Easter Anthem
Holy passion, wholly free
The sacrifice of Christ for me
Wholly free holy cost
The Savior for the wholly lost
------------------------------
How sweet it is to think of Christ,
And heaven in His presence,
To worship, holy, Him who died,
Who in my place was sacrificed,
That I might there have residence.
How great the agony which He felt
Who sinless here had wholly dwelt,
How immeasurable the pain
Of my sins' penalty He freely bore,
Who rightly with the Father now reigns.
How on my face I rightly fall
To worship Him, the All in All.
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Friday, March 21, 2008
Good Friday
[Originally written 6 April 2007, sentiments unchanged, 21 March 2008]
Good Friday
I scanned Psalm 22 again, in keeping with this day,
And came away with these words in particular:
Yet you are holy.
What difference does that make?
When I cry out as the Psalmist and
Empty heart and empty hand,
When there is no response to my prayers
And God seems to be no where--
Yet He is holy.
When abuse for my belief in Him
Causes my faith light to grow dim,
When others say my faith is without sense,
In this I find my strength's defense--
Yet He is holy.
When I am scorned by foe and friend alike,
When feeling alone resonates, words harmful spike,
When I grow more weak and my body gives out,
In this fact I have no doubt--
Yet He is holy.
On Him alone shall I lean for my days,
To Him alone give all my praise,
To Him alone direct my thinking,
From His living water drinking--
He is holy, He alone,
Ruling from His eternal throne.
Good Friday
I scanned Psalm 22 again, in keeping with this day,
And came away with these words in particular:
Yet you are holy.
What difference does that make?
When I cry out as the Psalmist and
Empty heart and empty hand,
When there is no response to my prayers
And God seems to be no where--
Yet He is holy.
When abuse for my belief in Him
Causes my faith light to grow dim,
When others say my faith is without sense,
In this I find my strength's defense--
Yet He is holy.
When I am scorned by foe and friend alike,
When feeling alone resonates, words harmful spike,
When I grow more weak and my body gives out,
In this fact I have no doubt--
Yet He is holy.
On Him alone shall I lean for my days,
To Him alone give all my praise,
To Him alone direct my thinking,
From His living water drinking--
He is holy, He alone,
Ruling from His eternal throne.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
One August Evening
One August Evening
Written while we were still living in Illinois, in the top floor of a two-flat which was built around the time of the War to End All Wars. I rarely think in a straight line so one observation of some temporal situation often leads to something I hope more eternal in significance. In this instance, it is Ephesians 5:8-15. I will wait while you read that before you read the following. Ready?
One August Evening
Muggy Monday, yet coffee brews
While languid fans bemuse.
Warm, damp, close, all summer summing
In one evening's coming.
Sunrise:
Dew-darkened leaves,
Mourning doves,
Whippoorwill,
Mild-stained sky,
Remind me still
Of Grandma's farm,
Of childhood's simpler days
When peace was understood, accepted, undemanded, enjoyed as
Only a purer, more singular
Eye/heart receive, rejoice in.
Children's voices trigger memory
Without regret and resolution within.
One angle gives away
What another can't: The light
Sneaking through
A warped crack, a door
Cut to a different frame
Doesn't matter as long as the lock
Fits, the bolt
Holds a door
Cut to a different frame.
One angle reveals
What no other can: the light
Written while we were still living in Illinois, in the top floor of a two-flat which was built around the time of the War to End All Wars. I rarely think in a straight line so one observation of some temporal situation often leads to something I hope more eternal in significance. In this instance, it is Ephesians 5:8-15. I will wait while you read that before you read the following. Ready?
One August Evening
Muggy Monday, yet coffee brews
While languid fans bemuse.
Warm, damp, close, all summer summing
In one evening's coming.
Sunrise:
Dew-darkened leaves,
Mourning doves,
Whippoorwill,
Mild-stained sky,
Remind me still
Of Grandma's farm,
Of childhood's simpler days
When peace was understood, accepted, undemanded, enjoyed as
Only a purer, more singular
Eye/heart receive, rejoice in.
Children's voices trigger memory
Without regret and resolution within.
One angle gives away
What another can't: The light
Sneaking through
A warped crack, a door
Cut to a different frame
Doesn't matter as long as the lock
Fits, the bolt
Holds a door
Cut to a different frame.
One angle reveals
What no other can: the light
Thursday, March 6, 2008
uncontrolled mind uncontrolled mouth
It's hard to say I'll only say what's wise and kind;
It's hard to control my mouth and my mind,
Or so I find;
All seems to run on remote control, if any control at all,
And so I fall--
Boy, do I fall, somehow on front and kiester both at once
Like a dunce--
Pretend that fool wasn't me at all
But I know it was I who took the fall
And fell again until black and blue and I rue
And repent of all I out of my mouth sent
That wasn't wise or wasn't kind
Which came from an uncontrolled mind.
[2002-2003]
It's hard to control my mouth and my mind,
Or so I find;
All seems to run on remote control, if any control at all,
And so I fall--
Boy, do I fall, somehow on front and kiester both at once
Like a dunce--
Pretend that fool wasn't me at all
But I know it was I who took the fall
And fell again until black and blue and I rue
And repent of all I out of my mouth sent
That wasn't wise or wasn't kind
Which came from an uncontrolled mind.
[2002-2003]
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Some Days
Some days
Some days are
Harder
Than
Diamonds.
If only they were as rare
If only their intrinsic value was as great
Maybe it is
Maybe they are
Some days are
Harder
Than
Diamonds.
If only they were as rare
If only their intrinsic value was as great
Maybe it is
Maybe they are
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