In Your Arms

Stand!

"Finally, my brethren, be strong in the Lord, and in the power of his might. Put on the whole armour of God, that ye may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil. For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high [places]. Wherefore take unto you the whole armour of God, that ye may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand" (Ephesians 6.10-13).

The Fool's Prayer-- by: Edward Rowland Sill

THE FOOL'S PRAYER

by: Edward Rowland Sill (1841-1887)

THE royal feast was done; the King
Sought some new sport to banish care,
And to his jester cried: "Sir Fool,
Kneel now, and make for us a prayer!"

The jester doffed his cap and bells,
And stood the mocking court before;
They could not see the bitter smile
Behind the painted grin he wore.

He bowed his head, and bent his knee
Upon the Monarch's silken stool;
His pleading voice arose: "O Lord,
Be merciful to me, a fool!

"No pity, Lord, could change the heart
From red with wrong to white as wool;
The rod must heal the sin: but Lord,
Be merciful to me, a fool!

"'Tis not by guilt the onward sweep
Of truth and right, O Lord, we stay;
'Tis by our follies that so long
We hold the earth from heaven away.

"These clumsy feet, still in the mire,
Go crushing blossoms without end;
These hard, well-meaning hands we thrust
Among the heart-strings of a friend.

"The ill-timed truth we might have kept--
Who knows how sharp it pierced and stung?
The word we had not sense to say--
Who knows how grandly it had rung!

"Our faults no tenderness should ask.
The chastening stripes must cleanse them all;
But for our blunders -- oh, in shame
Before the eyes of heaven we fall.

"Earth bears no balsam for mistakes;
Men crown the knave, and scourge the tool
That did his will; but Thou, O Lord,
Be merciful to me, a fool!"

The room was hushed; in silence rose
The King, and sought his gardens cool,
And walked apart, and murmured low,
"Be merciful to me, a fool!"

"The Fool's Prayer" is reprinted from The Little Book of American Poets: 1787-1900. Ed. Jessie B. Rittenhouse. Cambridge: Riverside Press, 1915.

The Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir--Psalm Three

Hiding Place

Hiding Place

Before the Throne

Lord, You're Holy

Does God Exist?

"Sweet Jesus" --Selah

"All of Me" --Selah

L'Envoi --Rudyard Kipling

L'ENVOI

When Earth's last picture is painted and the tubes are twisted and dried,
When the oldest colours have faded, and the youngest critic has died,
We shall rest, and, faith, we shall need it -- lie down for an aeon or two,
Till the Master of All Good Workmen shall put us to work anew!

And those that were good shall be happy: they shall sit in a golden chair;
They shall splash at a ten-league canvas with brushes of comets' hair;
They shall find real saints to draw from -- Magdalene, Peter, and Paul;
They shall work for an age at a sitting and never be tired at all!

And only the Master shall praise us, and only the Master shall blame;
And no one shall work for money, and no one shall work for fame,
But each for the joy of the working, and each, in his separate star,
Shall draw the Thing as he sees It for the God of Things as They Are!

"Hours of Flight"

Hours of Flight

Allan M. Bailey

“...The truth shall make you free.”¹ said He.

Live, and Love, in Light.

Hopeful yearnings, betrayed by some

Can cause internal flight.

Yet the days go by and time marches on,

They are the friend of none;

Divine partitions, lines in the sand

A refugee, and not, a son.

Drawn to Light, and compelled to death

A sojourner in the land--

Spiritual refugees--

Are more than wind-whipped desert sand.

Ostracism creates withdrawal.

Hate in Jesus' name?

Respecting not the proud²

Means that someone is to blame.

The war rages on, the scars run deep,

Hope rears its fateful head.

Screams within the darkest night,

demand the spirit must be fed.

"Sweet hour of prayer! Sweet hour of prayer!

That calls me from a world of care,

And bids me at my Father's throne

Make all my wants and wishes known.

In seasons of distress and grief

My soul has often found relief,

And oft' escaped the tempter's snare,

By thy return Sweet Hour of Prayer."³

A beaten dog always knows its place.

He seeks his master's hand.

Trepidly, prepared, to bite and run--

A stranger, in a foreign land.

Truth perseveres and Hope remains.

All hands, hold not, a whip.

Truth ensconced in human lies

is Truth, yet truth to wit.

“All extremes become their opposites.”

Heathen Confucius, did once say.

Fishers of men, consume the fish.

Faithlessness, abounds, today.⁴

Yet the burning question, remains for all...

'What, of what you've found?'

Pain is the greatest teacher.⁵

There seems much pain all-'round.

Embrace the Truth, through the searing pain.

Draw near, and see the Light.⁶

Look-full on The Master's face, and know

That He, has not willed, the fight.⁷

Strife and scorn, spite and vice--

Evil in the night--

Wicked dissimulation—

beyond, the resistance of might⁸⁹

Masters, who beat, the sheep;

Are not shepherds of the fold.

The resources of, the ninety and nine--

They'd rather, more, to hold.

Sweet Hour of Prayer—it calls me still

And bids me do my Father's will.

The hand which ever holds a whip

Will of a truth, surreal-ly slip.

Beyond the fearsome stormy blast

The Father's love is sure and fast.

Truth ever lives, beyond decay

And hearkens to that fateful day;

When all the world, shall know and kneel

And yield to God's desire to heal.

Oh may He bid that day draw nigh

A find beneath a parted sky;

Faithful children, waiting still

to heedless, do, their Father's will.

Allan

1John 8.32

2James 4

3“Sweet Hour of Prayer!” William B. Bradbury, Public domain

4Ezekiel 34 (The Faithless Shepherds)

5Prometheus

6James 4

7James 4

8Romans 12.9

9Wikipedia, Dissimulation, Accessed: August 15, 2009

Psalm 2.3

3 “Let us break their bands, and cast their cords from us.”

Psalm 2.2

2 "The kings of the earth band themselves, and the Princes are assembled together against the Lord, and against his Christ.”

Psalm 2.1

1 "Why do the heathen rage, and the people murmur in vain.”

Psalm 1.6

6 "For the Lord knoweth the way of the righteous, and the way of the wicked shall perish."

Psalm 1.5

5 "Therefore the wicked shall not stand in the judgment, nor sinners in the assembly of the righteous."

Psalm 1.4

4 "The wicked are not so, but as the chaff, which the wind driveth away."

Psalm 1.3

3 "For he shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of waters, that will bring forth her fruits in due season: whose leaf shall not fade: so whatsoever he shall do, shall prosper."

Psalm 1.2

2 "But his delight is in the law of the Lord, and in his law doth he meditate day and night."

Psalm 1.1

1 "Blessed is the man that doth not walk in the counsel of the wicked, nor stand in the way of sinners, nor sit in the seat of the scornful."

Providence on the Pier

Last night I watched a shark die on the pier. Writhing against the grappling hook, he was hoisted from the black abyss like a Babylonian leviathan claiming his prize.

The clarity of moonlight through a brisk on-shore flow irradiated black clouds from within and gave them rims of luminescent silver. Again, the black clouds shifted ever changing and obscuring light.

On parting, the light fell onto the frothy cusps of eight foot swells. The waves strove against one another. Each wave of strife rested on the tumult that had come before.

The end of a pier on a Spring evening is the gateway to a strange void. The water crashes upon itself as it nears the end of its voyage. Barnacles make a nest, on hosts, in its torrents and above it all one can hear it beneath himself.

Bells toll on buoys unseen and my I-Pod shuffles to the next song. From empty stone cathedrals in Edinburgh, Scotland a remarkable choir begins to sing in full and resounding harmony:

"Eternal Father, strong to save,
Whose arm hath bound the restless wave,
Who biddest the mighty ocean deep
Its own appointed limits keep;
Oh, hear us when we cry to Thee,
For those in peril on the sea!

O Christ! Whose voice the waters heard
And hushed their raging at Thy Word,
Who walked on the foaming deep,
And calm amidst its rage didst sleep;
Oh, hear us when we cry to Thee,
For those in peril on the sea!

Most Holy Spirit! Who didst brood
Upon the chaos dark and rude,
And bid its angry tumult cease,
And give, for wild confusion, peace;
Oh, hear us when we cry to Thee,
For those in peril on the sea!

O Trinity of love and power!
Our family shield in danger’s hour;
From rock and tempest, fire and foe,
Protect us wheresoever we go;
Thus evermore shall rise to Thee
Glad hymns of praise from land and sea."

Last night I watched a shark die on the pier.

Five feet long and as big around as a volleyball. He writhed until the hatchet met its mark. I watched. Strange colors that not even the night could obscure.

Archetypes:

• The unknown night
• The brisk wind
• Glimpses of illumined reality
• The tumult beneath me
• Death and lilting strains of Providence...