| Most of the following poems and readings could be used for either a christening or naming ceremony, although some celebrants (eg Registrars) do not permit references to God in a naming ceremony. If in doubt speak to the priest or celebrant about your choice of readings.
If you would like to contribute your favourite readings, please email them to hello@mybabycelebration.co.uk.
To help you find a suitable reading, they have been categorised as follows:
Being a Child
 Being Small
Sometimes I just hate being small,
When everybody else is tall,
I think the world is most unfair
With me down here and them up there.
It’s awful when a juicy peach
Is in a bowl far out of reach
Or parents have safely put away
The toys with which I want to play.
It’s terrible to have to stretch
For everything you want to fetch
While bigger people help themselves
To things from off the highest shelves.
Perhaps it might be less unfair
If they were kind of stuck up there
And had to wait till I came round
To give them things from off the ground;
But no, they can easily bend,
To fetch and carry, make and mend,
While if I want to reach that cup,
I have no way of bending up!
John Maguire
Night night, Mummy; see you later
At seven o’clock every evening my Mum tucks me up in my bed.
I’m nice and snug in my ‘jamas, beside me my faithful old Ted.
I always nod off very quickly – before Mum has turned out the light,
But when it’s her bedtime much later, well then I wake up for the night.
For there’s no time of day I like better than the hours between midnight and three,
For Mum hasn’t got any housework and can give her attention to me.
And when i start yelling and shouting, Mum knows that she has to be quick
For the night when she leaves me to grizzle is the night I decide to be sick.
But Mum can’t mind in the slightest at being my playmate ‘til two –
She’d normally spend this time sleeping, for she’s nothing much better to do.
Some nights she mixes a cocktail from the bottles she keeps on the shelf,
Which sometimes she gives me to swallow – and sometimes she gulps down herself!
And if in the morning I’m sleepy, and feel in the need of a perk,
I can have forty winks in my pushchair while Mummy gets on with her work.
But nothing’s as nice as the night time. And nothing can equal the pleasure
Of finding it’s four in the morning and being Mum’s wide-awake treasure
Anon
Through Baby’s Eyes
I didn’t expect a brass band,
With welcome mat unfurled.
To be on hand when I arrived,
In this confusing world.
Nor did I expect a doctor;
To hold me by the feet,
Then quickly turn me upside down,
And spank me on the seat.
At first I wasn’t quite prepared,
For this enormous place,
Nor for the funny characters,
That I would have to face.
But soon I learned to get my way
By looking sweet and shy,
And when I wanted to be held,
To make a fuss and cry.
I’ve found it really doesn’t take
Much difficulty or guile
To wrap them round my finger;
All I need to do is smile.
Anon
A Prayer Celebrating the Spirit of a Child
Give us the spirit of the child.
Give us the child who lives within - the child who trusts, the child who imagines, the child who sings, the child who receives without reservation, the child who gives without judgement.
Give us a child's eyes, that we may receive the beauty and freshness of this day like a sunrise. Give us a child's ears, that we may hear the music of mythical times.
Give us a child's heart, that we may be filled with wonder and delight.
Give us a child's faith, that we may be cured of our cynicism.
Give us the spirit of the child, who is not afraid to need, who is not afraid to love. Amen
Anon
Learning to Talk
See this small one, tiptoe on
The green foothills of the years,
Views a younger world than yours;
When you go down, he’ll be the tall one.
Dawn’s dew is on his tongue –
No word for what’s behind the sky,
Naming all that meets the eye,
Pleased with sunlight over a lawn.
Hear his laughter. He can’t contain
The exquisite moment overflowing.
Limbs leaping, woodpecker flying
Are for him and not heareafter.
Tongue trips, recovers, triumphs,
Turning all ways to express
What the forward eye can guess
That time is his and earth young.
We are growing too like trees
To give the rising wind a voice:
Eagles shall build upon her verse,
Our winged seeds are tomorrow’s sowing.
Yes, we learn to speak for all
Whose hearts here are not at home,
All who march to a better time
And breed the world for which they burn.
Though we fall once, though we often,
Though we fall to rise not again,
From our horizon sons begin;
When we go down, they will be tall ones.
C. Day Lewis
NB. These poems and readings have been collected from different sources. Whilst every effort has been made to trace the author, please let us know the name of any not acknowledged.
|
Join Online
