helpful perspective: I asked for strength and God gave me difficulties to make me strong. I asked for wisdom and God gave me problems to learn to solve. I asked for prosperity and God gave me a brain and brawn to work. I asked for courage and God gave me dangers to overcome. I asked for love and God gave me people to help. I asked for favours and God gave me opportunities. I received nothing I wanted. I received everything I needed.

Why did the best Jewish poet of the post-exile generation choose the (probably) Persian fable of Job as the basis for his greatest work? What does the obviously Hebrew poet want to accomplish by presenting Job as an “Everyman” character rather than as a Jew? What does this suggest about the way that the Abrahamic Covenant was understood by at least some people during the Babylonian captivity? What different perspectives do Job’s Comforters represent? Who in the poet’s culture held the views attributed to Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar? Why do Job’s friends hold so firmly to their belief in Job’s guilt? Why are they willing to condemn the man that they came to comfort? What do they consider more important than friendship? Do we ever act like they do? How does the poet want us to answer the question, “Why do people suffer?” How does he not want us to answer this question? Why does the poet represent God at the end of Job as an asker of questions rather than as a giver of answers? Does the God that the poet presents at the end of the poem deserve our respect, or just our fear? Is there a difference? Does the final prose segment of Job undercut the poem? Or does the poem’s rebuttal undercut its ideology so effectively that it becomes ironic? Is it possible to believe in a God of rewards and punishments after reading Job?

What If God Is a Creep? What if God is a creep who wishes He was taller who didn't get the girl who picks on people not His own size? What if God laughed when Jesus had second thoughts? What if His sense of order is no more complex than kids playing King of the Hill or Smear the Queer? What if God is really a creep who beats His wife embezzles when He can and jerks off to violent porn? Perhaps God put Darin on earth to help us understand that the very traits of man which survive the longest and determine the fittest are God's own favorite attributes? Maybe He's a boss who expects favors a professor who makes others feel stupid a witness obstructing justice. What if God is really just a creep? Maybe Machiavelli was His inspired son and The Prince remains our most sacred text. What if Hitler sits at God's right hand tended by a heavenly host of bigots, bullies, soldiers and other serial killers who look to an angel name Manson for advice. A God capable of biological brilliance and genetic genius is no more likely to care about justice and kindness than His creations are. Why assume that God likes women any more than men do? Why imagine He wouldn't hurt His children? God's morality might be just as steeped in struggle as accented by abuse as spiced with exploitation and as baked with brutality as our own common recipes. Drink up. One taste and you are in Heaven. If God really is a creep that certainly would explain a lot.

the beginning God created the heaven and the earth,” the Targum expresseth, “In wisdom God created the heaven and the earth.” Both bear a stamp of this perfection on them;’ and when the apostle tells the Romans (Rom. i. 20) “The invisible things of God were clearly understood by the things that are made.” The whole creation is a poem, every species a stanza, and every individual creature a verse in it. The creation presents us with a prospect of the wisdom of God, as a poem doth the reader with the wit and fancy of the composer: “By wisdom he created the earth” (Prov. iii. 19), “and stretched out the heavens by discretion” (Jer. x. 12). There is not anything so mean, so small, but glitters with a beam of Divine skill; and the consideration of them would justly make every man subscribe to that of the psalmist, “O Lord, how manifold are thy works! in wisdom hast thou made them all” (Ps. civ. 24).

The midnight hand Stands upright, Caught for an instant In the pitching chime Of dead day, The hush cries, freedom! And is strangled in the rush Of tomorrow's potential. The midnight hour, When time is still, A shrill gasp of passion unspent, A sour taste Of bent magic In a god's tragic World.

God is the only object worthy of our love, for He is the True Beloved; every other object of love veils His Face. In describing His Image which they contemplate in their hearts, the Sufis often use terminology pertaining to the primary derivative beloved of the male human being, that is, woman. All the imagery employed by the Persian poets in the ghazal or „love poem“ to praise derivative beloveds takes on a new significance at the hands of the Sufi poets. Again one must keep in mind that this is not a question of poetical convention, since according to Sufi teachings women manifest the divine Attributes of Beauty, Mercy, Gentleness, and Kindness in a relatively direct manner within their outward forms. In Rumi‘s view, their derivative beauty is the closest thing to True Beauty in the material world. For this very reason, the attraction that their beauty exerts upon a man can be one of the greatest obstacles to his spiritual development. As long as he thinks that a woman‘s beauty belongs to her, he will be led astray. But once he is able to see her beauty as the reflection of God‘s Beauty, then his derivative love can be transformed into True Love. (p. 286)

105 Our death is an eternal wedding-feast; what is the secret of this? He is God, One. The sun became dispersed through the windows; the windows became shut, and the numbers departed. Those numbers which existed in the grapes are naughted in the juice which flows from the grapes. Whosoever is living by the light of God, the death of this spirit is replenishment to him. Speak not evil, speak not good regarding those who have passed away from good and evil. Fix your eye on God, and speak not of what you have not seen, that He may implant another eye in your eye. That eye is the eye of the eye, nothing unseen or secret escapes from it. When its gaze is by the Light of God, to such a light what can be hidden? Though all lights are the Light of God, call not all of those the eternal Light. Eternal light is that which is the Light of God, transient light is the attribute of flesh and body. The light in this mortal eye is a fire, save for that eye which God anoints with surmeh {collyrium}. His fire became light for the sake of Abraham; the eye of reason became in quality like the eye of an ass. O God, the bird of the eye which has seen Your bounty flies in Your air. The Pole, he who is the sky of the skies, is on the lookout in search of You; Either grant him vision to see You, or do not dismiss him on account of this fault. Make tearful the eye of your soul every moment, guard it against the snare of human stature and cheek. Eye asleep and yourself wakeful—such a sleep is perfection and rectitude; But the eye asleep that finds no interpretation (of dreams)—expel it from sleep, despite envy. Else it will labour and be boiling in the fire of love of the One, even to the grave.

When reading this unusual novel, then, with its oddly unsettling and sometimes strained combination of Christian and pagan, sacred and profane attributes—its earthiness and surreality, violence and pastoralism, pantheism and anthropomorphism, naturalism and lyricism—it is helpful to remember that Steinbeck invested his essential self in it, which is to say, he wrote it more like an extensive poem, or extended dream sequence, than like a traditionally mimetic or realistic novel. “I have the instincts of a minstrel rather than those of a scrivener,” he informed Grove Day in late 1929. Thus, while To a God Unknown has an urgent, breathless fairy-tale quality, and is, as critic Howard Levant asserts, more “a series of detached... scenes” than “a unified... organic whole,” it is not an incoherent concoction—“a rambling and improbable history,” as Warren French calls It—that flies in the face of all sensible literary convention. During its long gestation through different versions and multiple drafts, Steinbeck worked hard to create a palpable factual dimension that gives this otherwise arcane book a recognizable texture in regard to its geographical setting and landmarks (the moss-covered rock actually existed in the northern California town of Laytonville), its unusual characters (some of whom, such as the seer, Steinbeck claimed were based on living persons), and in its feel for telling details of nature and social life in Monterey County in the early part of this century.