Wednesday, November 28, 2007

The Walled Garden

The bells toll;
The vine grows.
The water flows
From the south wall
And sustains the soul.

The walls are thick,
Cold and defending,
The gray, rough bricks
Hide the walled world within
With grace n’er bending.

The saving waters are falling,
Soaking the parched ground
Where fruit-laden trees are found.
Off the thick walls the sound reverberates;
To the whole world the waters are calling.

From all the garden’s walls
Mighty vines hang from above.
No disease or pest can do any harm
To any of the vine’s branches at all.
They testify to the Creator’s love.

The bells ring out God’s glory,
Calling all back to the garden
To recall God’s n’er-ending love story.
Joyful is the bells' sound
As the ringing repeats again.

His love endures forever,
And great is His Name.
His love endures forever,
And we’ll n’er again be the same.

Wednesday, November 7, 2007

Standing Next to You

The cold is out this solemn night;
With each step, I feel its touch.
We move in the darkness,
Step by step, in bitter silence.

I feel the cold between us,
Distance brought by brutal reality,
One where touch is an impossibility
And everything isn’t as it once was.

I measure every step
And count every breath.
How many nights haven’t I slept?
How many times have I wept?

We take our place on the route
To mark with others the end of another’s life.
How so is life full of chance,
But still I don’t know why you’re in mine.

Standing next to you,
I wish you could be mine
And that I could be yours, too.
Then my heart would be fine.

I stand there next to you.
How do I still long for you!
There my heart remains, silent for you,
Glad to be just next to you.

The rifle volleys are fired,
And the bugle calls out mournfully.
We shuffle away that night quietly
With my heart so greatly moved.

How do I tell you
Of the love I feel for you,
Of the feeling that within me grew,
And rid myself of these bonds, too?

The cold still remains with me
Even after that fateful night.
My heart still yearns for you,
But I must defer my happiness for thine.

My wish to our Maker then is only this:
Take away my happiness if it means for her only bliss.

Saturday, October 13, 2007

The Canticle

How do I describe this experience I have been thrust into?
How do I compare it to any other experience in which I have ever felt or borne in my experience?
How can I doubt the Lord any further?
How can I not love Him as I know now?

What grace has been given to me!
What love has indwelled in me!
What caress of the heart have I felt!

My heart has seen the Lord. It has walked in His presence, His True Presence in all His Glory. His hand has calmed my nervous heart. His mercy has washed over me with all compassion this world can provide. His Light has filled my heart. It has graced me with a brightness so blinding. It has filled me completely.

With all my heart shall I continue to praise you, O God, in the name of the Father and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.

With all my heart shall I sing of the Lord. I will proclaim from the depths to the heights of every land. I will speak the Word of Truth to all the lands all the days of my life. Amen.

Sunday, September 30, 2007

Look Above

Look above to the boundless skies.
O what beauty do I see!
The clouds roll forth
And assuage my soundless cries.

Her image covers me;
Her touch strengthens me.
How did I not see this,
This wondrous ignorant bliss?

Look to the skies above!
The clouds stream quicker and quicker.
I lay my head down
And take the beauty in.

What a beautiful day it is
To just lay down and look above
To the glorious blue skies
And reflect on the love within.

Thursday, September 20, 2007

Bonfire of the Heart

The time draws near
To draw friends and strangers
Out of the darkness that lingers
And into the light that is here.

We are called to love
And not to give into present fears,
Opening our hearts and lending our ears
To the gifts given from above.

Add to these fires, every one of you,
The fears and doubts that you have,
And, in turn, Christ will make anew
Your heart with His rod and staff.

See before you the Bonfire of the Heart,
Christ's everlasting gift, His Sacrifice to you.
We are to share in His Sacrifice and take part,
Lifting up our struggles and making our lives new.

Rest in the Lord, all you troubled,
For the Bonfire still burns this day.
His Love and His Sacrifice are forever coupled,
And we are to take up our own cross and follow His Way.

Look upon the Bonfire and let your soul rest.
You are home in Christ and shall forever be blest.

Wednesday, September 12, 2007

Out of the Night

What love do I feel within me;
It’s the peace you bring, O Lord.
The tranquility is not my doing,
Rather the work of your calming hands.

What merciful ways in which you free
For which my heart must sing, O Lord.
The fortitude is quickly swelling,
Ascending like an eagle over troubled lands.

Your soothing presence before me
Covers me with a grace so stirring, O Lord.
It counteracts against the temptations growing,
Subduing the Foe with a might so grand.

The Foe is no match to thee;
You are mightier than any realm or king, O Lord.
I am thankful for your merciful giving
So that I might, with you, so firmly stand.

I am forever grateful for my now renewed sight
And for being brought out from that cold dark night.

Wednesday, September 5, 2007

Ice Lily

O lily of fairest colors resounding,
What joy have you brought me.
Your fragrance is so confounding
With the sadness you now bring me.

Your beauty caught my eyes then,
All those many days before.
Your complexity drew me in,
But your coldness has driven me away evermore.

Your blossom consists solely of ice;
Not even the warmth of the shining sun
Nor the softest touch of kindness will suffice
To warm your icy blossom’s coldness you’ve begun.

O fair ice lily, open once more your frozen heart
Or face a world, too, where coldness never parts.

Tuesday, July 31, 2007


Page to page, the paper flies.
Past one story and another,
The pages are sent whistling into the wind.

The pages are dark with small words scrawled,
The ink of past memories now gone,
Their flourishes so small now windswept memories.

Once a tome of great importance,
This lone volume is stripped bare.
All but a few scant pages remain.

I try to catch the pages
As they scatter into the wind,
But they disappear from my sight.

The pages in my grasp are torn and tattered,
But alas they are the only ones that remain
For me to recall at a later day.

I do not mourn the loss of the other pages.
In time they will find joys with another.
I will rejoice instead in the memories still in hand.

What else are we to do when things are scattered to the winds
Than to take our book of memories and keep grasp of its bookends?

Thursday, July 19, 2007

O Fair Woman of Heart's Desire

O Fair Woman of Heart’s Desire
You transfigure all of humanity.
You direct our minds to something higher,
And you do so with total serenity.

You accepted the burdensome task as a mere girl,
And gave of yourself to raise the Savior of the World.
What love do we wish to emulate
As you took in all things into your heart to contemplate.

Even when the skies went dark at the hour,
You were there when your Son’s blood was shed,
Opening your heart to love quietly in his stead
And through His Grace open our hearts like flowers.

Your complete submission to God’s will says it all,
So much so that even when made low you stand tall.

Tuesday, July 10, 2007

O Father Eterne

Since time eternal
Has your love been present.
From age to age,
Your love has been Heaven-sent.

Your love was there for Abraham
And for Isaac, Samuel, and David, too.
In the Great Flood your mercy was shown
As after forty days the sun broke through.

How merciful is your love, O Father Eterne!
For your compassion do so many still yearn.
It continues to be shown each and every day
Through Your Son who has shown us the Way.

O God so merciful, be with us this very day
As we turn to You in a world that has turned away.

Thursday, July 5, 2007

Winds of Change

The winds of change
Are quickly moving.
Their drastic nature
Keeps on disproving.

What are these winds so strongly blowing?
Are they coming or are they going?
What are these winds so heavily imbuing?
Are they lulling are or are they growing?

So feisty are these blustery winds
That all one can do is make amends.
Going to and fro, all that can be done
Is hang on for dear life before all is gone.

These winds of change are nothing to fear...
They’re simply new beginnings for which we should cheer.

Saturday, June 30, 2007

The Painter

A man stands at the foot of a cliff,
Alone at the abyss’s edge.
His easel rests beside his tread,
And through its delicate colors, shows his gift.

The painter looks down at his paint
And the many works of his past.
He remembers each with private joy so vast,
But their colors have faded, now to ones so faint.

The painter uncovers one deep below,
And within him a warmth so full grows.
The painting was of a woman from long ago
Who captured the man’s heart but filled it with woe.

His eyes filled with tears,
For he still loves her after all these years,
But Fate had struck Her path,
One of change filled with endless wrath.

You see, he had painted this picture
Not to impress the Other,
But to keep her memory alive further,
Leaving him, in times like these, much richer.

He had painted this picture for her,
All that time ago,
To share with her his love for her
No matter where she goes.

But she never saw the gift
For what it truly was
And left with him the gift,
With its colors now faded without love’s cause.

His love is insatiable to fill;
Its power to control him beyond his will.
Without that requisite return touch,
This painting with its faded colors is a mere crutch.

The painter’s heart sinks lowly;
His creative will is gone.
What he painted was love alone,
But that love left him cold and unsightly.

His eyes look to the horizon,
Focused on the radiant rays of the sun.
Tears fall down from his face,
For he now knows his place.

For a painter to believe in himself,
He must first believe in his own works.
The worst is not the critic who rejects his work
But the one who walks away without a word.

The painter looks to the heavens,
Wondering what now to do.
His heart is ready for a new lesson,
But his heart is now silent like his canvas, too.

He puts down his worn brush
And turns away from the cliff.
His heart gives up on his dreams so lush,
And instead tells him to stop asking, “What if?”

Without a reason to paint or to implore,
The painter has no further reason to paint once more.

Sunday, June 24, 2007

My Friend

My dear friend, how do I see you?
When we first met,
Such a memory was set,
But now my heart is so blue.

Night after night my warped affection
Became as clear as day
As I saw you in such a colored way,
My heart blind to reality’s complexion.

Without a doubt, I know my feelings are right,
But I cannot help but remember you are not mine.
My heart aches so, with your words so kind,
But life isn’t so kind to keep you in this light.

My emotions have tossed and turned
As a boat on the seas rocks to and fro
In a storm where the strong gales do blow.
Nothing has changed since in my heart so spurned.

I do not blame you, my friend,
For not knowing these words composed
Because I have kept it in,
Not telling a single soul.

It’s not that I want your love;
I’m quite far beyond that.
I know your heart is with another, so wrapped.
What I desire is your understanding of my pain.

I have done this before,
Wrapping my heart in attraction so impossible
That I thought burying it could be possible,
But stronger have the fires of my desires thus roared.

I don’t want to hurt what you have.
I’ve prayed for the both of you,
In good times and in bad,
But my heart needs freedom from you.

I do care for you deeply.
I’ve prayed for your relationships,
But I also wished for something else secretly
And now wish those words didn’t come off my lips.

I have prayed over this,
With my heart unsure of its wish.
It isn’t me to be acting so,
But through this all my heart has been made low.

My friend, all I ask of you is this:
Don’t break my heart when I finally tell you
Of the impossibilities I have so wished,
For all I wanted to say was "I love you."

Monday, June 4, 2007

The Bridge

Dark clouds brood ominously overhead,
Their menacing presence awakens me to the danger ahead.
Raindrops fall at a driving pace,
Saturating the river bank without relief.

I look to the hilltops on either side;
Huge channels of water close in on me.
Their currents are strong and paths wide.
Fear of the surrounding deluge consumes me completely.

Quietly my mind begins to race:
How did I fall from His state of Grace?
What did I do to come to this selfishness?
Surely there is light to counteract against this darkness.

Before me is a narrow bridge spanning the swollen river.
Its wooden planks look oh so rickety;
Its lattice railings are overrun with water running mightily,
But the bridge throughout this onslaught does not waver.

My mind tells me this is a bridge
That I cannot and should not try to cross.
My heart calls to me as I approach the water’s edge,
Telling me this is a bridge I must cross or all would be lost.

I tell myself that I’ve fallen before,
And surely this time, too,
I will fall once more
Into the deadly river below—a tomb.

My heart cannot deny that I could fall again,
But I cannot within myself grow
Without first rising and trying again,
Thus my pride would then be made low.

So I set my right foot on the first plank,
Starting my journey over the troubled river below.
Then, in the distance, I saw a wall of water begin to grow;
I began to waver in my faith as my heart quickly sank.

Fear overcame me again
As the wave came crashing in.
I gripped the railings with all my might
As the water rushed over me, taking from me my sight.

I started to quickly choke
As my lungs took in more water with each breath,
And my soul cried out for mercy if any was left.
With my spirit beside itself, its will broke.

Throughout the surge my hands stayed gripped
With my arms outstretched in gut-wrenching pain.
As the waters overcame me, I felt the sharp pain
Of two of the railings’ nails as through my hands they ripped.

Even through this anguish so great,
I did not release my tortured hands,
For my faith refused to abate.
I released control of my will into His Hands.

The waters began to subside,
And once I breathed my next breath
I let out a mighty cry.
It was not of anguish, sadness or pain.

It was a cry of joy in the Lord,
For I had finally crossed the Bridge,
And I had done so with the Lord,
Trusting in Him through His Passion and His Pain.

For if we are to live in Him,
We must die in Him,
And if we are to come to Glory,
We must rise in His glory.

He is there at all our bridges over troubled water,
And with Faith in Him we surely will never falter.

Wednesday, April 18, 2007

Paradise Lost: The Virginia Tech Tragedy

Paradise Lost

A cold wind blasts through the windows;
The glass scatters in the wind.
The wind howls ever more;
Quicker and quicker does it roar.

Dark clouds descend down;
The Ivory Tower is enveloped in darkness.
Blood flows in the streets;
Sanctity and trust are breached.

The tempest winds blow;
The sadness of lost comes.
The blood of innocents still runs,
Killed one by one, row by row.

What terror have we seen;
What of their fateful screams?
Why did this have to happen,
This terror, travesty, and sin?

We have seen this before,
And we shall see it again.
We’ve been betrayed by a kiss,
Just like the One, much greater than this.

Why has our generation
Become this abomination?
How can we allow
Our sanctuaries to be desecrated so?

Have we no compassion?
Have we no love?
Is there any forgiveness?
Is there any love?

Yes, there is love,
Love comparing to no other.
We must look to Him, no matter the cost,
We, now the remaining, of this Paradise Lost.

In memoriam: Virginia Tech Mass Shooting Tragedy: Monday, April 16, 2007

Wednesday, April 4, 2007

Silver Taps

The quiet cadence of steps
Ebbs and flows into consciousness
Like waves on a distant shore
Or drops of rain on drought-stricken land.

Slowly the white-clad troupe
Makes their steady entrance
As the soft march calls
Rise to the heavens as an offering of fraternal love.

The Plaza is dark this solemn night
With only the moon to give the mourners light.
The sky seems to mark the occasion,
Blotting out all the stars of night from sight.

The moon takes on the resemblance of a host,
Its milky white orb risen up
Over the masses assembled below
With a sanctifying silver glow.

The Volunteers stand at attention,
Their hearts racing with anticipation,
Awaiting the swift salute order
Of their ready and focused commander.

The order is given to ready,
And quickly the guns are aimed.
In succession the rifles are fired steadily,
Honoring the fallen Aggies all the same.

The bugle calls its Silver Taps,
Once to the north,
Once to the south,
Once to the west...

But never is the bugle’s call
Sounded to the east
Since the sun shall never rise for them in the least
Nor their smiling faces be seen here at this place.

In the distance visitors are welcomed
By maroon block letters on a water tower
That reads "Welcome to Aggieland."
What love do the Aggies have for one another:

We say hello to the stranger
Even in the darkest of times
And, even better, say goodbye
When that stranger formerly is missing from our midst.

This is the true meaning of Aggieland, my friend,
Where the Spirit is alive, even to the very end.

Rose Ever Blooming

Rose Ever Blooming

O beautiful rose ever blooming,
Like God’s love, all consuming.
Is not your stem so firm in standing?
Or your petals so vibrant with color?

Amid the springtime sun,
You radiate beauty forward.
You stand there unassuming,
But with grace you are soothing.

The grace comes not from you
But the luminous sun of day.
Dependent on the rays so true,
Your blossoms burst open as they may.

So symbolic of love is your quiet beauty;
Those deep colors of red do so enthrall me.

Monday, April 2, 2007


I look at her joy overflowing,
And with unassuming love I look on smiling.
From a distance I gaze on,
The selfish desires to pursue her now gone.

I still find her so compelling,
Her smile so enthralling,
Her personality so free and telling,
And her carefree heart so selflessly giving.

So I am torn:
What I am I to do with a heart so worn?
Should I cast away the friendship of before,
Or should I be a better friend even more?

What is better:
To hide oneself from another
Or to face the issue even further?

Love is to be made selfless.
Love is to be given without reserve.
Love is to go beyond current hindrances
And find the other in need.

Wednesday, March 28, 2007

My Cup Overflows

The sweet taste of relief flows into my mouth.
It quenches the thirst of all my doubt.
What overpowering joy this victory is,
A mighty one over strife and all amiss!

“Joyful! Joyful!” Is the strain,
Which casts away all past pains.
No more worries shall overcome me,
And the opportunities ahead are as vast as the sea.

All that I worked for I can now see:
Through all the muck and all the trouble
The Lord has made it mere rubble.
What glorious works are these!

My cup overflows with sweet blessings,
And I shall praise the Lord, never ceasing!

With Open Arms

Here I stand with open arms.
My heart aches with a shuttered love,
A love that, by necessity, has been disarmed.
I must carry on, nevertheless, to rise above.

I wish these feelings would disappear,
And cast away all desire of you still further.
Yet in my mind has your beauty been seared,
And nightly my heart sadly murmurs.

When will this pain go away?
When will these impossible thoughts be removed?
Your endearing smile still holds its sway;
Your disarming personality so sweetly soothes.

How can these feelings be so wrong?
It came to me like an angel-white dove.
Why did my heart for you so long,
And yet now tells me not to love?

I tell myself, "Dream no more.
Your love is dead, dead to the core.
This world that you put yourself in
Will only, if you lead yourself, end in sin...
Sin not of action but merely of thought."
Yet, sadly, it was only your love that I sought.

Wednesday, March 7, 2007

Sing Praise!

Sing praise all you nations; sing praise!
For all the gifts the Lord has bestowed on you,
Sing praise!

All the glory of the Lord is with you
All the days of your life.
Sing praise!

With everything you do sing praise
And with all words that spring from your tongue
Sing Praise!

Give the Lord what is rightly His
And all that He has promised will be yours.
Sing praise!

Wednesday, February 28, 2007

Into the Wilderness I Go

Into the wilderness I go;
Let prayer ever be on my lips.
The Lord is my rock and my refuge.
In Him, I put all my faith.

With the morning sun
He sets me on my way
And with the evening's darkness
Sets me in His hands to rest.

Guide me, O Lord, by thy radiant beam
And keep me in thy care at day's end.

Deep Within

Deep within an old attraction lies;
Buried within, these feelings still reside.
These feelings were immediate;
My heart leapt for joy at our first sight.

I felt your joy;
I anguished in your pain.
I let my heart wrap itself
In selfish desire that turned so vain.

Still I feel something for you,
A quiet, unassuming love,
And I pray for a day
That it may be shown…

A day that it given to you not with pain
But with Grace that comes from the Lord above.

Murmurs of a Restless Heart

I love her not with a boisterous voice.
No, I love her in quiet ways.
What love I have, I give it to the Lord.
I beg Him: "Give me a heart ready to love."

I cast away feelings I wish could come true,
But each day I am reminded my heart is not ready.
I beg the Lord: "Give me a heart ready to love."
But I hear no answer.

I let these feelings subside and then rise.
I know there is something there, but is it love?
Each time I see her, my heart leaps for joy,
But she is happy and so must I...

But am I happy? Am I with love?
I feel so empty, so incomplete.
I am not strong enough
To love without love’s return.

My heart craves to let its feelings be known;
I must let these feelings go.
I must let these feelings be known
To the person of my kind affection.

For some time I had a passion in life.
I felt purpose of the Truth,
But now I feel only pain,
Pain to which nothing will suffice.

She spoke to me as a friend;
She loved me as a friend.
Now there is only distance
And pain from an absence of love.

Monday, February 19, 2007

Morning at Dawn

Darkness covers the fields;
A chill fills the spring air.
Without the sun’s life-giving light,
The pastures of green are hidden from sight.

A persistent breeze breaks the pre-dawn silence,
And the grasses waver in the wind
As though massive waves in a sea.
Back and forth the grasses bend as the dawn light appears.

Dark clouds form from the south
As the coming of the morning sun is marked.
The menacing maelstrom quickly moves
With thunder and lightning and wind now howling.

All grows dark as the clouds extinguish all light,
And the threatening skies, now black, open up.
The rain pours down at a quickening pace,
And the deluge begins, showing no end.

Amid the maelstrom is a lone tree,
Resting high atop one of the rolling hills.
Its branches, flailing amid the wind and rain,
Act as a shelter from the thickening tempest.

Lightning strikes the solitary tree,
Frightening a group of songbirds from their alcove.
Thunder crackles as the tree is struck,
But amid the downpour the wood fails to ignite.

As quickly as the thunderstorm arrives,
Its remnants race away to the north, now at a distance.
The quiet of morning returns again,
And light from the morning sun shines brightly.

To the east the orange light casts a glow
On the peaceful pasture with quiet serenity.
So too the songbirds return to their tree;
Their chirps intermingle with the subsiding flow of rainwater.

The sweet symphony of nature’s harmony,
The birds’ chirping songs of morning
And the peaceful gushing of life-giving rain,
Pay tribute to the intricate beauty of God’s creation:
This beginning of a life-giving and blessed day.

Wednesday, February 7, 2007

The Meaning of Love

What is the meaning of Love,
That emotion so mystifying?
Is it a gift from one person to another
Or a mystery of Grace from above?

Like morning dew on a blade of grass,
In time human love comes to pass.
Who are we to claim these gifts our own,
We whom have been given what we have not sown?

Love in its pure form is not human in form,
Since human love is not unlike a storm,
Where the rain clouds quickly build
Until they are pushed away by a greater force and thus yield.

The meaning of Love is this:
Give of your heart until it hurts
Then give of it ten times more.
Love is to trust even when things get worse;
Only then can you find what the Lord has in store.

Monday, February 5, 2007

The Garden

A grove of oaks
Stands stoic amid a field.
Its isolation is stark, like an island,
And its surrounding grassland extends
As far as the eye can see.

At the center of the grove,
Resting safely beneath the trees
Is a lush garden of roses,
And a canopy broad and comforting
Shelters the garden beneath.

The soothing spring sunlight
Shines softly through;
Its light is a nourishing gift from above.
The soft smell of roses,
Sweet and intoxicating, wafts to the heights above.

This garden’s soil is fresh;
Its soft, moist earth is sweet in smell.
Bountiful is this blessed earth,
And all the plants set firm in this soil
Are fruitful and blessed.

At the heart of this garden
Is a rose bush, with its blossoms
A deep alluring red in full bloom
And its delicate leaves verdant,
Full of life and of hope.

But at its base, a weed springs forth.
Its stature is small and its blossom insignificant.
The plant is a mistake, its existence here out of place.
Still, it exists out of love from the Maker.

It is a meager dandelion, with blossom golden bright.
Yet the dandelion is still out of place,
With all the blooming roses
That triumphantly soar in the towering heights.

It clings to the rose bush’s base like a vine
And chokes from it its life and beauty,
So enchanting, mystifying and divine,
For it is blind to the splendor the world sees.

For the roses are love,
And the dandelion is mere attraction.
Its stunted growth is a mere shadow
Compared to the fullness of life that is above.

And so the Gardener enters the sanctified grove,
Treading carefully to its very center.
A mighty breeze blows through the grove,
And the dandelion quivers violently amid the wind.

Humbled, the dandelion releases its fortified grip
From the rose bush’s tortured base,
And the Gardner approaches it
Quietly with loving care and grace.

He knows of the dandelion’s intentions,
Of its loving desire for embrace,
For He remembers all His plants,
Whatever stage in life they may be.

He forgets not His plans for each of them,
Especially the solitary dandelion
Which He takes into His hands
And brings to another fertile land
To let blossom for all the world to see.

Sunday, January 28, 2007

To My Generation

By moonlight do I write
These words of the night,
Of joyous, wondrous might,
And of blessings bestowed by the Way, Truth, and Life.

It is not without sorrow
Nor sadness, nor pain
That I write of a better tomorrow,
Of one not so vain.

Our society kills with indiscretion
The young, the old, and the vile
But the saddest thing is they call it a decision
And they do so with a smile.

What our world now needs
Is a nation and a generation
To sow all new seeds
By calling this killing what it truly is, an abomination.

For if we do not awaken from boredom
The hearts and the minds of this country,
Our proud mantle of justice and freedom
Will fall from its God-given glory.

What else then must we do,
We whom they call the next Great Generation,
Than to cast out the evil and make all things anew?
This is my cry and lamentation.

We who are a people built on principle
Ought not stand by so idly
And allow this atrocity so indefensible.
Instead we should be on the front lines fighting mightily.

Without question, there is a battle to be fought,
One not of actual battle lines,
Rather of clinics where murder is sought.
This is what we fight for: our people’s hearts and minds.

We must change what was lost,
That self-centered failure of our parents' fallen generation.
This is a battle we must win no matter the cost,
For if we do not, ours may be the last generation,
A generation who refused to pay the absolute cost.

So to my generation, do I send this plea:
Awaken from your slumber and change this cruel world that I see.

Tuesday, January 16, 2007

Take This Cup Away from Me

Lord, take this cup away from me
For my heart isn’t strong enough
To hold this love within
Nor the pain that follows it.

Lord, take this cup away from me
Even though these feelings feel so right
And the love I feel for her
So true and complete.

Lord, take this cup away from me
Even though I asked for this pain
To work within her heart
Those faithful months ago.

Lord, take this cup away from me,
And let not my will but Yours be done.

Friday, January 12, 2007

Go with God

When love hurts
And all the troubles of life
Come forth and shake your spirits,
Go with God.

When life seems too complicated
And every fear borne within you
Is exposed to the light of day,
Go with God.

When your sins bear down
And every past wrong done
Is remembered within your heart,
Go with God.

When the days you dream of
And every dream and wish you had
Are dashed to the oblivion of darkness,
Go with God.

When you have reached your last day
And all that was to come to pass
Has passed to fulfillment,
Know that you are loved,
For you went with God.