Unseen
Oh God, the maker of the world,
everywhere thy works unfurled,
from the farthest twinkling star
to the ground just where we are.
I have seen so many things
that seem to me they must be dreams.
But in the things that thou didst make,
I ask, "Where is he, that creates?"
Where is he that made the stars,
and all the things that are so far?
Where is the maker of our earth,
the one who must be always first?
For tho I see thy vast array,
I have not seen thyself, today.
For he gave us winds and seas,
but he himself, we do not see.
Doesn't God suggest his love,
as we lift our eyes above
and see the sky windswept and clear-
sunshine pouring far and near.
Clouds aloft of peak design,
changing, moving, time on time.
Flowers in their symmetry
persuade us of his vast beauty,
while nearby trees a tale do tell
of winter, summer, all too well.
Both free and patient, they do stand,
and tell of hope and joy, at hand.
And in the creatures God has made
we find his care and love displayed.
To be beautiful a life must be
touched by God with quality
far surpassing just its own,
inspired by a source unknown.
Whether it be light and gay,
or lilting in another way,
or full of weight and dignity,
somber in its density.
Each aspect has a special tone,
identity that's all its own.
Each an aspect that our God
gave to be fulfilling of.
And if we keep it polished bright,
it has a glow and inner light.
Not good enough to pray—
a soul can feel that way,
and from the temple stay.
In misery and ill,
standing outside still,
to not pollute the temple floor,
and commit a sin once more.
Surely it is best to stay
from holiness quite far away
lest it is a worse offence
than ever you committed yet.
And you close your eyes and heart,
and all the sorrow grows quite hard.
And all the time he's standing there,
lamp in hand, and meek of air.
Ready with the rest we seek,
and solace in unmeasured mete.
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Redeemed
I said Lord, I'm tired,
I did the best I knew.
I know it wasn't much,
but now my life is thru.
I really don't know why
it ended up this way.
It seems so very small,
and yet I tried each day.
He took from his pocket a small pebble,
and gave it unto Him.
And when He took it,
he saw a radiance begin.
The rays extended outward
for quite a space or more.
He said, "It is your effort
that you struggled for.
And as you lit your inmost self,
so too you showed the way
for others yet to follow
in a righteous way.
The things you did may not concern
an inner way of life,
but if they seemed but small,
carried inner light."
The songs of the saints,
that they used to sing,
with power, and fervor, and prayer.
The rock of the ages, and sweet billows roll,
and you knew that they were there.
Their soul was poured in the wonderful verse,
which filled the very air,
until his spirit came with them,
and rested with them there.
And while they were anointed
thru heaven's melody,
the power came and rested,
o'er heaven's saints to be.
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Heaven's Door
Tired and worn,
tattered, torn,
I crawl to heaven's door.
Surely there's no place for me
in heaven any more.
Just an outcast,
who lost his place,
and to everyone, disgrace.
Falling to the depths below,
never-ending downward go.
What's this? I see a radiant hem.
It must be fastened higher then.
And as my eyes arose to see,
I saw the Saviour facing me.
So soft his face, tho glowing bright,
I could scarcely bear the light.
He seemed gentle, meek and kind,
like a friend we hope to find.
Softly he took me by the hand,
and I found that I could stand.
But I was truly humble now
and thought to thank him still somehow.
But he spoke first, and wont to do,
and he said, I comfort you.
For I was robbed and beaten too
and left for dead, almost like you.
All our woes are not our own,
but suffer as the world condones.
Grievous are our many ways,
but you may rest in peace today.
For I know your heart is sad
and lost in all the woes you had.
But friend, 0 grieve no more.
Yonder opens heaven's door.
Tarry there and rest thy soul,
until thy essence is made whole.
For you will find a comfort there
and no soul beyond repair.
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Silence
God seems silent in our lives
when we need him many times.
The answer doesn't seem to come,
tho we ask and ponder on.
Days go on and pain remains,
situations that don't change.
Where is God in all distress
when our life is trial and stress?
Days go by and years and more
till we forget what we asked for.
Sometimes many years between
till we look back and catch a gleam
of what a trial might be for
and reasons never known before.
The power of holiness,
as it settles around,
envelops the saints
as they kneel down.
Clear and lucid, definite,
surrounds them as they pray,
and a holy mantle
encases them that way,
and heaven has an opening
of ivory laden rays.
No power on earth is great enough
to disturb their gaze,
for they are God's, and he is theirs,
as long as heaven stays.
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Listen
Listen to the voice of God,
listen well all day.
Be open in your consciousness
to what he has to say.
Listen in the quiet,
meditate and pray.
Be open to his message
along life's ponderous way.
The lessons may be simple,
but different than you do,
for in a simple way
he may be leading you.
Many steps are needed
for consecrated life
and he'll lead you one by one
if you'll take his advice.
Recall the monks of days gone by,
secluded lives in fortress high.
Wearing robes of deepest brown,
blending with the earth around.
Moving with a dignity
that did not change intensity.
Never letting you forget
the atmosphere so weighty yet.
And in their simple life replete
with prayer and fasting, thought and deed,
and silence that surrounded them
with deep awareness, now as then.
And ever in a steadfast way
they lived and worked and read and prayed,
and passed to us the atmosphere
of God intuit, ever near.
No church has a ceiling high as heaven:
not one could be found.
But we suggest with peaks and spires
our aspiration's bound.
Monasteries set on heights,
cliffs or craigs do dwell.
Remind us of their lofty aims
that we know so well.
But in a church that's out-of-doors
the trees speak of his love,
and high as you can see
there is heaven above.
Our prayers directly go to him,
and he is all around.
Everything his handiwork,
and everywhere is found.
A duck sitting on water represents God (duck) and his image (man).
We should never make the mistake of mistaking the image for the duck. The duck is the substance and power of God, while the image is only a reflection.
The duck can fly away and leave the image
behind, but the image is nothing without the duck.
Meditate and pray,
and store them deep away,
where holiness and quiet find
a natural resting place,
Enveloping and still,
to draw on them at will,
and find a fountain flowing
to every nuance fill.
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When the Lord Came My Way
When the Lord came my way,
and loosened me from clay,
just like I had prayed.
When he took me in a golden realm
I did not understand,
and loosened all the former ways,
so I the light could stand.
And I Beheld the beautiful
as it had always been—
radiant and lovely,
without, and within.
"Be still and know that I am God,"
and quiet before thine eyes.
Receive amidst thy cares
an inner paradise.
Happiness seems close to heaven
and the joy thereof,
spilling into farthest reaches
of the life and heart.
But sadness is a barrier
tho God may be nearby,
and seems to keep us from his love
tho we may grow thereby.
Happiness is heaven,
and sadness is regret
to be so far from heaven
in time that lingers yet.
In the far outreach of thy heaven,
if that is where I go,
let me heal by beauty,
thine alone I know.
In quiet meditation
of the candle's glow
let me heal—
thine, I know,
without the jarring shock
of worldy woe.
In the healing of thy beauty
let me stay
till I am well and whole,
with thee always.
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"...as we forgive our debtors."
". . . as we forgive our debtors."
I drew my sins around me
and would go no more.
Not another step
toward Heaven's door.
I would not yield or give,
forgive another one
of any little thing
that he had ever done.
My choice suffering
I would not yield
to the fire,
to purify.
Empty handed
I would not go,
forgiving them
for pains I know.
And so I stuck,
remembering much,
and would not give them up.
Surely we will be shut from the Gate of heaven,with our hatreds by our side.
With our petty ways and empty days
and causes we deride.
Laughing, we cling to our treasures,
precious in our sight.
But of the wealth within know nothing,
nor ever set it right.
If you say you're lucky,
many times it's true
it was just that God
was looking over you.
We often say we're lucky,
but in our hearts we know
it was a heavenly power
that really made it so.
I'm sorry I forgot to pray—
I watched the tiny birds today.
And watched them hop along the grass,
glad that summer's here at last.
And heard the chorus all around
of their most vibrant, cheerful sound.
I'm sorry I forgot to pray
but I stayed with God all day.
Close to the Heart of God,
and longing to be free-
to be embraced in God's great love
thruout eternity.
He thought, as he put the coffin on his shoulder,
'I have carried the burden of my brother my whole life thru.
In death, as in life, heavy to bear.'
Heavy it seemed, and after, too.
He could not seem to put down
the burden of another,
and it followed him his whole life thru.
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The Final Bell
The Olympic boxers
in the Poland crash
never knew that moment
would be their last.
In their way of looking
the fight had not begun,
but all too soon that day
the fighting was all done.
No one knows but God
just when the end will be,
or what day is our last,
which must come finally.
No one knows but he
what hour the time does tell.
No one knows just when
will come the final bell.
I have no one, only Thee,
surrounding and protecting me.
A thousand miles from kith and kin,
or one who knows when pain begins.
And so I give me to thy care,
alone who knows if evil's there.
Judge and jury, comfort, guide.
Stay Great Jehovah, by my side.
The Pope has set a custom,
and it is his own,
to kiss a foreign soil
as if it were his home.
It is said in Europe
whole planeloads of folks
kiss the earth
just like the Pope.
Kneel and tell it all their hopes.
What blood has crossed there who would know.
Kiss the earth
to make it well
and heal its wounds
just time can tell.
And whisper all their hopes and fears
and sorrow of their heart that's near.
And perhaps the ground can hear
like a great big listening ear
and funnels all the hopes of man
to one great ear as just it can
and take the many woes of war
and let them heal just once more.
God walked with me
in another land,
on dusty roads
and ocean sand.
And led me all along its core
and out again to ocean shore.
And I beheld a peace serene,
warm and pleasant, so it seemed.
A pace more mellow than our own,
and suitable to living tone.
I never knew that he was there
as on the way I trudged somewhere.
I saw it in the people's eyes
and in their hearts so mellow, wise.
But he was there more than I knew,
imparted soul, compassion too.
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The Second Mile
When your heart is weak and sore,
your soul has been tried,
remember it's his word
to go the second mile.
Even tho it's strenuous
and difficult to do,
remember he expects
the very best from you.
So go the second mile
thru the stress and strain,
and see what it's about
that our Saviour prayed.
He went the second mile
and the last one too
and tho he died down here
gave hope to me and you.
And tho we cannot understand
or know the meaning there
our Heavenly Father leadeth us
and walks with us in prayer.
His purpose is so far beyond
the one that we have here
that even tho we're mystified
we have naught to fear.
And in the unknown way beyond
we feel his essence near,
teaching us and guiding us
until his way is clear.
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Buddhist Statues
They're quieter than I am,
quieter by far.
Their lips are sealed eternally
in the good land where they are.
And as they rest they meditate
and gaze the day away.
For they see inner visions
clearly while they pray.
The Weight of Unforgivingness
I gave you 60 years to live
and not one soul did you forgive.
If I gave you 60 more
the tally would be many more.
On this road you would become
a hardened unforgiving one.
You must go in the beyond,
continue on the path you're on
until an incident makes pause
to reorganize the lost
and reconsider hateful ways
degrading to a spirit's taste.
And unencumber weight of lead
leading down, and rise instead.
Then you will be happier
and of this gain will not defer.
Assuaged of the world's store,
I turn to Thee.
Thy creation far outweighs
all of these.
The forest and its luscious scent,
its pathways, trees, are heaven-sent.
With the ground and earth below,
and above the highest bough.
Thy streams and rivers and thy seas
would more than take eternity
to savor every shore and prow
or inlet rushing on somehow.
All thy gifts of earth and sea
century after century.
Every forest, every tree
aspects of divinity.
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Rapture
I had a thought, but let it go,
because I loved the sunshine so.
I had a sorrow too,
but it melted in the blue.
And yellow leaves danced in the sun
and somehow all my cares were done.
And I drifted in their flow,
wherever leaves and wind would blow.
And I found a happy land
not inhabited by man.
A world of vast beauty,
as God meant for it to be.
The leaves and wind swayed to his call,
and streams and brooks enhanced it all.
Walk With Me
Walk with me.
Thru trials and hardships
walk with me.
Tho sad and lonely
walk with me.
Even in thy grief
lose not sight of me,
nor ever tarry at the door
of hard and bitter life, or more;
denial of thy life and soul,
wounded tho they seem not whole.
Ever will I show a way.
Walk with me until today
in your soul you hear me say
I am with you now, always.
My love fell on hard ground,
and my labor, too.
And I prayed to God to make a way
for me, and my child too.
And God made a path as clear as light,
for me to follow in my plight.
It seemed a burden rolled away,
and God's reply was clear as day.
I wanted him to say, 'Roll on'—
but that was just a naive song.
Instead, I heard him say:
Thy plight is only in thy heart.
The way is in it too.
Only in thy inner self
can you improve on you.
There are hardships in the world,
and circumstances too,
beyond the depth of misery
that folks have fallen to.
And for those found in straits as these,
they only have the heart-
to fix their sight on God,
and on distant shores.
The battle is internal,
and if at all it's won—
There is another world beyond,
when this world's labor's done.
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Cure
If the day is kind of dreary
and you're out of things to do,
close your eyes and say
a line from Psalms or two.
And pray for someone sick or old
or someone who needs help.
Your day will go much better
if you pray for someone else.
Oh God today I failed
and everything went wrong.
I lost the sound
of thy angelic song.
I seemed so very far
from thy presence ever-near
as if I'd lost a loved one,
someone I hold dear.
I know it is a failing
to lose touch of you like that
and I regret thy loss
and hope that you come back.
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Miracle
Let me see the workings of God
at last before I die.
Let me see his miracles,
to prove a godly life,
that Thou art there
within thy paradise.
Let -me know it's real,
that you are beyond.
Fullness of thy power,
that for which we long.
Is not the sun a jewel beyond compare?
No greater miracle than he set there.
Are not the seas a power beyond compare.
No greater force than he set there.
And when the flowers wax and wane
and satisfy their thirst with rain,
a miracle that he set here,
but we don't see creation clear.
We look for the exception
and forget each day
he gave a world of miracles,
always on display.
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