Palm Sunday (a Poem)

Matthew 21:1-11, Zechariah 9:9, Colossians 1:15-20, Psalm 62, Psalm 68:32-33, Isaiah 11, Luke 1:51-52, John 1:16, Ephesians 3:19

The King arrives, but on a colt
Has he no image to uphold?
He rides in on a donkey's foal
Is exaltation not his goal?

Yet thus are prophecies fulfilled
In him who spoke and waters stilled
And that same breath here bears more weight
Than all the lowly and the great

In th'balances they rise as one
Like feathers, weighed against the Son
Of God and Man, in whom the high
And low both find their archetype

Hosannas from the common rise
To him whose way was in the skies
But now is on a burden-beast
Identifying with the least

As with Balaam an ass has been
Exalted over lords of men
For this one bore such weight alone
Of glory as will crush each throne

Of worldy kings, and make them mules
Their robes the frippery of fools
Against Eternity enfleshed
Accepting praise thus poorly dressed.

See how the mighty are brought down!
How all the humble, from the ground,
Are raised up by the Lord who rides
In meekness, though in him resides

All majesty, dominion, pow'r,
Authority, while in this hour
Abasement is his exaltation
Th'ensign raised for ev'ry nation

Glorious shall be his rest
Who makes his glory manifest
In lowliness, on donkey's back
His fullness giving for our lack.

Ghosts Upon the Waves

When the sky reflects the sea
And the waves in torment be
We'll lift our eyes to test our faith
And walk like ghosts upon the waves

And though the sea and sky collide
Let our gaze waver not from Thine
That in the storm and ocean's dance
Our hearts may learn to be steadfast

Like rocks amidst the tossing sea
Impervious, teach us to be
Not blown about by wind or change
Not fearing thunder, wave, or rain

Like angels, walk; like mountains, stand
Our faith in Thine unfailing hand.

Reason for Created Sight

Thank You, Lord, for sunsets: rose-impressioned skies
Thank You for Your grace: Your loving presence in our lives
One day we shall see Your face, with wholly unveiled eyes
That uncreated Beauty, reason for created sight.

Anxiety

Lord, since all eternity
And time are in Your hand
Let my only worry be
To do as You command.

And since Your holy Word contains
All I could need or pray
Only this concern remains:
To listen, and obey.

You Make a Mockery of Ev'ry Boundary

You make a mockery

Of ev'ry boundary,

Eternal Life, Who stole our death

To plunder grave and hell,

Almighty God, Who as a Man

Did deign with us to dwell

Here making light of sufferings

And burdens we did own

Though not by jeering, but Your strength

In bearing every one.

Not death alone, but also sin --

First cause of ev'ry grief --

You carried off upon Your back

And brought us back relief.

Inverting poverty and wealth

To meet the debt accrued,

Becoming as we are, a slave

You paid what we owed You

As, turning barriers to doors,

Incarnate, dying, You

Made of divided natures one,

Partitions tore in two.

In furthest exile, shaming all

The distances we'd run,

You met us there, Who are our Home:

All banishment undone.

Your rising made of death a joke --

As well, mortality

Ascended to make all Your own

Share Your divinity

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Be First and Last (A Prayer)

Rev. 1:8-19 + John 3:21

Almighty One, Who are, Who were,
   Who ever yet shall be,
Be First and Last in all my thoughts
   And all that comes between
That all my words might echo Thine
   My deeds be wrought in Thee.
       Amen.

Isaiah 46:3-4

3 “Listen to me, O house of Jacob,
    all the remnant of the house of Israel,
who have been borne by me from before your birth,
    carried from the womb;
4 even to your old age I am he,
    and to gray hairs I will carry you.
I have made, and I will bear;
    I will carry and will save." ~Isaiah 46:3-4 (ESV)


Lord, You have borne me up these many days and nights
Upon an ocean wild and deep.
You have carried me, and ever been my Light
Remained awake, that I might sleep.
And though the rain and wind continue still
You bear me yet within Your hand.

And every grief and pain that I had ever known
You took upon Yourself, and for
A time You wandered here, that I might find a home.

And when no cure was found
For the sickness of my soul
You gave me of Your very blood to drink
That the curse in mine might be replaced
With the life that flows in Yours.

Then when I could not stand
You broke Your flesh, for me to eat
That my weakness might be adequate
When filled up by Your strength.
And though my stumbling continues still
You bear me yet within Your hand.


[This is the oldest poem I have yet posted on here. I wrote it around 10 years ago, now. I was/am in the process of editing it, but I felt like I should post the original first. Enjoy, and God bless.]