Dear Lord, when days turn gray
Long before noon, and my hope
Fades, my dreams moved to a tomb–
Be then all my peace.
See my deepest need.
Restore in me the joy You bring
While I dwell on this lovely thing:
The thorns which pierced Your brow–
The same that’ve cursed the ground–
Have lost their power now.
Lord of my salvation,
Jesus, King of Heaven,
Christ, my manna given–
Son of my Creator,
Of good, there’s none higher,
God who came down, nearer–
Have Your deepest patience,
Mercy, and forgiveness
On my total weakness:
Me–the one who needs You
(A Blood Shield of life-true)–
Sinner, seeking life-new.
Dipped my bread in the same dish, Lord,
And could have hung from a tree–
If You had not, by grace,
Kept that offer of silver from me.
So let me not rejoice
In another’s dreadful fate
But mourn the aweful cost
Of a “friend’s” priceless mistake…
And weep also-besides
For Your tender kindness, free.
Creator God who stitches stars
Into the nighttime canvas:
Shine on me
And make me be
One who, tomorrow,
Displays Your illumination,
Somehow, a bit more gloriously.
Not so they will ooo and ah
At me, the tiny shell;
No, but that they
Would take their place
In Your redemption story.
Come, Lord Jesus, come.
Bring to my heart Your flood,
Though really just one drop
Of blood
Would do–
To make my conscience clean,
Secure my way to God,
And help me crave the good,
Which–yes–
Is You.
Lord, when we pray in faith,
What’s it sound like to You?
Like the wail of a baby,
Or the dance of the dew,
Or the wind through the pine trees,
Or the trill of a flute?
Or something altogether different
Because Your listening, so magnificent,
Hears Your Spirit who translates
So that our words join Heaven’s symphony?
You told me to knock, God, and seek earnestly,
And promised You’d then, with what’s good, meet my needs.
But there, in the midst of my knocking, I thought
Of how I’m not really the First to have knocked.
For You first loved my heart, saw me in my plight,
Came to request entry on my darkest night.
So my need–the greatest–already was met
When You entered in me, restored life to give.
And now when I, in faith, should seek, knock, request,
Help me to remember: You always know best.
The sun is shining brightly, Lord, outside;
It drove away the clouds so early-dark.
There’s nowhere for the early cold to hide–
And yet, it still returns in wind-waves, hard.
Behind this wall, I only feel the warmth
And smile at the brightness of the view–
Until I need to open up the door
To heed the knock of someone passing through.
Then, just one blast of breeze will make me gasp
And shiver, wishing I had grabbed my coat.
I will, in frantic motion, rush right back
To that safe seat I occupied before.
Now let me be reminded from this scene
How You my Shelter–warm–have always been.
To the Lamb who I worship, One part of the Three,
I ask Him to supply a heart from which I can see,
Always, truth He’s said
And two things that are red:
The blood I have spilt–even figuratively–
And His justifying, precious blood poured out for me.
Lord, is it silly to ask You
What is best,
When the answer is always You
And also always what You do?
Well, anyway, thanks for letting me ask.
And thanks for showing me enough.
And thanks for loving me
When I get bogged down and confused.