Collage of The Old and the New

The Lord is my
hope and my salvation.
There is nothing I shall want.
In Him, hope springs
eternal, and hope
does not disappoint.
The Lord is my shepherd,
and, yea, e’en in the
valley of the shadow of
death I am not lost.
To whom else would I go?
“The Lord is my font,”
echoes my soul.
He is my portion and
to the brim fills my
cup. I am nourished by
His Word, and from
His Wisdom desert streams
to my thirst come.
Nothing can separate
me from the Love of the
Lord. He searches
me and knows me.
By His Cross He is my
Saving Hope – Christ Jesus,
the Only Begotten
Son of God.

In the Sheepfold

Isaiah 43:1

(“I Have Called You by Name”)

Oh, ’twas an unforgettable,
gorgeous, autumn day, and the
most important thing
to the petite shepherdess
was that she teach me of each
sheep the uniqueness of
their blessed name…

Creature

O Lord, You held me
cupped in Your hands, cradled
in Your arms. You made
me to tenderly lie against
Your bosom. You formed me and
shaped me until I was as
close to Your image and likeness
as a human creature could
become, and then You
looked into my face and
breathed my name, and like a
tiny mustard seed in
the womb You placed me –
into the innocent,
lush garden of an in utero,
warm enclave.^*

On Being Incarnate

And so from His poor birth
in a Bethlehem stable, He would come
to walk from dusty village to
village, or to be transported in rough
fishermen’s boats from one
bleak shore to the next, teaching
always about the messianic advent of
the Kingdom of God, all at the
same while His Father
was blowing galaxies and
trillions of stars from His almighty
palm to the far corners of an
incomprehensible cosmos, where
Jesus’ earthly redemptive act
could possibly also there apply – like
when the loaves and fishes
He amazingly multiplied, and
His salvation extended to
forms and natures of Creation
yet to be identified…

Grace

O my Lord,
You so easily peer into
my heart, winding Your way
deftly and knowingly through the darkened
corridors and staircases
and recesses of my soul –
and alas You find
me, on a slab in a drab
burial cloth, hidden
behind a hewn rock hitherto
unrolled – but just as in
the Garden of Eden when
You found Adam and Eve in leaves
aft their fall clothed, and
just as for Lazarus in
Bethany four-days aft his
death be told, You mercifully
summoned me forth,
and grace’s white raiment You
chose I wore.