Poems

Psalm 139:9, 10 If I take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea; even there shall thy hand lead me, and thy right hand shall hold me. My son is on a ship tonight just where, I cannot tell He's keeping watch and peering at the inky, sequinned swell.

I awake each morn to a brand-new day, Singing Halleujah! as I go on my way, For my heart is fixed on this one guarantee: The Love that is All holds me tenderly. REFRAIN: Tender mercies, oh tender mercies, Tender mercies are holding me.

Longshoremen crane and shred old rusted cars, load heavy freight at harbor docks till nine— they transport metal scrap to ports afar. All day ships sail beyond horizon lines.

O Thou unchanging Truth, whose facts eternal give us the courage to outface the storm, to rise against the senses' swift alarm and stand unmoved at Spirit's high tribunal, Thy Word acquits us and Thy Word is final. O Thou abundant Life, whose freshness daily admits no common round, no dull routine, this is our joy and this our discipline, to take Thy gift of life and use it fully; this is our highest task, to spend it freely.

I am the Lord, there is none else; There is no God beside Me. I girded thee, I girded thee, Though thou hast not even known Me.

Rise up and walk, take up your bed. With these few words the sickness fled.

Spirit is around us, close as air. We breathe Truth in; it forms the "isness" here.

Though I may speak with moving words, Which can inspire the heart of man, But have no love to seal their worth, They are but emptiness and sham. Though I may give my worldly goods Without a thought of self or gain, Unless they bear the fruits of love They are as clouds without their rain.

It was a cheerless script, that mortal tale— claiming to be my past, my story. A litany of missed chances, condemnation, and regret.

Door of stone, walls of rock, windowless tomb— Son of God crucified, shrouded, left to lie in silent endless night .