Daffodils

I WANDER'D lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the Milky Way,
They stretch'd in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

(William Wordsworth. 1770–1850)

We had to learn this poem for a high school literature class. For the rest of my life the words of the first stanza have remained etched in my memory. As a postscript, I should mention my mother was the teacher of that literature class. No, I did not get any special favors...

Sheer Joy

We will race through the streets of gold,
Running for the sheer joy and delight.
We will romp and play in the meadows of grass in the garden of God,
Playing tag among the trees of life by the river of the water of life.
We will laugh for joy, being little children once again;
Un-wearied in our play.

Quiet times there will be too.
Just sitting and contemplating the glory of all,
Communing in soul and spirit
With looks of the heart, understanding one another
In perfect peace and communion.

In seeing our delight and joy,
Our peace and happiness,
His smile will be upon us;
We, His children in whom He delights and joys.
We will love Him perfectly with heart and soul,
And the imperfect love we have here for one another
Will be perfected there forever;
A joy unspeakable and full of glory.

( May 13, 2000. Copyright © May 2000 all rights reserved.)

The Story

Creation

In the beginning all was well
With the world new and fresh.
Unspoiled by death’s rot,
Untainted by evil’s breath.

Harmony in all creation
Dwelling in peace and joy
Existing in praise and song
And holy adoration.


Fall

Pride the first sin
Of the fallen arch-angel,
With hate and malice he brings
Into this perfect creation.

Fatal choice our parents make,
Those created in His image.
Now death shadows the earth.
Death infects their lineage.


Redemption

Early promise made;
A proto-evangel.
A bitten heel;
A crushed head;
A promise of redemption.

A perfect Lamb of God;
A sacrifice for sinners..
A cross, an empty tomb,
Resurrection and ascension.


Consummation

Seven seals
Seven trumpets,
Seven vials of wrath.
Vengeance is Mine says the Lord.
Judgment comes at last.

A New Heavens;
A New Earth;
A New creation singing.
Tears are wiped away;
Joy is everlasting.

(September, 2008. Copyright © 2008, All rights reserved.)

Theology Constrained

How can we fully know You?
Though what we know is truth,
Being glimpses You let us see of You.
Beyond our finite measure,
Unbound by feeble mind of man,
Reasoning and logic fail
The whole of You to unveil.

In eternal glory
When freed from curse and sin,
We finite still will be
In light of Your infinity,
As we bow in humility
With reverent awe and love.

Now dimly through a glass we see,
One day we’ll see more perfectly,
Yet in all of eternity
We’ll never fathom all of Thee
For You alone are God.

(Copyright © March 10, 2003. All rights reserved.)

The Bridges

To where do the bridges go?
The ones in my dreams
That arc high into the sky
To a far off place I can see
Only indistinctly,
But a place that beckons to me.

When I go on those bridges,
Up those high arcs
That defy design.
Only so far can I go.
Vision fades. I awake.
What is over there
I do not know,
But in those dreams
To that place I must go.
To where do the bridges go?


(Copyright © Oct. 2008. All rights reserved.)

This Field

This field I trod upon.
This field I plowed.
This field I dragged and disked.
This field I cultivated and harvested.

I sunk my bare feet into it’s soil.
I watched
....It’s corn grow,
....It’s wheat turn golden,
....It’s soybeans ripen in the pod.
I mowed it’s hay.
I sweated under it’s sun.

Watched the rain soaked up by it’s cracked ground;
Watched the evening mists rise upon it;
Watched the snow driven by the wind over it’s stubble.

Seeing it’s fence line silhouetted against the moon;
With the stars glittering as diamonds
And pearls against the velvet night.

This field holding early years of my life;
This field where I worked, thought, prayed, laughed, wept.
This field, a part of my life not forgotten.
This field, a part of my heart and being.


(September 8, 1998, Copyright © 1998. All rights reserved.)

The Call of The Lake

I hear the Lake, it's calling
"Come North, Come North to me."
Wild, mysterious, it is calling;
Awesome, majestic, and free.

I've seen Erie and Ontario,
Michigan, Huron, and more;
But none match Lake Superior
Or its wild, wind swept shore.

I hear the Lake, it's calling,
In my heart I hear it's plea.
Mysteriously it's calling
"Come North, Come North to me."


(September 4, 1998. © 1998 All rights reserved.)