At the Last Supper he spoke of his joy,
spoke of his joy to his friends.
When their Master walked in wider room
beyond the cross, beyond the tomb,
he left them his message of joy to bear—
a joy that none could take from them—
out to the world's far ends.
Joy is not something others give
or steal away by ruse or whim.
It does not come from east or west,
from word or deed of her or him.
It is not stored beyond our grasp,
nor boxed away by bar and lock.
It does not wait for turning leaf
of calendar or hand of clock.
To yesterday it is not tied,
nor does it in tomorrow hide.
Joy is not something we can win
or lose between a dawn and dusk.
It is not governed by the spin
of coin or wheel, the fall of dice
or turn of card. It is not earned
by toil or purchased at a price.
