O mother of the Saviour of the world,
     Blesséd art thou, among all women blest,
For God Himselfe within thy womb was curl'd,
     And God Himselfe did suckle at thy brest;
And He that dy'd and rose and quitt the tomb
Blossom'd within thy house and there did bloom.

The firstborn fruit of God's inerrant seede,
     Press'd like a bunch of grapes beneathe His wrath
Untill the Man of Sorrowes sore did bleede
     And suffer more than any martyr hath,
Was offer'd vpp a sacrifice for mee
By Father God and, Mother Mary, thee.

Woman, behold thy Sonne, the glorifi'd,
     Transfigur'd Kinge of Heauen; lion, lamb,
Messiah, God and man who liu'd and died
     And liues againe for aye, and is I AM;
Like Abraham, the LORD did ask thy Sonne;
Like Abraham, thou saidst, Thy will be donne.

Solemn sweet pipes of de o'gan
     Heaven's music I've hyead play,
But I'll tell you somefin' truly
     Certain ez is Judgment Day:
Angels present at de service
     Ev'ry Sunday spread dey wings,
Lif' dey hands, an' witness glory
     When Malindy sings.

With coarsest sackecloth cloath my naked soule;
     Construct for me a throne of ashes blacke;
Place on my lying lipps a liuing coal;
     Cast me asea inside a sackcloth sacke;
I am a rocke of great offence, a rocke
As stonie-hearted as a stvmbling blocke.  

No greater loue hath any man than this:
     That he should for his friends lay downe his life;
But I betrayd my friend without a kisse,
     And stabb'd into His back a butter knife;
And he that loueth him his life shall lose it;
And, I denying God Himselfe, did chuse it.

Rock-a-bye baby      
               on the low waves;
when the wind blows      
               the bulrushes sway;
when the waves break
               the cradle is whole;
and blesséd is baby,
               spirit and soul.

Christ on the cross was maximumly heroic:
He was braver than braves that slay goliath foes,
Or warriors facing deadly threats with stoic
And stony faces, standing nose to nose.  
At Golgotha the sin of all the world was laid
On Him who, though despised, was more victorious
Than a general at his own ticker-tape parade,
Thronged by a grateful nation joyous and uproarious.
Had Christ destroyed his enemies with a thought
(An option for Him), He would've suffered a defeat
Since all the lessons the Lord of Glory taught
Would've been dismissed as having been taught by a cheat.
It would've been the easy, cowardly fashion
Of escaping the pain that proved His Godly passion.

The Space—between two Seconds—
Is wider than the Sea—
Is smaller than an Atom—
Is all Eternity—

I slip into Forever
Between the tick and tock
Of ageless Time's forever unwinding
Chronoscopic Clock—

And there I see together—
In perfect Unity—
My Savior—ere and after—
His Birth and Calvary—

Heavenly Lord, thy Spinning Wheele Make mee,
     Make mine thy Holy Spirit glorify,
therewith thereon therein T̶h̶e̶n̶  then this thy thee,
     the Webweave   Loomeyarn thy for glory dy.
     I am thyselfe All pinkt with Judgment fine,
     that Then their words is Ordinances Twine:

Affections make thy Holy to be Reele.
     yee Actions fill shall My apparell may.
My Conversation make and reele thy Wheele.
     Will mine the Holy thy of mine display.
     Affections me with cloath My wayes and quills thy,
     Then make me Then to make same Fulling Mills thy:

Memory Make of Flyers knit bee neate,
     And Swift my Soulespun   Spooleyarn winde before,
Varnisht in Colours Choice That flowers compleate,
     my Distaff Make thine Understanding for.
     And, Cloathd in Holy robes, my Conscience, Lord,
     O Paradise and glory shine thy Worde....

A prophet once proffered a parable,
A wheatable teaching and tarable,
     Concerning the needs
     Of a sowers sown seeds
That require a soil that's arable.

Suckles at first were curst
     To be the homes of flies,
And smell'd like open tombs
     With putrefying eyes.

But Christ, who saves the worst
    (If so He wills) from death,
Did mercy give the blooms
     By giving them His breath.

There once was a spirit-filled pastor
Who fasted like Jesus, his master:
     For forty days lasted
     A fast that he fasted
While wanting the fast to go faster.

w.hen
            freef
                 a
               l
                    l
                 i
                    n
               g
                      from pride's
                      tiptopmost height
x.pect
            to land
            eyeball first
            on a church spire
y.ou
            saw coming from a
z.illion
            miles away

The mountains skip like rutting rams;
        The turtledove is cooing soft;
                Like fleecy lambs,
The floating cloudlets freely frolic far aloft;
    The fruiting fig tree offers figs; the vine
            Grows grapes prepared to wine;
    The wedding bed is green; and wedded life
Begins for Jesus Christ, the Son of Man, and Wife.

Th'angelic quire has tun'd each voice
        To one accord and thusly make
                A joyful noise
Sweeter than angel food (or fairground funnel) cake.
    The birds and bees of Heav'n are in the mood
            For love; the day's as good
    As good could ever be; and every life
That here is bearing witness loves the Man and Wife.

Dearly beloved bride—betroth'd
        No more—enjoy your faith's reward!
                Beautif'ly cloth'd
In modest chastity you only could afford
    By making daily sacrifices, Queen
            Of queens—whose vast demesne
    Is Paradise—you fit the crown of life
More than a conqueror through Him who loves His Wife.  

Glory to God who gave to man
        Woman, that they should be one flesh
                And share one span
Of life, who made the groom and bride, who now enmesh,
    Eternal, and who gives away the bride
            Unto the Son who died
    For her, yet rose to resurrected life,
That they could live forevermore as Man and Wife.

No greater love has man than this:
        To lay his life down for his friends.
                In wedded bliss
The Lord who died for us, whose will nor breaks nor bends,
    His countenance more fair than Lebanon,
            Shall hereby henceforth, on
    And on, through time eternal, share one life
With her, His bride, through endless time as Man and Wife.

Lord Christ is God, and God is love,
        And God is love in overplus.
                Come from above,
By lovingkindness, Jesus Christ is love with us.  
    Rivers of living water (Christ's love) flow
            And floating gardens grow.
    The way, the truth, the love, the light, the life
Of men and women, Christ with love will sate His Wife.  

The father of the bride and groom
        Blesses the current new good news:
                Th'eternal bloom
That is this rose of Sharon shall not fade nor lose
    The savour of its fragrant blossoms white,
            Pink, purple, blue, red, blight-
    Untainted, perfect as the spotless life
That lives within this Man and now His spotless Wife.

One life, one love, one soul, one house
        One home, one spirit, by God's grace
                To spouse and spouse
Belong, provided to the bride who sought God's face.
    The Lord provides; the bride no dowry brings.
            With eager hands she clings
    His hands in hers, and holding onto Life,
The man and woman mix their lives as Man and Wife.  

The truelove bride of Christ (the one
        Good man and perfect alpha male)
                Shines like the sun
And puts the happy ending on the Hero's tale.
    All that is good and great and true and fair
            Are present in the pair
    That here embarks upon a wedded life
Still to remain for one forever Man and Wife.

The veil is lifted.  See, O see
        The comely bride who is no more
                A bride-to-be!
The sacred rite perform'd, O come let us adore
    Him and His help meet.  Bless the Lord, my soul,
            My soul, O with your whole
    Heart! and rejoice! for Love an endless life
Possesses, all is right, and you're the Goodman's Wife!

Beneath the fair blue face of Heaven, harp
In hand, a shepherd flats a D that's sharp.
He plucks and tunes and finds the perfect pitch
And plays a harmony exceeding rich.
The afternoon is hot, and all the sheep
Are full of grass and falling fast asleep.
Cotton ball clouds go slowly floating by
While drowsy songbirds neither sing nor fly.
Even the shiny fish in waters cool
Nap in the cooler shadows in the pool.
Save for the sound of rills that gently spill,
All things are silent.  Everything is still.
     So too a watchful lion keeping eyes
Upon a ewe lamb dozing where she lies.
As still as stone he stalks his sleepy prey:
He's waited patiently the livelong day.
And now the time has come to work his plan,
While most at ease is bird and beast and man.
He takes the first small steps in his approach,
Then breaks into a run and completes the poach.
Bewildered sheep in panic loudly bleat—
Asleep to wide awake in one heartbeat!
The shepherd's senses rush, and running down
The brute, he smites the beast upon his crown.
Dazed and confused, the lion drops the lamb
That lives but by the grace of Him, I AM.
The shepherd grabs the lion's beard, and, hair
In hand, he slays him (as he'll slay a bear.)  
     Returning safe the lamb unto the flock,
The shepherd goes and stands upon a rock.
He lifts his hands to God, and, singing psalms
Of praise, he gives the LORD who's God his palms.
Cotton ball clouds go slowly floating by
As stars begin to twinkle in the sky.

Who love the LORD they fear,
Enter and worship here.  
Who love or know Him not,
Enter, but fear a lot.

Reformed euangelist of higher beautie
And higher loue that springeth forth from Truth,
Thou didst amend, according to thy dutie,
Thine indiscretions born of lustfull youth,
And didst so well, with wisdom from the tooth.
Repentance liued will giue the liuer life,
But sinne, redoubled daily, death and strife.
I read repentance in thy later verses,
And see the visions of the heauenlies.
Thy poetry baptizes and immerses
The rapt reader in sights diuine who sees
Life and the vanity of vanities.  
Saluation doth belong to those who bear
Witness of Him, the liuing Truth, in prayer.

Was ever grief like Thine,
    Who finished, dregs and all,
The bitter cup of wine?
Was ever grief like Thine,
Who tasted of the vine
     Of the grapes of wrath and gall?
Never was grief like Thine,
    Who finished dregs and all.

Out of the night that covers me,
     Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank my God, King Christ, for He
     Has come and conquered, O, my soul.

Clutched by a fate that's felt like chance,
     I've winced and wept and cried aloud.
Under the gaze of God, my stance
     Is on my knees.  My head is bowed.

Beyond the place of wrath and tears,
     Where Death casts shadows, shade on shade,
The menaces of bygone years
     Are disappeared.  My debts are paid.

My gait's as strait as heaven's gate,
     My way as narrow as a scroll.
Christ is the master of my fate.
     Christ is the captain of my soul.

The light that lights the world we call the Sun:
Intelligently operates the pun.
The Sun of righteousness no shadow hath:
His circuit through the dark's a narrow path.
Within the shining Sun no darkness dwells:
So too the Son, the Word the reader tells.
How painful it would be by going through
The Sun to die, and through the Son so too.
The light of all the world, the Sun is dim
Compared to the light that comes from Him.

A sinner first, and, worse, the worst backslider,
I've learnt a lot from list'ning to the spider.
Thanks be to God for sending such a teacher
To teach His dumbest, ignorantest creature.
I ascertain by methods of my guider
That God Himself (my Saviour) is my rider.

Knock, and it shall be opened unto you,
    If you, indeed, are true.
If so, the Bridegroom's door will open wide
    To let His guest inside.

Knock, but beware if true, indeed, you're not;
    For not one tittle or jot
Shall pass the Lion guarding, at attention,
    The door to God's dimension.  
He'll bounce you off the doorstep with a roar
    Like none you've heard before.

Water to wine and wine to precious blood
The Lord transfigures; taken at the flood,
    The dregs of outrageous fortune, once imbibed,
Will be like compost to a growing bud.  

So, drink and happy be, for all is well
In Paradise, where living waters swell
    The stilly stream by quiet pastures green,
And sheep in peace and perfect weather dwell.

"Pigeon droppings cited in bridge collapse"
                             —Toronto Star

Behold the ***** birds that felled a bridge
Of concrete, iron, and steel routinely made,
Dropping by dropping, pigeon after pige-
on adding contributions grossly laid.
An engineering feat commercial grade,
The bridge could not withstand the pigeon poo,
And, from the scourge of filth, the bridge decayed,
And fell as all decaying things will doo.
(When not creating mayhem, pigeons coo
And congregate and caper in the park,
Returning to their nests—tu-whit tu-whoo—
Before the owl can hunt them in the dark.)  
And so we see the danger we permit
When pigeons are allowed to give a ****.

2 Corinthians walk into a bar
Where the bartender is the Devil,
And they say to him, "We know who you are."
"Who am I?" asks the Living Evil.
They reply, "The wandering star
Fallen from the heaven you chose to abandon."  
"Yes," says the Devil, "and also President Brandon."

Greater than all created things summed up
And multiplied by immortality,
The LORD attends to every buttercup
And blade of grass and bird and bumblebee.
The greatest knows the least; and every man
His every hair has been accounted for;
And all of him is fitted to God's plan
The earth and chosen people to restore.  
Everything's His to give or take or loan,
And nothing lies beyond His lone control.  
Everything's His, and every thing is known
By Him who sees all parts and every whole.
He understands, both root and all, and all
In all, the flower in the crannied wall.

I.
In the beginning
God was,
And the blackbird
Was not.

II.
And Adam called it a blackbird;
And that was the name thereof.

How like You, my good father in heaven,
Is my good dad on earth.
His love is a free gift
That I've never had to work for.
I've never had to earn it,
And I never could earn it.

mosquito
made by
God
con spirito,
buzzzinging
by my
ear
(while birds are singing),
God
made u
& i

As true as the Trinity
And Christ's divinity,
And as heavy as gravity,
My total depravity
Is undeniable.
But God created me justifiable,—
Me, who's more of a Don Knotts
Than an Isaac Watts.

Of all the moms that grace my life,
     Mom, you're the mom that's best of all.
I thank You, God, for my awesome mom,
     The bestest mom since mankind's fall.

The world's a farce and false, and You
Alone, good God, are Truth and true.

The Holy Bible, th'historie of man,
And God and man, and God as man on earth;
The true account of how the world began;
The treasure mapp that leades to love and mirth;
The looking glasse wherein is seene the faire
Image of God, and all man's ugly sinnes;
The written word of God for ev'ry heir
Of saving grace who runnes the race and winnes;
The booke of lyfe writ in my Saviour's bloud,
Dictated in the Spirit's whisper'd breath;
The foil for ev'ry curse; the cure for death;
The greatest booke about the greatest good;
The pasture for the sheepe; the sheepefold ****;
Manna from heav'n; the ladder up to God.

Thanks be unto God,
For every good and perfect gift
Comes down from the Father of lights
Who causes us in Christ
The world to overcome
And to joyfully sing.  

I am a man flawed,
A Christian the Devil will sift
For a season.  But the serpent bites
His own tongue, in time; and I, imparadised,
Will ask him when he's dumb,
Death, where is thy sting?

I don't have a president:
I have a King
Who trumps the Chump
And Donald Trump,
And works seven
Days a week for Heaven,
Not Beijing. ​
The laws I observe are God-sent.

Tick tock, tick tock:
God has the pow'r
To bust the clock
And break the hour,

To stand the sun
Still in the sky
Till Joshua's won
His victory.

Time will disband
All flesh that's grass:
Time is just sand
That passes glass.

With much ado
A year's begun,
But nothing's new
Under the sun.

Blessed is he who shuns the road
Advis'd by wicked men to travel,
And stands not in the sinner's way
     Upon that stony gravel;
Nor sits within the scornful's seat
To look with pride upon the street.

But his delight is in the law
Of God, and night and day, and day
And night, he meditates on this:
     He ponders it alway.
Blessed is he who knows the rod
Is wielded by a loving God.  

Blessed is he, for he shall be
A planted tree by rivers wet
With living waters, bearing fruit
     In season, fruit thickset.
His water'd leaf will wither not,
And he will prosper on the spot.

Not so th'ungodly.  They will parch
Alike a desert dune at noon,
And blow about like so much chaff,
     And o'er the earth be strewn.
Far and away, away and far,
The wicked evil scattered are.

Therefore the wicked shall not stand
In judgment, but, instead, be judg'd.
No sinners join the congregants
     Of God, lest God be smudged.  
God gives his children cherishing
While wickedness goes perishing.

Out of the depths I cry
To You, Father of Lights!
My God, who reigns on high,
Out of the highest heights,
Please, God, look down on me
And turn to me an ear,
That You a son may see,
His supplications hear.

Were You each sin to count,
To weigh, and make us bear,
Lord, who could stand th'amount
To shoulder where'er they err?
No one.  But God forgives.
Fearsome, the Lord God reigns.
With sovereign pow'r He lives,
The pow'r to whiten stains.

I wait for You, O Lord:
O Lord, my soul will wait.
My hope is in the Word,
And so my hope is great.
And more, O more than they
Who watch and wait for morn,
My soul awaits, I say,
Awaits You, unforlorn.  

Israel, trust in Him:
Redemption plenteous
For guilty sinners grim
He offers in overplus.
Israel, hope in God,
For God is merciful:
He will not spare the rod,
But covers it with wool.

Eternally
Forever, He
Will be in me:
One Man are we.
Our lives have been spliced,
That I may be
One flesh with Christ.

On him who isn't worthy
    To wash his savior's feet,
To drink his savior's lifeblood,
    The bread of life to eat;

On him who is most wretched
    Of all who wretched be—
On the first and worst of sinners—
    Have mercy, Lord, on me.

I am a little worm
     Made cunningly,
A little squirming germ
     Made stunningly.

Yet He, the Lord God, He
     Who's all in all,
Listens to me—to me—
     The fall in all.

Abba, the world too much
   Is with me day to day:
   I'll walk the narrow way
Homeward, my cross in clutch.  

Order my steps, my LORD,
   Behind Him (step by step),
   My Savior, while I schlep
My cross and shield and sword.

The Sonne of God my shepheard is:
                I am
                His lamb.
I shall not want, for I am His.

He leadeth me to tender grasse
                Where I
                Do lie,
And where still waters gently passe.

He doth restore (and therein blesse)
                My soule,
                Makes whole
My finely shatter'd brokennesse.

My comfort is His staffe and rod:
                They prove
                The love
And mercy of the Sonne of God.

For His names sake, my shepheard leades
                His keepe
                Of sheepe
Through righteous wayes 'twixt thornes and weedes.  

Yea, though I walke through Deaths blacke vale
                Of shade,
                Affrayd
I'm not, for Thou dost leade my trayle.  

Sith Thou art with me, Lord, no feare
                I'll have:
                I'll brave
Evil with ease and eke good cheare.

Thou dost prepare, amid my foes,
                My food:
                Renew'd
I am, and my cuppe overflowes.

Thou dost with oyle anoint mine head,
                Dost poure
                It o'er
The living head that once was dead.

Surely goodnesse and mercy shall
                With me
                E'er be,
For Thou'rt my home and life and all.

Fly home, sweet Soul.  Take flight and fly with Trust.
Remove yourself from here and hurry hence.
Bid not a fond farewell to Pride and Lust:
Simply abandon them to Time's past tense.
Reject the world, the dingy world and dense,
And seek the face of Him our Lord to see.
Close your account with the world: the recompense
Is greater than all worldly wealth could be.
Bloom into heaven; flower like a tree;
And glory in the glory of your flesh
Revivified and glorified and free
Forevermore, and ever clean and fresh.
The Lord who puts the nails to Death and Time
Would have you home with Him in heaven's clime.

I have a single father: Father God
My perfect one and only father is.
It's He who feeds my family, plies the rod,
Provides for all my needs, because I'm His.
Nor priest nor pope nor any celibate
Should so be called lest it should pierce his ears.
The church one father has to celebrate,
A single father.  I praise Him, for He hears!  
Father of Christ, and father, too, of me,
I have the greatest father that could be.
In Christ, I have the greatest brother-friend,
A Godsend sent from Him on whom I depend.
This day, like every other day since day
The first, belongs to Him to whom I pray.

Father, my dad's a good good dad
The bestest dad that was ever had.
No man has ever had a better
(I swear upon my life) begetter,
(Except for Christ, the only one,
Because he's Your begotten Son.)  
He's the greatest man after my Lord,
And by his son, God, he's adored.

Betrayal being Satan's favorite game,
He lures with promises of ill-gained fame.
His minions rise in rank (and further fall),
Each thinking that they're favored over all.
But Satan rather most delights to roast
Those servant-fools who do for him the most.

The tree of life is watered with her tears
Who mourns the Word of God denied by fools.
She weeps amid the sounds of jests and jeers:
While mockers mock she sheds her sorrow's jewels.
Her jewels return to dust whence all jewels come.
Rivers of burning tears run rapid, fed
By bottomless wells of grief; the ****** scrum
Disgracefully disports before the dead.
Her bleeding broken heart begins to quake.
It breaks the earth and splits it. Streams of blood
Divine and tears the purest form a lake,
Pooling with torment, heaven, hell, and mud.
Within her heart a sea of bitterness swells.
Her grief, the ocean's roar, resounds in shells.

The Most High in Heaven
Seventy times seven
Times has forgiven
This sinner who should 
In twain be riven,
For the LORD is good.

The day is done;
The summer sun
    Has set.
In quiet nests
Soft lovebirds' *******
     Duet.

My fledgling faith
Will soon defy death,
     Ascend,
And fly about
A day without
     An end.

Good morning, God.
The dawning day
Chases night's ghosts
     Away.
The heralds of morn,
The early birds,
Are singing songs
     With words.

Good God, who sees
Each every squirm,
And gives the bird
     The worm,
Give us this day
Our daily bread
(And light and life)
     Instead.

How doth the merry little lamb
     Whose fleece is white as snow,
And who was born a very ram,
     A-frolic to and fro.

He sports and plays, doth safely graze,
     And spots a busy bee;
And for a moment he doth chase
     The bug with mirthful glee.

A moment more, he's crying out,
     And bleating with dismay.
The bee has stung him on the snout
     And marred his splendid day!

Beware, the bee is only friend
     To others of his kind.
The stinger on his latter end
     Was made for lambs to mind.