Each Day A Praise

Friday, March 11, 2011

2 Samuel 22: 4-7

Such desolation and debris

The world is torn apart

And in its shattering it tore

A hole within my heart

The waves that broke the world in two

Welled up behind my eyes.

I weep in fear, I call to you,

Oh Lord, please hear my cries.

Oh let this all be just a dream.

How can such pain be true?

I’m lost within the whirling waves;

There’s nothing I can do,

But lift my voice to you, oh Lord,

And weep within my fears.

Dear Lord, please heed these tears I cry,

Let my pleas reach your ears.

Turn back the waves of grinding death,

Let my world rise anew,

That I may wipe my tears and stand

To build again in you.

2 Samuel 22: 4-7

4 “I called to the LORD, who is worthy of praise,
   and have been saved from my enemies.
5 The waves of death swirled about me;
   the torrents of destruction overwhelmed me.
6 The cords of the grave coiled around me;
   the snares of death confronted me.

7 “In my distress I called to the LORD;
I called out to my God.
From his temple he heard my voice;
my cry came to his ears.

Thursday, March 10, 2011

Please Speak Up

That still quiet voice

That leads me to you

Better speak up

If it’s to get through.

My world is too busy

To hear a small voice,

It has to be loud

To cut through the noise,

There’s work and worry

And all of the bills.

I have to handle

Too many folk’s ills.

I’m too overwhelmed

To hear quiet words

And just sitting still,

Well, that’s for the birds!

And though I know I

Should listen to you,

You’ll have to speak up,

A small voice won’t do!

1Kings 19: 11-12

11And he said, Go forth, and stand upon the mount before the LORD. And, behold, the LORD passed by, and a great and strong wind rent the mountains, and brake in pieces the rocks before the LORD; but the LORD was not in the wind: and after the wind an earthquake; but the LORD was not in the earthquake:

12And after the earthquake a fire; but the LORD was not in the fire: and after the fire a still small voice.

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

Mark 9: 30-32

Though I will die,

You need not cry

For I will not be gone.

My words will speak,

To those who seek

And I will linger on.

Those words will rise

Within their eyes

Like sun awaking dawn.

When I’m unheard

My every word

Will still cry out for me.

For though I fall,

My words will call

Through all eternity.

And when I’ve gone

Those words live on

To heal humanity.

Mark 9: 30-32

30 They left that place and passed through Galilee. Jesus did not want anyone to know where they were, 31 because he was teaching his disciples. He said to them, “The Son of Man is going to be delivered into the hands of men. They will kill him, and after three days he will rise.” 32 But they did not understand what he meant and were afraid to ask him about it.

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

Psalm 18

It’s just a broken, battered hulk,

A shabby memory;

Mollusk encrusted and decayed

By years washed in the sea

Yet as the haughty waves rush in,

Moving implacably,

They must break stride and wash around

The still defiant tree.

Psalm 18

³⁰ As for God, his way is perfect:
   The LORD’s word is flawless;
   he shields all who take refuge in him.
³¹ For who is God besides the LORD?
   And who is the Rock except our God?
³² It is God who arms me with strength
   and keeps my way secure.

Monday, March 7, 2011

A Tale of Two Gulls

One of stone, one of bone,

Yet both gulls seem to fly.

To the ground, one is bound,

The other to the sky.

He is strong, his life long

For he is made of stone.

But to rise to the skies

He needs weak flesh and bone.

Although bold, his are cold,

His wings, they cannot fly.

Thus he’s bound to the ground

He’ll never reach the sky.

Like a dream, it must seem

To this gull made of stone,

What great things are the wings

God made of flesh and bone.

Fragile things are our wings,

Yet, when they are unfurled,

We confound mortal ground

And rise above the world.

Sunday, March 6, 2011

A Slow Ride to Nowhere

Hitching a slow ride to nowhere

Beneath a misty sky;

I’m watching from my quiet post

As the green world slips by.

Sometimes I long to leave this perch,

To roam the living land,

But such is not your plan for me

And I trust in your plan.

So I will stay where I am perched,

It's what I want to do.

I’ve come to love this trip nowhere…

It has a lovely view.

Saturday, March 5, 2011

Patient Healing

Patient as the winter’s moss

In the gentle rain,

Is the healing of a heart

That’s known too much pain.

Patience is the only way

To mend pain that real,

And tears will spill like the rain

Til the hurt can heal.