A Psalm Of Adoration

O God, my heart soars as I ponder You.
In the stillness of the night my soul longs for You.
May every intention of my heart be pure in Your eyes,
And every word that I speak pleasing to Your ears.
O my God, if I had not You where could I turn?
You fill my life with joy and blessing,
And my words of thanks can never satisfy the debt I owe.
Would that Your Son return now, my Father!
All my bones tremble in anticipation,
And the glories of heaven spark my longing.
How may one as unworthy as I claim Your love?
O thank You, Father, for the gift of Your Son!
What more can I say of You, my God?
What greater praise might I offer?
Behold, all that I am lay at Your feet.
All that I will one day be is due to You!
Your grace and mercy overwhelms me.
Your patience is a boon to my soul.
O Father, You will forever be my God!

Who is this man?

Who is this man going from town to town,
Rebuking religious elite, not giving an inch of ground?
With great authority his voice carries on the wind,
And he claims even the right to forgive men their sins!

Who is this man to whom the wretched flock,
Imploring hands extended as though he were their rock?
From whence the compassion shining in his eyes,
And the strength of spirit as he gazes to the skies?

Who is this man laying his hands upon the lame,
Healing high and low alike and treating everyone the same?
He walks among the penniless and the well-to-do,
Their need for a Savior binding them like glue.

Who is this man that winds and sea should obey his voice,
Submitting in a moment as though they had no choice?
With awe in their hearts the men looked all around;
Those who had been certain that they were to be drowned.

Who is this man now exhausted at the end of day,
Yet scorning needed sleep to bow his head and pray?
Entire nights spent in isolation, though never truly alone,
For his spirit knelt before his Father's lovely throne.

Who is this man whose tortured body drips with precious blood,
Whose load becomes so heavy he falls into the mud?
Nails pierced his hands and then they pierced his feet;
And it seemed at the end his mission spelled defeat.

Who is this man who rose triumphant from his tomb,
Treating death with contempt and rising from its gloom?
He ascended up to Heaven, to his Father above,
After having accomplished the greatest act of love.

So who is this man and why should we care,
With so much to do and many loads to bear?
Truly there is no way to quantify his worth;
For his name is Jesus Christ, the Savior of the earth!

The Bearer Of Tales

Like a delicious morsel sweet to the taste,
Is the scandalous rumor spoken in haste.
It goes down smooth and causes a stir,
And proceeds from the lips with a satisfied purr.

Like a dry forest now set ablaze,
There's no finding the source through the haze.
That which began as rumor is now stated as fact.
"You didn't hear this from me," the agreed upon pact.

A reputation is ruined as the story proceeds,
Rumor is never satisfied until it breeds.
Now here is anger and there is shame,
While the father of lies gladly takes blame.

How is the Lord honored in any of this?
To what does it lead if not the abyss?
Now suspicion, anger, and a desire to rend,
Dwell where unity and peace should have been.

May God be patient with the bearer of tales!
May they avoid the sudden chorus of wails!
Let them now recall their place as priest,
And pursue those things that make for peace!

Willing Clay

I call upon the earth and sky,
Whose grandeur fills my wondering eye.
Bear witness now and hear my claim,
As I speak of He who stays the same.

You oceans deep, now hear my voice,
Consider my words and rejoice.
O mighty winds, shy not away,
For you must hear my words this day.

Let all the earth now gather to me.
Come in haste for you must see!
Do not speak, only lend an ear,
And consider now the words you hear.

Jesus Christ is the Lamb of God,
And upon this earth His steps have trod.
He shed His blood though He knew no blame,
To save my soul from a burning flame.

Now I stand aware of my sins,
Shame and joy warring within.
Who am I that He shed His blood,
Upon that hill of clay and mud?

I praise Him now as best I can,
Though how unsuitable the words of man!
I'm at His side and there I'll stay.
So mold now, Potter, Your willing clay.

Always Near

High atop the peaks of ease,
Where all is calm and fair.
Where gentle breezes lift the soul,
I find my Savior there.

Drifting back to the plains below,
Back to the barren ground.
My heart remains light and free,
For I hear my Savior's sound.

Now down into the depths of gloom,
Dreary valley's pierce the land.
Yet the other side is but steps away,
For my Savior extends His hand.

Whether in the heavens high above,
Or in a cold and dismal place,
My feet are sure, my resolve is strong,
Enclosed in arms of grace.

So count me among that happy throng,
Rejoicing that our souls are stored.
Fearing not to admit weaknesses,
And boasting proudly in our Lord.

Two New Books

Greetings all.  Rhyme and Reason and An Evening With Jesus have been released for purchase simply by clicking on their book covers to the right.  Rhyme and Reason is a collection of poetry that I have written over several years.  An Evening With Jesus is a "short story poem" in which a Christian spends an entire evening with Jesus as he dreams.  It is a story of growth and redemption.  I invite you to check them out.  Happy reading!

Through A Dark Night

With trembling heart I call,

But do You hear at all?

And don’t You know my fears,

My sorrows and my tears?

Won’t You answer my prayer,

Or don’t You really care?

Do words spoken with sigh,

Just dissipate and die?

You told me to draw near,

And that I’m cherished dear.

You said You’d see me through,

To cast my cares on You.

Why does it sometimes seem,

I’m alone on this team?

Why feel I in my prayer,

You’d rather I not share?

A broken heart is hard,

For king, scholar, or bard.

But the pain reaches bone,

When suffering alone.

But am I without aid,

And must I be afraid?

Now can’t I at the last,

Count blessings from the past?

 

Shall I abandon trust,

To wallow in the dust?

Shall I retreat and hide,

As though I thought You’d lied?

Though in sin oft I’ve drowned,

You’ve never let me down.

My loyalty has waned,

But Yours is never feigned.

Back to my feet I climb,

For You act in Your time.

Rising up from the floor,

I’m stronger than before.

Confident in Your might,

I know You do what’s right.

Who does what You can do?

I’ll gladly wait for You!