Clinging to your troubles
Closed fisted and closed minded
Squinting to avoid the pain
Sense of guilt
Meets pardoning grace
Again and again
Can you be humble?
Will you take
The exchange?
RWOz2
“The more burdens we put on His shoulders, the more precious will He be to us.”
— Charles Spurgeon
Ripple on the water Streak across the sky Solid weight of Glory Thereafter in mind’s eye Along the mystic chords A glimpse of fleeting grace How I long to see My loving Savior’s face.
RWOz2
We then
May not boast
We are in by grace
And grace alone
Through
No effort of our own.
Rough undressed stones
Wrenched from the quarry
Wholly imperfect.
Yet we shall not thus remain
But another perfection attain
And not by our own volition
Shall we be fitted for addition
Onto the eternal Temple.
Even then
In days of long gone by
And far from Mount Sion
Hammer and chisel
Noised their will
After measured twice
Before taken to Mount Sion
And there builded up
To contain the holy glory.
Thus He does use
The hammer of hardship
And the chisel of trials
Here below
To shape and fit us
To behold the holy glory
There above
Forever.
RWOz2
I met a poem
Once
All unaware
She was one
She did for
The least of these
And was told
Twas for the Son
She submits
Her scheme
To follow
His theme
Her metre
Marking time
To His beat
Her rhymes
Line by line
Toll complete
And raises
Others up
With no thought
To her own
By which was shown
We too can poems be
Songs formed
On the lips of God.
RWOz2
Drawn to the canvas
Of the sky
Stretched twixt
Zenith and horizon
Sand flows past
In rivulets
Wind impelled
Over darker sand
Laid down by
Exhausted waves
Effortless
The art of God
Wherever we turn
Signs of His precision
The grace of God
Wielded by His Spirit
Invites us leave
Our prints
In His work pristine.
RWOZ2
The decision has been made. Tomorrow we will all repair to the fields and there camp through the harvest. Today was given over to preparations to that end.
Last night the lights from the west end seemed even brighter than the evening before. They especially lit up all the approaches to their gateways. What do they have to fear from our small quarter? From us?
I guess we fear them too. Not knowing what their intent is toward us.
Lyle becomes more concerned with each passing day that Kip and Moglen may be lost to us. Could they indeed be swayed?
Later I sought the grace and peace that flows in my walled courtyard, sensing there may be no return.
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