My westward paths by muddied fields,
The leaves turn amber panes in light,
Come displaced windows of stained glass,
Speak glory in a holy field.

Is this the evening fry on homeward air?
Like far off sounds of sea through fraying wires,
The thin receding wind in open skies,
I long for everhome.
Where all the days are young.

I'd never leave the house of friends,
Or cease to soon become,
I'd have all curiosities,
But truly set on one,
I'd walk with you by wood and stream,
Far to the higher hills...

The wake of open fields lies deep behind,
Wide sparsity swept in tended lilies,
These paths with you lie thickening with words,
For on your garden paths I have found ease,
Not of the brittle kind but ringing true,
Like through the fear all curiosity,
Like through tired eyes all life's abundant joys,
Like this the deepest solace within pain,
Like this the firmest purpose within toil.

When every path swings widely through the plain,
My Lord, come lead me in the'ternal way,
For there is naught no other love as this,
No vibrant peace nor everlasting stay,
But you, in you, all things would have a name.

The glory of a rock as sure as this,
Compels my weary heart to make a home,
For thrashing waves are muzzled at the crash,
The fiercest winds fall limp upon the stone,
And so in pleased sight of Jealousy,
My heart has found true home,
And so in burning gaze of Loyalty,
My feet shall rest alone.

O elevated sky - the dazzle and the brilliance,
The lilting lilac to the sunflower spills,
All cast on steely teal of brooding cloud,
What fine descent as though a crown on weary heads below,
Such light to fascinate falls on a cross,
A quiet field 'neath spire embodied praise,
The grave is still as on all fine autumnal eves tonight,
The beauty harrows in the death. O man,
O man, o finite child, go on, go on,
Remember that your time falls weakly on the earthen stage,
That you are dust and yet so saved,
That you are fleeting yet so clothed,
In robes imperished sewn from liquid gold and strength etern',
O man, take heart, the light shines even on the quiet fields.

Away in hills.
How much I long to find in steps
The pace of unpent thought,
Some kind of room to breath
In every truer sense than flesh,
Darling oak and little stream,
Such quiet beauty stirs the loves,
You are the backdrop of my way,
You are the lodge of weary souls,
For you are whiff and shadow of The Great:
The gentle one who walks in all my ways,
Who knows me and draws out my every song.

The turn to see so dear a brother,
So samely seated at the cross,
It is so truly great a treasure,
To share with you in life and loss,
I see in hazy dim our paths,
So stretching on and on,
What glory that they'd cross right here,
And surely ever on and on.

I call You Great Comforter, friend,
The standing rock in splashing seas,
All else is deathly deep but you,
On you I find my feet. My feet,
Shall never falter this I know,
For you are firm though all else moves,
And even time finds pause in you.
And even stars find night in you.
And even stones find songs in you!
And even I'll find peace in you.

A careful walk with poise,
Through lakes of fire and frozen voids,
The line between so scarce,
So raw with love and such courage,
Lord help us walk the path.

Steady over sun-kissed fields,
The Lord deals mightily with me,
Firm seat of all the fears I yield,
What heights to which He cares for me!
Again I fall so stricken weak,
So full of little weariness,
But here a brother! This I seek,
Who tells me that the Lord's done more with less,
Who speaks to me the grace that we do share.

What wondrous kindling does make,
A contrite heart and budding love,
A muttered and exalted prayer,
On weary and impassioned lips,
With weak men You, Lord, level hills,
With killers You make merry saints,
With paupers You do shepherd kings,
We long to see what You will do with us!

Now sharing in His death,
To welcome in His life:
The water is far deeper,
Than shallows would so plead,
Behind the meager pool,
Lies weighty tragic sleep,
Truly the old self is entombed,
Much more the new unshackeled then!

Tell me, tell me of this grand success?
Who beholds it? From where does it descend?
Does it come in muted drips or furious sound?
Does it stay, and is it ever found?

Did you hold it from me so I would see?
This broken hope laid bare within my heart,
My hidden strongman's strength I came to love,
Has fled me so I weep.

Because my strength is spent and naught,
Because I hoist myself upon so frail a mount,
Because I didn't see the filthy hope I took,
In these frail wings you gave.

I weep because I wanted you,
And settled for a smaller thing,
Veiled from my eyes I stole,
A glance at this weak mortal frame.

Staring at my pacing feet,
The world is whistling by,
I scrutinise the inward step,
Bring in others to decide,
The path that is for me,
The way the truth provide,
The way of wisdom and more grace,
The way that life does lie.

The unkempt self, a swirl and
Dangerous wisp that plays pretend,
Sits nicely in neat clothes,
Talks nicely in neat words,

Until displeased with its own thought,
Displeased with its poor joke, it churns.
A veil that seethes upon the inward face,
Close breaking storm within the skull,

Less violent though more tense and still,
Like dull aches sparking upon pain,
Long weary sighs which hollowing,
Leave long pauses for an anti-self,

Oh what need I have for Thee!
Firm rock to break upon and mend anew,
To come with rage and leave with grace,
Know comfort and the very hope which spurred my Lord to death,

That I would become His and not my own,
My self would deeply hidden in His life,
Unshaken stand to follow Him to death,
Then through its belly to eternal joy.

The way of quiet clouds,
And homage of the muddy hills,
Humanity affirmed in slower days,
Though every tremor of the haste,
Lays close beside the resting heart,
It is a strength one does not have,
And so must humbly ask for peace.

What good is had in evil ways?
If turning to so frail a gain would not delay,
If it could lead you to the end of man,
It'd simply swerve to all that's true:

The pave to it is slick with unity,
Up through all power, knowledge, wealth,
Through every good to high glory,
To happiness where all is one, and there divine:

The truly happy - man's own end,
Cannot be had in paths that turn away,
For truly in the act man comes a beast,
He is dissolved, far from the Lord his nature seeks.

O Lord of grace the strength of all,
My weaknesses are bare before,
That you would grant me strength!
Enrap my arms with yours,
Crown me with the hidden crowns,
Of humble character firming pain,
For the great hope that beckons me.

O the weight now gone by grace,
The heights of simple light of life,
From depths of blindness filled with haste,
The horror and the wretched chains,
More metal bitten day by every cramping day.

Hell's poisen struck at its ver' root,
Cut out with all its cloying rust,
Was not the work of man - no badge
Of stoic dispassion nor hedonistic glee,
But truly God in humble robes - the mockers scorn who purchased me.

I wonder if we'll look on books when there,
When every lamp is snuffed and all is bright,
When brought beyond unapproachable light,
When pulled into the deepest cosmic care:

Then we will know the One who truly knows,
Perhaps He'll use a book or lengthy tale,
Or tapestries and symphonies, the awe!
Or quiet whispers for which every lan-
guage was devised, but more like honey and,
Resplendent dew, like babbling brooks and velvet sand.

Because of you I am so rich a man,
The sainthood ever mine a gift to be,
As I am samely sent from Christ to you,
To me your voice and chorus I can't sing,
Your wisdom, smiles and golden hearts I love,
To you my feet, my words, all I don't see,

We walk apart yet to the same true home,
Where all things rightly march else err to death.
The glory of the highest God supreme,
Uniting every fractured good we chased,
First place of Man to which he must return,
Drenched in the blood of God forever free.

Unpassing from this age,
Your glory's truer than a memory,
No second death will touch Your name,
Embedded on the minds of thoughtless shrubbery,

How much more at reason's root,
The canvas of Your moving eyes,
The meekness of Your face born out,
On mocking sneers that spurn the greatest love of every world,

Yet You would be undone to turn such sneers to deepest agony,
The kind to rock the soul and ruin but its truest light,
To spare by mercy those You'd take as friends,
To weep as they are made all right.

You hear my earnest plea,
I will ever look to Thee,
For You hear my earnest plea!

You move my heart like nothing else,
All that I am to shudders inexpress:
My grand terror and relief,
My haunting joy and sorrow,
My weakening and might!

O that I may fall so You would rise!
And cascade out the way like silver moon,
For in its rightful place its burns with glory.

Facing all our frailties,
Our strength comes frivolous and spent,
Our minds unbearably slow,
And footing inches from the empty air,
Where shall we turn but to Him still?
Our grounding and severest bet,
Our wager on eternity:
On goodness, peace and hope,
On our strong terror and assured ransom,
On divine reason that mutes the dragon.

So many nicks,
Accumulate like bites,
The tiny pricks,
That draw a storied line,
The fallen licks,
That marble hands in time,

The velvet and affronted red,
That calls to me about the dead,
About the day that I should go,
So humbly live with this I know:
I never truly see it as it is,
But hardly glimpse upon the fate of all and pray,
Lord would I truly see and humbly live.

In calling out I find my feet,
On precious rock to ground -
All chaos and despair falls weak,
Such mysteries profound,
Tug at my heart to steer my fleet,
To where great wisdom's found,
And at the root the potent brew,
To fear the Lord and turn anew.

Estranged from myself when looking in my face,
I hardly see a boy now his memory is faint,
Perhaps he came much of... whatever looks like me,
But I cant seem to find the continuity,
For memory turns faint when gazing in my face,
Perhaps I'll see one day when I've finished this long race:
My Lord and all my ways within His eyes.

You're the colour on a rainy day,
The bismuth lining every drop,
The strength for weary eyes,
So I can rest my heart and finally stop,

In striving and in solitude,
My confident, my friend,
My intercessor, advocate,
Draw me always back to mend.

What a faithful friend,
In pain and mystery,
In time and round each hurling bend,
The fearsome one, fragrant mercy.

Find rest you weary soul,
The Lord has promised so,
When walking seems a heavy business,
Turn from yourself to His great throne,
Look squarely at the one ever beside,
On Him more weight than you could know,
Your heaviness on Him that you would find His rest.

Draw near to me for I am weak,
Undisciplined I fall astray, but You!
You lift me up from where I slip,
For on the hills You wait in care,
You, tender, seek my fear and love,
For Yours is greater than all strength,
You give Yourself so I won't lack,
Undisciplined I fall astray, but You,
Draw near to me for I am weak.

You encourage me with veterans,
Of the way. Still sprinting on,
Encrowned in white and humble patience,
Which seems too scarce in me each day,
You call me on with beautiful bells,
Up to the ornate palaces of your love,
To ancient bells and wisdom's tune,
To where the fount of beauty lies in truth,
And there the Faithful call me too.

When feet are small for tasks,
Ahead. The way is steady on,
But we will walk as they who ask,
Yes, slowly we will see it won.

Deeply seated in the folds,
Of The Father's hands and I so bold,
Look to horizons through the fog,
Of time and can't contain my urge to jog,
To hurtle at adventures soon,
Yet they will come as surely as He made me His.

My arms are weak with many gifts,
Undeserving poor and wretched man,
I am! Yet lavish grace on grace uplifts,
My soul though backward thrown askew,
Untwisted each dear day, adrift,
Upon a mercied treble gift:
Rich in company and stature,
Rich in books and little learnings,
Rich in food and all my needs are met,

May I praise you though the times
Are good, yet never cease to turn a rhyme,
When walked through darker clefts again.

A contentment that does move to tears,
One like me who holds a shattered cup,
Tender molded now made whole again,
To hold not wrath but blessed joy upon joy,
Praise to the mender of my cup!
Come close all shattered bearers far,
He mends for all who see their shards.

Sending now a heart to go,
Perhaps in the future vaguely,
To the peoples far and low,
Upon the foreign mountains lofty,
I'll join them in pursuit of heaven,
Its Kingdom drawn down from the sky,
But not by power or by might.

Hidden in the perfect man,
What glory far too good for me,
To know my God as father now,
To know my God would purchase me,
What glory far too good for me!
That He would nurse my sickness through,
That He would hold me close when I am cold,
What glory far too good for me,
Forgiven when I pain my soul,
Comforted when myself dismay.

The thought of time,
As months tick up like all their little seconds just the same -
If spending be a true image of the thing,
I hope to spend you well.
But maybe humility would better ask,
That You would help me far from sin that mar the time,
That You would make my backbone strong to sit in quietness,
That you would teach my heart to want your ways,
For they make good the time,
For they make good the time.

Pull up a chair or rather a sofa to a beanbag small,
To read the open book and become likewise,
To open up in friendship and be read a little more,
A great gift is a band of brothers,
Such is a seed for mighty men to sprout,
The soil for life in all its fullness,
Indeed for life in His name and all its fullness.

Rightly take my praises Lord,
Justice demands Your glory be made known,
Enthroned upon my lowly lips admist,
The chorus of the stars and all that is,
So steer my heart along the path,
Lord guide me with your rod and staff,
Make me too an instrument of your peace.

My resting place in mountain halls,
By pillars of deep basalt weeping,
Tears of love a mingled magma,
My hiding place and fortress rock,
O Lord my God my resting place,
My portion now and never gone,
Far further than the crust falls still,
Far further than the mountains fold,
Far further than the valleys and the seas roll up,
You will remain farther than the rocks,
And you have given me rest.

You are the well that never dries,
My thirst is gone yet I can always draw again,
Your spirit is sweeter than honey on my lips,
A refreshment more potent than chilled citrus in the summer heat,
I will ever sing to you for you have lifted my spirit,
And loosed my chains - my hands are light.

Sifting through the archives,
What a gift my Lord has laid,
Of fragments of his Glory shining,
In my lap for days and days,
To sit with me and dwell so near,
To mark with me His glory along the way,
On the pages of my life,
As He shows me to obey.

Dull ache turns sharp,
When I stir now awake,
Long creak like bark,
A long rest now I seek,
Lord make my heart,
Turn so firmly to you,
Lord make my heart,
More dependant on you.

Hello sweet eyes,
I see you heavy in the day,
But through you I see smiles,
Full weeks and setting Suns,
Speckled artfully by the way,
I see the world its beauty when it's cold,
The rising Sun flow lazy through the trees,
This land I live within a play,
It calls - beckons me to live to full,
To wade through heavy sight to see,
Glory as a man,
Who meets me as I pray.

Water for my brain and coolness for my mind,
In sipping there is contemplation,

Integrated life here in the present passing,
Here I remain in the present passing,

A body gifted to tend the Book of His Works,
A mind breathed into dust to glorify the one who is Spirit.

I'll see you in the garden,
My rock and hiding place,
My rushing stream to guide the way,
I'll see you in the quiet glade,
I'll see you by the mottled crags,
My song and glory crying out,
My light and spotless righteousness,
I'll see you on the holy mount,
And walk with you to streets of golden glass,
And know no light apart from you.

I give to you my overwhelm,
The boulders bearing on my back,
I take you to my spirit's helm,
Watch you take your throne,
This grace that you would walk with me,
To your own seat upon the deck,
You never left, this... this I see,
And steer me through the wilting waves.

I didn't have a poem,
But He called me then to pray,
Lord craft in me a poem,
Lord teach me what to say,

For I am like a desert,
That forgets its very thirst,
He'll show in me my needs,
And meet them ever first,

For I'll walk with him tomorrow,
Just as I have today,
And learn to not forget,
My need, my want, my love.

I could walk by woods and through the bog,
And smell the rain drops in the fog,
But that's another day,
I could sit and ponder maths I'm taught,
My hand at pace at every thought,
But that's another day,
I could burn the midnight oil and wake,
And place within it, all my stakes,
But that's another day,
Not mine, but His to order: He knows time,
Far better than I know days my own.

I lie here still a little stifled,
O why, o why, do I fill my mind,
With endless lights and pointless troubles,

My glory and the lifter of my head,
Won't you save me from myself,
You are light and these are shadows,

This gluttony of the mind devours,
Help me cast it off in zeal, in power,
And still in quiet radiance,

Your radiance where I'm sated full,
Where I know peace, clarity true,
Where I'm lighter and enjoy you.

You've loosed my soul and then my tongue,
You turn to lips and arms, I'm free!
You grow in me a lively song,
You turn to words and dance, I'm free!
For in my wretchedness and need,
I'll see you brighter than the Sun.

Just a glimpse of Your face,
And I tremble beyond joy,
True love - the wisdom of God in a face,
Upon the dawning sun,
The radiance of the almighty,
Upon my beautiful one,
A special madness I hear,
A consuming hope, jealous as the God it flows from,
To see you in the noonday clear,
And we will be like you then.

Great passion of my soul,
You pluck the strings of my depths,
So my song is more beautiful than my own,
In the night, chaos and obscurity,
Your wisdom commands me,
Through my heart I know instruction,
To dwell on your face, to dwell on your face!

You have my lot, Lord have it all,
My unbelief will not stand long,
For I know my redeemer lives.

O ancient ground of old,
You're sturdier than I can know,
I give you myself to mould,
I trust my faith You'll grow.

Faithful Father be praised!
You do not whisper to my heart in vain,
But for a cause I'm called,
To proclaim the gospel to the heights,
To mention your goodness to the depths,
To walk with your children between,
By grace we have a new life of purpose,
You do not whisper to our hearts in vain,
Faithful Father be praised!

If perfection were my master,
I'd write a poem pristine,
And ten out ten I'd long to see,
One zero,
Out of which the crowd erupts,
One zero,
Out of which my Lord outstands,
Two three,
Regardless I hold firm,
By Him I am pristine.

Wise Cousellor,
Your wisdom does me good,
From my mouth, may it pour,
Make me humble as I should,
Amen.

Sorrow upon sorrow flows free,
A burning root of love beyond measure,
He lifts a branch to me.
I am burst vermillion gold,
With open arms an ember received,
Amber rose and molten glass,
What passion my Lord has for thee!
Forever in His eyes you stand,
Day and night, the poor and lowly.

Blessed Well, my near comforter,
Refresh me now I thirst for you,
My soul is quenched by no other,
I'm parched without...

The stream runs hushed, knock knock!
I stand beside - my Lord persists,
We're gated firm from rushing thought,
His hope diffused in my heart now,
Persistence grasps a deeper root I pray.

You saw me there within my mother's womb,
Crocheted and fastened strong by grace,
So fearfully the symmetry,
Intent you bore on every pore,
And now He holds me tall my breath no mercy small.

Frustration and disappointment seem to sublimate at your words,
You clothe the flowers,
And feed the birds,
Why do I restless sit?
My feeble hands so absurd,
Will you not save me from myself?
I believe that you will,
You are Faithful and True,
That is your name still,
All that's good comes from you,
So I'll gather up my heart,
Make it still like the deep,
May it beat when yours starts,
May it break with yours too,
Make me lessen and lessen,
Make me meek as your son,
All my future is yours,
And that future is won,
You provide well for all things,
Yet you value me more,
Every thought let it tinge,
Until I worry no more.

Heavy heart,
Become light at the sound of His breath in my lungs,
Downcast gaze,
Look up for the Lord is near,
You grew me in discipline then,
I'll know your staff to guide me now,
May joy drip down from mind to heart,
Place new godly laughter in my lungs.

Feeling like an alien,
Eyes not wide just sleepy,
Walking in a foreign land,
Culture shock and I'm reeling,
I'm calmed again,
Still waters at my feet,
Heart pastured in his peace.

Forgive me for my doubting mind,
I wish to walk with You a thousand steps,
And to then again walk many more,
For Your whisper rocks my weary frame,
How could I walk without You now,
I couldn't walk without You then,
I wish to say a thousand times,
Yes to Your costly love again.

Put my heart on like a glove,
Lead my feet where you will,
Along quiet streams with my beloved,
Facing arid desert and storm,
Though graveyard to vineyard,
I'd ask you why you love me so,
But the answer's always sung the same:
How could I not, my handiwork,
My child and chosen race?
For I am love and you are mine,
And so you shall remain.

Beauty from ashes,
An act to which I stand to witness,
For hope is born in no purer flesh,
And new life sprung from more dead things,
Glory is perfected in this blessed gift,
Power in our weakness,
Wisdom in our folly,
And you place a pretty flower in the wake,
It seems to sway in peaceful pastures,
Calling Abba, Father to its place,

For now I hold your presence close,
In beauty and in truth:
The ashes gone.

Come crashing down dear hope of mine,
Not wishful in the slightest sense,
But gifted by the Faithful One,
Of things unfinished,
Things not seen,
Things to dance about and praise,

Goodness past assures the soul,
And goodness now for my rejoicing,
Yet goodness near is shelter from despair,
Umbrella to the stormy day,
Shield to raging flames and darts,
Life to dying oaks and brush,

Come crashing down dear hope of mine,
Not wishful in the slightest sense,
But gifted by the Faithful One,
Of things unfinished,
Things not seen,
Things to dance about and praise.

What good news is this?
That contorts wise eyes,
And lights the strong ablaze in rage,
Calling all to fall humble at the feet of a carpenter,
On a wooden construct not His own,

Yet it is on our construct He was pinned,
One we cast with gold and silver,
One we lusted after with wayward gaze,
One we formed from our ground bones and ashes,

Self destroyers.
Vile murderes.

Yet He hangs for us,
What good news is this?
He would do so for me?
He would do so for you?

To beauty He hangs ugly,
To strength He hangs weak,
To wisdom He dies a foolish king,
No... in Him such things are perfected.

Broken body,
Outpoured blood,
Sustenance for a feeble soul,
Salvation for a hungry people,
Great rising joy for all the world,
Praise You for You did not spare,
A hand or leg but gave it all,
Your body crushed,
My soul redeemed.

Tapping out some plans,
And You, Lord, establish steps beneath,
My feet not inches from your sight,
But bearing love upon my toes,
Full force beyond my comprehension.

Under Your sky,
And the night returns faithful,
Silent like a fatherly might,
Sweeping up the earth in a hug,
Shoring up like the cosmic father likes to do,
My day is done,
My future secure.

Tapping out the things I've done,
The things I am,
The things I've become

Colours for the lovely words,
Coloured shapes for empty space,

He's brought me here,
To this here place,
To be more like Him and run the race.

Holy anointed one,
Be seated in your right place,
Below my collar,
Beneath my ribs and nestled in my innermost being,
Deep above all in my heart,

You are worthy,
For you did not despise death,
But bore the serpent's fangs as you crushed it once and for all,
You alone can lay down Your life and pick it up again,
So you are worthy, Son of David.

Roped in and held with care,
Sharing laughs with your Church in service,
We're here for You,
You are truly our everything,
And we seek to place You more in our sights,
Till earthly things fall dull by the wayside,
And we hear You clearly.

I'm jelly down to my marrow,
All tired out from proclaiming,
Praising the father for the banished sorrow,
For he came and he conquered all that there ever was,
Now when death comes, sin doesn't sting tomorrow,
Free at last by the bread and blood,
And I just want to serve him more than I ever was.

The sky is fog,
And I pierce my hand into its depths,
Yet I don't make it even half way through,
But glance a trailing blow along its teeth,

And - a little slower than a run - I turn to jog,
Under the fathomless sky in all its breadth,
And I feel my breath again renew,
And trust the sturdy path beneath my feet,

Although I only see a glimpse below,
For the sky is fog.

Trying talks,
And the time trickles by,
And I try to understand the tones,
But the tri-tones just seem to trace the boiling emotion,
And I'm shifting through a timeless stew,
That tastes so tangible and not,
And I sit confused,
But an answer sits at the tip of my tongue,
Yet He left it there for another day,
When I'll be a little better prepared for trying talks,
It never left his hands anyway.

Casting gleaming memory stones,
On my path bellow my toes,
To pick up when my wrinkles grow,
A little more with passing hours,
And faithful times will speak alone,
Of a faithful father, friend, and throw...
Me through the loop of memory hoops,
To prance along the memory paths,
And capture gleaming memory stones.

Friendship for the rainy days,
And talking work about work and torque,
And other Physics theories, ways,
Ways to think of floating dust,
Ways to think of flying rays,
And He is with me for all days,
To be a friend, a help and laugh,
To be a physics kid and walk His path,
For me to smile in rainy days,
In other houses where his kingdom advances.

Heckled head,
And thoughts seem to flow like a glacier,
A lukewarm brain-freeze stills my tired temples,
And as the memories seem to solidify I leave these planted seeds in your care,
For you Lord water where you wish.

Counting the cost like loose change,
The coins seem to fall from my fingers and roll into the weeds,
Muddied and obscured,
Friends found and lost in part,
Help me to continue to show them love,
For you are sovereign, Lord,
I lift up such things to you,
You are worth it, Lord.

Tears of love stain the cloth,
And dripping drops plummet before they stop,
And shatter on the pavement.

Spread your seed out in the open,
May it land on the good soil,
Lead your sheep to be more patient and gracious,
May my words follow your true sword,
We both know I can't do it Lord,
May your strength be in my every motion.

Hey eye-opener,
Little drained after that one,
I'm sorry for trying to carry more than I should have,
I leave it in your hands.

Wooooooooo!
A sonic bullet of liquefied enthusiasm soars through the clouds,
And down, down below the parting sea of marshmellows,
A little boy stands,
A great joy in his eyes and hope for salvation.

Settle down my heart,
Bask in His peace,
Dwell in the knowledge of your God,
Warm your thoughts with His love,
Sing silent praise to your God,
Feast on his promise and plans,
He's done much good to you.

Merry faces,
Line these stairs and call out from beneath the dust of time,
They remind us of His faithfulness and the unity He's sown,
Of the places He's taken us,
Of the people He's made us,
Thank you Lord for standing with this house and making it yours,
Help us to follow You daily and love one another as You have loved us,
Amen.

Surge "
The rate of change of acceleration
"

I feel a great surge,
It compels me forward,
It tickles my toes until I jump up,
It guides my hands to act,

To bless and petition,
To hope and intercede.

Whistling winds catch my ears in their melody as I move quicker,
And then at a quicker rate,
And then in a blink I'm moving faster than ever before.

Yet it is not my own power in these wings
Yet it is not my own breath in these lungs,
Yet I am not my own...
No worries, He's a better pilot than I.

Slow days,
Seemed filled with much more time than others,
Yet I taste the imperfection of the hours,
Creeping by and blasting spotlights on my hidden pride,
Showing me the limits of my mind.
May I decrease Lord,
Still my spinning thoughts and realign my expectations,
May you increase,
Keep my eyes on you as I tread the waves,
And walk along allotted paths,
My eyes on you.

A deep dive into the ocean of my thoughts,
Rolling waves neatly hedge in the deep with a compassionate hug,
A salty impression tickles the nose and calms the heart,
Under the surface coral blues violently mesh and fold into one with deep indigo,
Sublime scaffolding pokes out from the midnight blue, obscured,
Holding together and structuring the origami currents from the depths,
Contextualising and refining little swirls into whirlpools,
Deeper still a cry is heard,
Abba Father...
Down beneath the darkest shades of thought.

You placed a heavy weight on my life,
A calling to higher places,
But it's not like other weights,
It's gentle still in hard spaces.

Seems to pull me heavenward,
It makes me light and bubbly,
And its fuel for my days:
A basic necessity.

I can't wait for it Lord,
You know its just an expression,
So I'll wait here in your presence,
Keep me humble and escaping,

The evil one, he's prowling,
But you'll use it for my good,
Refining metal in the furnace,
Till you take me with quickly packed cases.

Wherever it may be...

Meet me there in deepest thoughts,
And grow me into deepest silence,
Your words so great, and deepest wisdom,
Do abound in deepest nights.

Grow in me a zealous hunger,
For your word and weighty things,
To sit beside the deepest thinkers,
Resting on your faithful shoulders.

In the downpour,
I'm sitting and waiting,
Contemplative,
Stages to stages,
And I rest in your places.

In the furious rain and the roaring metal,
In the blaring music,
And the subtle whisper of people,
You are still there Lord,
Unleashed from the temple.

In transcendent, unhurried purpose,
You walk and you wrestle,
With weak men and strong men,
For broken is the perfect vessel,
So that I may get a surplus of grace and tussle,

Tussle with truth,
Tussle with wisdom,
Tussle with those around me in love,
That they may know you too,
Maybe place a little stone in their shoe.

School is back on the horizon,
And I offer up my toil to you,
I will delight in you and you in me,
And you promise to renew me,
And you promise to make me holy,
So as I look over the horizon of weighty sleep,
Keep my eyes on you,
And my will on its knees,
Reverent and loving,
For I see you there amidst the bleak greys and overt pastels,
I see you there - waiting for me.