Fulfillment of a glorious kind
no
sham-shackled restraint
nor tarnished crows;
here be no 'dragons'
no malicious malcontent
in the presence of Light.
Majestic magnificence enthrals
saints of disparate calibre
from revered to commonplace.
Here all crowns and accolades
lie in a heap by the door
as you and I join the refrain
'Worthy, Worthy, Worthy'.
He is King for ever
this
once and future King.
He out-Arthurs
Arthur
for chivalry,
love, and the 'regal' thing.
His kingdom grows forever
knows neither end nor bound;
no enclosing
fences,
or curtaincy
encompass Him around.
His love and tenderness never cease
eternal
caressing to my soul.
Wordless whispers of care
dare the exposing,
expose the daring,
of reflected tenderness within.
And mortal hurt and grief,
shallow wounds upon my soul,
are salved and tended
by gentle touch.
And words and deed,
which hurt as much,
are faded into passing cloud.
I am humbled by such goodness;
a child’s
simplicity unravelling
truth and beauty
in a quiet prayer.
'Father' is 'father'
and God is a pal,
when awe is wonder and not fear,
and distanced Holy becomes so near.
You are in the child's eyes
not confined within my brain,
Your comfort, care and sorrow
shining out from tiny frame.
I pray I will, for it is right,
both
love and honour God;
To follow in the footsteps
where Holy folk have trod.
I pray I will, for it is good,
cherish only truth
and banish wasteful trifles
and the ignorance of youth.
I pray I will, for love of Life
keep to the paths that lead
to the carefulness of God
and the gentle touch I need.
In His perfect plan
is
there a blemish that is me ?
Is there a place reserved
for the sinner, that I see ?
Or maybe I'll find
in this strange design
that even I have been
edited by grace
and error free.
Jesus’ perfect Love takes away all
Deaths fear.
When the division bell rings
and separated soul finds home,
when time becomes a parcel returned to sender,
all that remains is love.
Such love as bleaches stain away
and warms the icy blast of the fear
that hides within the shadow of faith.
And the hand that reaches out to hold
your trembling hand across the void
will carry your name upon its palm
in welcome.
Join the salutation
in self-coloured
hue make melody
give praise before the throne.
Angel voices, ever singing,
enriched by earthbound heartsong.
From solitary pilgrim
and cathedral throng,
chapel, church, and cell
the roar of worship
draws from a well
of thankful souls.
Mercies follow in His wake
a
plume of white effervescence
spreading to infinity
like a skein of geese in twilight sky.
A touch of healing
to broken pots,
a touch of forgiveness
to broken promises.
We stand at the altar
either side of calvary
He and I
looking forward, never back.
Rejoice in His comfort and be Spirit
led.
Set weary frame and tired soul upon a contemplation.
Close your eyes, yet not your mind,
as longing arms reach out to touch.
Rejoice in love and cherishing,
of uncrossed arms
and gifted time
in the waiting of eternity.
For I have loved you, now and ever,
womb to grave,
before,
beyond -
from knitted dust
to earth's decay.
I have loved you and ever will,
beyond your tomorrow
into My today.
So, more of You I'll give
if less of me
I need to see.
You in my words,
You in my love,
You in my transparency.
So I might cease my urgency
to be this 'little', self-full, me
and much less
than I ought to be.
Open my heart
and bless me with Yours.
the spotless Lamb my Sacrifice
on a table laid for me
an altar of devotion
and branches of the tree
which held my gaze a while ago
on ancient Calvary
the spotless Lamb of Sacrifice
the first and last in line
the sure and steadfast answer
for any sin of mine
will be the point of reference
when faith is in
decline
Still I search for answers
on blank canvass of the day,
seek the mountain of refreshment
while in valleys strewn with jagged stones.
Still I look to truth
for the pathway through the mire
when muddy confusion grips my feet.
Still I hope for comfort
in clouds that hide and shade
as the heat of shards of sunlight
burn and blister.
When all the world is turmoil,
when what can be seen is only lie,
when today begins as yesterday ends
and youth's passion fades to grey;
maybe then I'll see the value
of commands that make no sense
in rush and bustling times and tides
and understand the worth of little words.
Holding deep within my soul
one word:
'still'.
In stillness there is peace.
The same from age to age
His
or mine
outside time.
A touch of Father
on a son's shoulder
when fallen
or held in depression's grip.
A smile of Father
when the clown of youth
looses the greasepaint
but the antics are the same.
A breath of Father
when world's compression
stifles and chokes
in futile repetition
without learning.
This is
the ageless caring of Creator.