PAUL MIZZI

F’pajjiż orjentali għex għoġol li kien jitlagħlu malajr u jaqbad ifajjar biż-żewġ fejn ġie ġie. Ommu, baqra bil-għaqal u mdorrija xxidd il-madmad, iddispjaċieha għall-mewt illi ngħatalha iben hekk vergonjuż. Biex tgħinu tatu parir. “Kull darba li tħoss it-tempra tiela’,” qaltlu, “aqbad dan il-martell u l-landa msiemer, u mur sammar musmar wieħed ma’ dik il-balluta f’nofs il-bur.” Binha għoġbitu l-idea, u hekk għamel. Kull darba li jħoss d-demm tiela’ għal rasu, jaqbad u jagħmel kif qaltlu t-twajba ommu. L-ewwel xahar sammar mas-sittin musmar, it-tieni xahar erbgħin, it-tielet xahar għoxrin. Beda jinnota illi eħfef għalih ma jirrabjax milli joqgħod jinqala’ biex isammar il-musmar. Difatti fir-raba’ xahar sammar ħames imsiemer biss. Billi fil-ħames xahar ma rrabja qatt, ommu ssuġġerietlu biex kull ġurnata li tgħaddi, jekk jibqa’ bla ma jirrabja, imur jaqla’ musmar wieħed. L-għoġol obda, u waslet dik il-ġurnata meta l-imsiemer qalagħhom kollha. Kollu eċċitat, l-għoġol sejjaħ lil ommu...

The evils that beset our path Who can prevent or cure? We stand upon the brink of death When most we seem secure. If we today sweet peace possess, It soon may be withdrawn; Some change may plunge us in distress, Before tomorrow’s dawn. Disease and pain invade our health And find an easy prey; And oft, when least expected, wealth Takes wings and flies away. A fever or a blow can shake Our wisdom’s boasted rule; And of the brightest genius make A madman or a fool. The gourds, from which we look for fruit, Produce us only pain; A worm unseen attacks the root, And all our hopes are vain. I pity those who seek no more Than such a world can give; Wretched they are, and blind, and poor, And dying while they live. Since sin has filled the earth with woe, And creatures fade and die; Lord wean our hearts from things below, And fix our hopes on high.         - John Newton.

Ġove sema’ illi fis-saltna tiegħu l-bhejjem kienu qed jingħaqdu konfoffa kontrih. Allura sejjaħ lill-ajkla u ordnalha biex tiġbor rapport u tinformah eżattament x’qed jiġri. L-ajkla dritt taret, laqqgħet lill-annimali u tathom l-opoportunità biex isemmgħu l-ilmenti tagħhom. Il-kelb taċ-ċiwawwa ilmenta illi għalkemm jaf jinbaħ ma kien ċkejken wisq u mhux kapaċi jiġri daqs il-kelb tal-kaċċa, u allura ma kellu ebda ċans jaqbad xi gamiema. L-iljun esprima ruħu hekk: “Kieku għandi l-makakkerija tal-volpi, ma jkollix għalfejn nilmenta.” U l-volpi qal: “ U kieku għandi l-qawwa u l-ġmiel tal-iljun, ma kontx nipprotesta.” Is-serduq qal: “Kieku kapaċi ntir bħall-ħamiem, ma tisimgħunix ingorr.” U l-ħamiema qalet: “Kieku għandi r-rix imlewwen bħal tas-serduq, ma kontx ningħaqad f’dan l-irvell.” L-awrata qalet: “U jien, kieku kapaċi nimxi fil-foresta bħall-ors u l-fenek, kont inkun kuntenta.” L-ajkla, kif rat hekk, ħadet paċenzja bihom, u fissritilhom illi jaqblilhom ikunu kuntenti kif inhuma. ...

While with ceaseless course the sun Hasted through the former year, Many souls their race have run, Never more to meet us here Fixed in an eternal fate, They have done with all below; We a little longer wait, But how little—none can know. As the winged arrow flies Speedily the mark to find; As the lightning from the skies Darts, and leaves no trace behind; Swiftly thus our fleeting days Bear us down life’s rapid stream; Upwards, Lord, our spirits raise, All below is but a dream. Thanks for mercies past receive, Pardon of our sins renew; Teach us, henceforth, how to live With eternity in view: Bless thy word to young and old, Fill us with a Savior’s love; And when life’s short tale is told, May we dwell with thee above.          - John Newton

The billows swell, the winds are high, Clouds overcast my wintry sky; Out of the depths to Thee I call, -- My fears are great, my strength is small. O Lord, the pilot's part perform, And guard and guide me through the storm; Defend me from each threatening ill, Control the waves, -- say, "Peace! be still." Amidst the roaring of the sea My soul still hangs her hope on Thee; Thy constant love, thy faithful care, Is all that saves me from despair. Dangers of every shape and name Attend the followers of the Lamb, Who leave the world's deceitful shore, And leave it to return no more. Though tempest-toss'd and half a wreck, My Saviour through the floods I seek; Let neither winds nor stormy main Force back my shatter'd bark again.             - William Cowper

Wieħed xħiħ kellu d-drawwa joħroġ il-kaxxetta tiegħu mill-moħba kull flgħaxija, biex joqgħod jitpaxxa bil-ġojjelli u dehbijiet li rnexxielu jakkwista tul għomru. Issa kien xjaħ sewwa, u l-kuxjenza tiegħu kienet sikwit tkiddu. “Ah,” kien imbagħad jgħid, “kieku l-art ħbiet id-deheb u d-djamanti tagħha hekk li ebda bniedem ma kien ikun jaf bihom, kieku jien m’inix ngħix il-ħajja miżerabbli tiegħi! Xi prezz ikolli nħallas għall-vizzju tiegħi! Tlift kull kuntentizza, u ħbieb m’għandix.” Fid-daqqa u l-ħin deher l-alla tiegħu, Plutus. Ċanfru u qallu, “Għaliex qed twaħħal fid-deheb u l-ġid li tajtek? Il-problema tinsab fik, fil-qalb rgħiba tiegħek, mhux fid-deheb innifsu. L-istess deheb, imħaddem minn qalb ġeneruża, jagħmel ħafna ġid lir-romol u l-iltima, u jikkawża ħafna ferħ f’qalb min jaf iħaddmu sewwa.”

Heal us, Emmanuel! here we are, Waiting to feel Thy touch: Deep-wounded souls to Thee repair And, Saviour, we are such. Our faith is feeble, we confess, We faintly trust Thy word; But wilt Thou pity us the less? Be that far from Thee, Lord! Remember him who once applied, With trembling, for relief; "Lord, I believe," with tears he cried, "Oh, help my unbelief!" She too, who touch'd Thee in the press, And healing virtue stole, Was answer'd, "Daughter, go in peace, Thy faith hath made thee whole." Conceal'd amid the gathering throng, She would have shunn'd Thy view; And if her faith was firm and strong, Had strong misgivings too. Like her, with hopes and fears we come, To touch Thee, if we may; Oh! send us not despairing home, Send none unheal'd away!           - William Cowper