Not slow -
But patient,
Like love is patient.
Patient like watching the ark being built
And staying His torrential hand.
Patient like letting His friend Lazurus die
Knowing greater glory was planned.
Patient like explaining for the umpteenth time
How He must suffer at the hands of men.
Patient like watching Judas scheme
Waiting for His preordained end.

Not impatient to come again
Yet not slow to keep His promise,
Simply yearning that all might be saved
That salvation might be accomplished.

And I said to the man who stood at the gate of the year:
“Give me a light that I may tread safely into the unknown.”
And he replied:
“Go out into the darkness and put your hand into the Hand of God.
That shall be to you better than light and safer than a known way.”
So I went forth, and finding the Hand of God, trod gladly into the night.
And He led me towards the hills and the breaking of day in the lone East.

So heart be still:
What need our little life
Our human life to know,
If God hath comprehension?
In all the dizzy strife
Of things both high and low,
God hideth His intention.

God knows. His will
Is best. The stretch of years
Which wind ahead, so dim
To our imperfect vision,
Are clear to God. Our fears
Are premature; In Him,
All time hath full provision.

Then rest: until
God moves to lift the veil
From our impatient eyes,
When, as the sweeter features
Of Life’s stern face we hail,
Fair beyond all surmise
God’s thought around His creatures
Our mind shall fill.

My world was touched by his hand
And its loneliness was chased away
Into my world entered such happiness
And a greater need for his love to stay

He taught me to love all of mankind
Also to love His father first of all
Promising me if I did all these things
Never hard would ever be my fall

He filled my heart with a believing faith
Which he promised I could always keep
He told me not to ever  doubt again
As he would always be on call for me

He gave to me many sweet treasures
That to others he allowed me to share
He promised that even while I slept
That his love would always be near.

I see the junk in my heart, and my cry is this
I desperately need you , my Saving Lord God.
There is none patiently waits as you do my God.
For you are a Saving God whom rescue the Lost.
It is your Good purpose to allow us to go through things.
While we are going through them you are saving us.
I know that only you can save us, even from ourselves.
For there is much wickness within us Good Lord.
For it was and is your Good purpose is to save us God.

How silent that arena, unlit space,
The waters swirling, boundless, without form.
Each shapeless mass still waiting for its face,
Suspended life, the calm before the storm.
When suddenly a Voice above was heard--
To animate the void with just His Word.

That Word made Matter, Space, Duration, Light,
And yet we knew within that substance dwelt
Immortal Wisdom, barely veiled from sight
Right there, encountered, tasted, heard, and felt.
A Holy God made manifest to all
By shrouding Glory in an earthly shawl.

Eternity embodied, set in time,
Enclosed in carbon, dust, in flesh and blood,
Each consonant now striking measured chime
To halt the vowel, staunch its endless flood.
God’s amaranthine thought seized by the host
Of endings and beginnings, least and most.

Long after that first Word wound up the clock
Long after grand Infinity was bound
In casing corporeal, God took stock,
And once again, from Heaven came a Sound:
Another Word to demonstrate His love,
The Son: incarnate Wisdom from above.

Thus age-old Truth, once cloaked in mystery
--Creation’s fixed ontology, well-known--
Could teach the Father’s plan for history
Within a mortal frame just like our own.
A Translator to speak so we could hear--
The Word, told in our mother-tongue, now clear.

Today that story’s told in pages worn,
The message free for those with ears to hear,
Of both the times Infinitude was born,
Once in our cosmos, once our human peer.
And I have held that Word within my hand,
And read, and learned, and come to understand.

When I see your Mighty Miracle, I struggle to breathe.
I become Breathless, anytime I see anything of you.
For to see you, the one whom heal the Blind here.
The very same one whom has raise the dead here too.
So yes you make me Breathless, you are Perfect.
Everything that I a lowly man owns come straight from you.
So yes I am your Servant, for I see you in everything.
You whom feed over five thousand people here on the earth.
So yes I am Breathless when I see you in everything here.

He leads me gently.
Yet.
Firmly.
With His Shepherd's
rod and staff.
Through every mountain
and valley.
Warning me to stay on
His path.
But then...
the Wolf comes.
He lures me.
He entices me.
To desire.
To lust after.
What my eyes see.
To crave the things
which do not satisfy.
To spend my wages
feeding on ashes.
Instead of the Bread
of His Word.
And His Presence.
I buy into the lie.
I stray.
I go my own way.
As my Shepherd looks on...
grieved and righteously angry.
He sorrowfully.
But sternly.
Breaks me with His rod.
To bring me back into the fold.
Back close to His heart.
He disciplines me in
His Love.
To spare me more pain.
Down the road.
To keep me near Him,
and in His arms enfold.
I cry out for mercy.
He hears my humble plea.
And.
Rescues me.
In tears of repentance
and desperation.
I fall on my knees.
His Blood washes over me.
And makes me clean.
I stand to my feet.
With renewed strength.
And lift my hands.
In praise.
In praise of His mercy.
In praise of His Love.
In praise for all He is.
In praise for my redemption.
In praise.
For His Shepherd's
rod and staff.
For He never fails.
To lead this wayward sheep.
Back to His path.

The gentleness of the Dove
Bang and Crash of Thunder
two sides of one flipped coin.

Nailed and ******* on hands and legs,
Maimed and marred beyond repair,
Cut and bruised out of shape,
Stripped and peeled, so bare to shock,

Lo, there lies a man! The Son of God,
On a cross erected on the summit of the Mount,
Brutally suspended between Earth and Sky,
Stationed amid thieves on either side.

He slipped and slithered under the yoke of weight,
And tottered the rugged route to Calvary,
Scourged and flogged all along,
He bore the cross with none to help.

Never complained nor cursed but suffered the pangs,
Never whined nor moaned, but drained the cup,
Through His death, mankind was to be redeemed,
By His precious blood, their infirmities to be cleansed

It was for our sins that He lay down His life,
It was our misdeeds that made Him bleed,
It was for our lust that He was painfully stripped,
It was our arrogance that bent Him low.

None could gauge the agony he endured,
No man ever performed such a daring deed,
To liberate mankind, the Lamb was slain,
To lead his Flock, He walked in front.

‘Love your enemy’ was the mantra He recited,
What He preached, He relentlessly practised,
While writhing in pain, He prayed for His foes,
Pleaded with his Father to spare the wrath.

When wrongly accused, never said He a word,
Unruffled remained He on painfully betrayed,
Hard it was to be deserted by those He loved,
Sore it was to be treated so very rude.


The Son of Man came seeking the missing sheep,
He builds from where everything is wrecked,
Rejoice in Him, for He is our Lord!
Adore and worship, He deserves to be praised.

Peace was what He promised the world,
Grace was what He gifted to all,
Look up to the Cross when trials confront,
And cast your burden at His feet!