Holy is the King
Your Word is the taming bridle
You cast the mold of the earth, and it obeys
Just as you hung each star, at your command, each will fall.
Just as you called up the mountains, at your trumpet, each will melt.
Just as you set the boundaries of the ocean so grand, at your coming, it shall flee.
The heavens, the earth, as you have sustained them, they shall disappear by you, the Life-fire.
Holy Is the King.
O! Ancient of Days, your glory is from everlasting to everlasting! You are the First and the Last!
O! Alpha-Omega, Breath of Life, Unapproachable Light! There is nothing beside you!
You tell the seasons when to bloom, the winds where to blow, the sun to shine
You are the architect of the earth, the painter of the cosmos, the LORD
You are the author and weaver, The Champion of our Salvation
Well of Glory! You are unquantifiable
Holy is the King!
Jan 31
Jan 31, 2026 at 9:36 PM UTC
Graceful Suffering
By Ursula D. Jones
Palindrome Poetry (Mirror Poem)
November 6, 2023
Suffering gracefully is always giving in gentleness,
Smiling cheerfully in enduring pain and grief.
Learning wisdom in silence and loneliness,
Pensively guiding and directing frivolities composed of youthfulness.
Only healing for longing, wounded, and lonesome hearts,
Friendship offered and taken. Never returned companionship.
Suffering graceful, with happiness for all, never jealous, nor spiteful.
Peacefully—
spiteful, nor jealous. Never. All for happiness with graceful suffering,
Companionship returned never. Taken and offered friendship.
Hearts, lonesome and wounded, longing for healing only.
Youthfulness of composed frivolities; directing and guiding pensively.
Loneliness and silence in wisdom learning,
Greif and pain enduring in cheerfully smiling.
Gentleness in giving always is gracefully suffering.
Oct 22, 2024
Oct 22, 2024 at 7:30 PM UTC
Forsaken anew; / failure’s company
Saturnine, my soul; / assurance broken
Order to chaos; / fractured symmetry
Alone with failure / Hope was yet token
Blood in the mirror / oozing lethargy
The instrument held / in the victim’s hand
Lambasted pride’s pith; / pain the elegy
Drip down, down to dirt; /soul’s vice reprimand
The high price paid for / blind cowardice proud
To slough shamed sin sets /my soul to quail
Failure to stop pride; /sanguine stained I stand
My blood measures short, /to sin-siege, I fail
But God is faithful, / redeemer belov’d
His blood ransomed me; /Praise to Him who loves
Oct 17, 2024
Oct 17, 2024 at 11:44 PM UTC
To grow old young is to lose inherent innocence,
And to see the finite nature of life, even while death is years
Off. It is to throw off the follies of childhood and don the weight of
Aging. Yet to grow young old is to be ignorant; in bliss and freedom, weightless.
To find happiness in life and to laugh at the world, worriless
And light, able to take flight. But which is better?
It is true that wisdom is prized, and joy is coveted.
To grow old young is to sacrifice the beauty in youth–
Surrender it to the leaping fire that refines the ambitious into
The heavy-burdened souls of the wise. People must grieve the death
Of endearing ignorance and instead, see sorrow and mistakes remake youth.
But to grow young old is to put a smile on the faces of those around them.
To fly away with dreams and to get back up after failed attempts and
Laugh off trials. Yet it is also to set people’s jaws grinding as they
Wonder why they have not grown up. But that is all the fun.
It is true that wisdom is prized, and joy is coveted.
To grow old young is to embrace the long run with diligent
Care. To embrace trials with patience and to comfort those who
Are caught in the sorrow of watching youth and joy die. This is good.
To grow young old is to be light-hearted and laugh often and to
Make others laugh too. To be there to lift others up when they fall.
And to rise again and again, no matter the fail. This too is good.
It is true that wisdom is prized, and joy is coveted.
Oct 16, 2024
Oct 16, 2024 at 12:37 PM UTC