29 March 2011
Lost amid the din and roar
A still small voice is here once more
Inviting me to come and rest
As one who truly could be blessed
But do I listen? Do I slow?
Too often still, the answer's no.
I've things to do, places to be
Expectations weigh sore on me.
For one who's drunk the draft of life
Other waters I still seek to soothe my strife.
Instead of seeking His load so light,
I shoulder my own with all my might
Though I always stumble, always fall
I still pretend I can handle it all
"I'm fine" I cry when friends do ask
"I'm up to the challenge! I'm up to the task!"
Weak and frail I dare not appear!
What would they think if they could
see in here?
Here where my darkest pains inside,
From my own self I try to hide.
I dare not seek His blessed rest
Lest I should fail to pass the test
If only I could for once just see
It is in my weakness He wants to be
Closer than a brother dear
The One to banish all doubt and fear.
Sweet waters of life and eyes to see
He freely offers you and me.
For one who's debt by Him was borne
I still yet fear the Accuser's scorn
When right there all along has been
A Father to welcome this prodigal in.
25 March 2011
I paused on my trail up the mountain vale
and looked back at the valley below
all the days I’d seen when eyes were keen
and the things I’d come to know.
I saw glints atop the places I’d stopped
where a life I'd tried to build
of hardships borne and hopes betorn
and promises unfulfilled.
Back then the end seemed far round the bend
I’d no thought for what I might find
whence came the days when I surely faced
fewer steps ahead than behind.
I saw rocks a’hewn and rubble strewn
where I’d struggled and where I fell
their imprints there and everywhere
each with its own tale to tell.
I saw a few sweet springs of dew
and joys I’d thought would last.
Never once did I fear those things so dear
could become part of ages past.
The mountain crest seemed at its best
foggy and unclear.
Too late I turned to lessons learned
until ‘twas too late for fear.
Now I can see with eyes that be
growing dim at an e'er quicker pace
that the paths I tried in foolish pride
left scars naught can erase.
The mountain looms with unknown dooms
though I know not what may befall.
Will I die so weak on that summit peak
still looming so grand and tall?
Or will I fall short, with no resort
by chance or pain or choice?
Will evil’s lure reach premature
to silence my wondering voice?
I’m rested now more, though my burden sore
lie heavier than I could have dreamed
when the mountain tall seemed almost all
ahead of me unseen.
But shouldering my pack, with one last look back
I set out on the trail once more
for no power of man can change the plan
that drives me on as before.
I cannot go back, though there’s no lack
of good intentions and regrets.
Nor can I lie and wait here to die
and loose life’s cruel fetts.
No, my only choice is to make my voice
more determined than before
to say what I must, to do what is just
and continue my climbing chore.
I can only host the trailing ghosts
that trod my long worn road
and make small amends, and where I can, make friends
to lighten each other’s load.