Some Christianity, but mostly about hope.
“Bring me my Bow of burning gold!
Bring me my Arrows of desire!
Bring me my Spear! O clouds, unfold!
Bring me my Chariot of fire
“I will not cease in my Mental Flight,
Nor shall my Sword sleep in my hand,
Till be have built Jerusalem
In England’s green and pleasant land.”
When he came to the end Tony suddenly felt shy. He added in a great hurry, “I don’t see how you can build anything with a sword.”
“Well, it isn’t the best of instruments, perhaps, but there are times when it has to be used. Do you remember those men in the Bible who built the walls of the earthly Jerusalem and fought their enemies at the same time, one hand doing the work and the other hand holding a weapon? Doesn’t it say, For the builders, everyone had his sword girded by his side and so builded? Blake may have meant something like that.”
“You can tell me of it presently, if you have time,” said Tony. “I don’t know it. Who were the enemies Blake was fighting?”
“Exactly the same enemies that we’re fighting now, Max: the powers of darkness enslaving the souls of men… Blake’s song isn’t really a song for England alone,” said Dym. “It’s a song for every land. We’re all building the unseen Jerusalem together.”
–Quote from Constance Savery’s Enemy Brothers, Paraphrased in some places.
As long as I can stay angry enough IT can’t get me.
Is that what I have that IT doesn’t have?
“Nonsense,” Charles Wallace said. “You have nothing that IT doesn’t have.”
“You’re lying,” she replied, and she felt only anger toward this boy who was not Charles Wallace at all. No, it was not anger, it was loathing; it was hatred, sheer and unadulterated, and as she became lost in hatred she also began to be lost in IT. The red miasma swam before her eyes; her stomach churned in ITs rhythm. Her body trembled with the strength of her hatred and the strength of IT.
With the last vestige of consciousness she jerked her mind and body. Hate was nothing that IT didn’t have. IT knew all about hate.
“You are lying about that, and you were lying about Mrs. Whatsit!” She screamed.
“Mrs. Whatsit hates you,” Charles Wallace said.
And that was where IT made ITs fatal mistake, for as Meg said, automatically, “Mrs. Whatsit loves me; that’s what she told me, that she loves me,” suddenly she knew.
That was what she had that IT did not have.
She had Mrs. Whatsit’s love, and her father’s, and her mother’s, and the real Charles Wallace’s love, and the twins’, and Aunt Beast’s.
And she had her love for them.
–Quote from Madeleine L’Engle’s A Wrinkle in Time
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 oilCrushed. 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 shares man’s smell: the soilIs bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.And for all this, nature is never spent;There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;And though the last lights off the black West wentOh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs —Because the Holy Ghost over the bentWorld broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.–Gerard Manley Hopkins, “God’s Grandeur.”
“For the rest, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever modest, whatsoever just, whatsoever holy, whatsoever lovely, whatsoever of good fame, if there be any virtue, if any praise of discipline, think on these things.”
–Philippians 4:8, Douay Rhiems version