All That is Within

This is a kind of Psalm
No trumpet
No fanfare
No raised alarm

Just a sinner
Who came to no harm
Reeling from love
Kneeling
With open palms
Open mouthed
Outstretched arms

Yes, this is a kind of Psalm.

Every breath that now comes
In chaos and calm
Sets wind in my praises
Gives sail to my psalm

Your works of wonder
Your awesome power
The detail in
Each fragile flower

The fearful wonder
In the way you made me
The breath of life
The love you gave me

All your works
Shall praise your name
All creation
Screams your fame

I can't promise you
Everything
I'm not even sure you can keep
The gifts I bring
But all within me
Wants to sing
Sing for you now
Sing my Psalm to my king,

You have saved me
And I love you.
Jesus God
No one above you

You know he's done wonderful things
When even your sin makes you sing
Because with opened eyes you can see
He dealt with it so gloriously
In love so superabundantly
His blood still avails for you and me,

Yes
This is a kind of Psalm
No trumpet in this room,
No fanfare
No raised alarm

Just a sinner
Who came to no harm
Reeling from love
Kneeling
With open palms
Open mouthed
With Outstretched arms

see how it has been dealt with so gloriously and so superabundantly

Frozen in (a Hero’s) Death

Sometimes I am envious of those who got to die heroically and be remembered well,
And not to have their long and slow descent to hell
Observed by children,
Who could never tell,
The depth beneath the surface.

To die in some historic just world war,
Fighting for their children in some glorious cause,
Hallowed tones and not metaphors,
Frozen in death at the peak of your,
Good and selfless deeds,
Though they were just the shiny skin,
The sacred and all forgiving covering,
That moment the shutter of history's lens
Closed
And captured
The best side,
They died
And faced no forensics.

Charismatic Kangaroo

Charismatic Kangaroo,
I know just what it is they'll do,
When they're bored and there's nothing new,
Leave their church,  hop right up to you.

Beware their bounce and what they promise you
Cos when it's fresh,  they're stuck like glue,
But when it's old they'll leave the fold,
Jump fence,  jump ship,  hop churches too,
The Charismatic Kangaroo.

Happy campers,  happy shoppers,
Happy clappy, happy hoppers.

His Name (Isaiah 9)

What is his name?
The one who came,
As a baby,
As a man,
God and man the same,

Isaiah the Prophet long ago foretold,
The names of the coming one,
Coming, from the days of old,

The people who lived,
In the deep shadowlands,
The shadow cast by death’s own hand,
Their darkness has ended,
As has their night,
For with his coming,
Comes the great light,

And His Son’s name is wonderful,
Full and filled with awe and wonder,
Filling sight with light,
Near and yonder,
So bright the light,
It makes you stop (in your tracks) and ponder,
What is it’s source?
I wonder?
I wonder?

So wonderful it takes your breath,
So wonderful it breaks the fear of death,
So wonderful it makes you gasp,
So wonderful you may lose your grasp,
On what you once thought was fact,
Once glanced you know there is no coming back,

How can this thing ever be,
That God bestows his love on me?

His name is wonderful, Wonderful Counsellor,
We will wonder at his wisdom,
It makes fools of wisemen,
And all the pride that gives them,
His wise words are life to us,
We will wonder how we missed them,
His words are life itself,
If we listen then and live them,

His name is Mighty God,
This Child in a stable,
He’s powerful, Magnificent, Omnipitent and able,
A Hero here in swaddling cloth,

A Saviour to the world,
Saving us from coming wrath,
And vengeance as it’s unfurled,

His name is Everlasting Father,
He is the Ancient One,
He is Father, yes,
And yet still he is The Son,
He is here by his own design,
Though he cannot speak a word,
This Baby-King, Jesus is,
The Everlasting Lord,

His name is Prince of Peace,
A peace no one else can give,
And his peace will never ever cease,
And In it we’ll truly live,

And of the increase of his reign and peace,
It shall never ever cease.

After The Harvest

After The Harvest (Song For Boaz)

I'm writing this song, my darling

I'm writing this song.

To you, while you're gone,

While I'm here,

With our son

I'm writing our song,

Who would have thought, Sweet Boaz,

I would have caught,

Your eye, in a field?

Stakes were high,

So was the yield.

Who would have thought?

That all of the time

The ground was frozen

We were in despair,

That from beyond time our God had chosen,

To bring out the blessed harvest there,

I was a stranger, my darling,

You brought me in,

where to begin?

I was your kin,

Dear Boaz,

You welcomed me in.

I was alone, cold in the night,

You kept me warm,

Until it was light,

You promised me then,

You'd put wrong things right,

You promised me then,

Though all of the time

The ground was frozen

Though we were in despair,

That from beyond time our God had chosen,

To bring out the blessed harvest there,

I told my Mother, Dear Boaz

I told them all

Of my once empty Shawl,

Now overflowing with grain,

Well.

I had to explain

And I couldn't contain,

Well dear Boaz, since I'm writing our song,

I have to say,

Though it could have gone wrong,

It wasn't so long,

Till our wedding day,

As I look at our son, dear Husband,

While he's sleeping,

I cant keep from weeping,

With joy,

For this boy,

As I look at our son,

He has your eyes, my darling

Will he have your mind?

Will he be kind?

What will God bring him?

Where will life take him,

What will he find?

And what of his Children? Dear darling,

And what will they build then?

Will they be kings then?

And will they be kinsmen,

Like MY Kinsmen,

Will they redeem them?

All of the strangers, All the oppressed then,

All of the orphans, will they be blessed then?

I have a feeling,

My darling,

They just might be,

Just like you loved me,

That all of the time

The ground was frozen

We were in despair,

That from beyond time our God had chosen,

To bring out the blessed harvest there,

And after the hearts harvest

After the hardness

After the morning

Emerges from darkness

There is plenty love to spare,

We will count our blessings there,

And it wasn't so long, dear Boaz,

Since he came along,

Our little son,

And while you are gone

I'm writing to say,

Obed started talking today,

Addicted to Grace

It is not so much,
that I am addicted to grace,
But that grace is addicted to me,

And no matter the prison,
or the depth of the trap.
I am never not free.

It is love that will not let me go,
When I have rejected it,
It is hope that exists,
Within the shell of despair,
however low it is that I sit.

And spit,
my broken teeth out into the dust,
But not so broken as I,
Not so broken as trust,

Still It is that the deepest depths of despair,
Are not quite deep enough,
To stop his grace from going further,
Or to exhaust the resource of his limitless love,


When the wayward son had spent all he had taken,
And now longed to steal food from the swine,
The Father was stood out waiting,
And watching all the time,

The returning son expected punishment,
He expected to be demoted and bought low,
And even whether he would be allowed to stay,
He thought it would be touch and go,

I am no, longer worthy, he'd say,
To even be called your son,
And Dad you cant begin to imagine,
Some of the things I have done,
Take me as you servant,
Stripped of status and let me serve,
And I can only begin to tell you dad,
It's no more than I deserve,

And when the prodigal finally returned,
Stinking of pigs and drinking and whores
The father threw his arms around him instead
Threw a party and threw open the doors

He threw caution and reproach to the wind,
Threw a party and said  'it's all yours',
So don't slink over there in the corner,
Don't cower on all fours,
This love is for you,
This love, you know, is all yours,


It is not so much,
that I am addicted to grace,
But that grace has it's hold on me,

And no matter the prison,
or the depth of the trap.
I am never not free.

It is love that will not let me go,
When I have rejected it,
It is hope that exists,
Within the shell of despair,
however low it is that I sit.

And spit,
my broken teeth out into the dust,
But not so broken as I,
Not so broken as trust,

Still It is that the deepest depths of despair,
Are not quite deep enough,
To stop his grace from going further,
Or to exhaust the resource of his limitless love,
For God so loved the world,
That he gave his only Son,
That whosever believes in his name,
if they simply come,
Shall not perish, but live forever,
Never to be undone.

He paid the price,
the sacrifice,
So our debts are paid,
His perfect love,
Scares off our fears,
So we need never be afraid.

You may not be addicted to grace,
But grace is addicted to you,
It's love that'll never leave you,
Transforming you through and through.

You see we cannot outsin his grace,
We cannot outgive his love,
We cannot overestimate his patience,
His sufficient Love is always enough,

The answer is in the son,
The answer is in the son,
The son, Jesus is the one,

And it's not so much
That I'm addicted to grace,
Although I suppose that I am,
because when my best is not enough,
And I have done all that I can,
I need just a little bit more,
I have to have a little bit more,
There's always enough,
Love to go round,
to pick me up
And knock me back to the floor,
Jesus
I'm yours,
Now,
And evermore.

The Locust Years

The cracked, baked and scorched earth,
Speaks nothing of the hope of birth,
The hard ground,
The unbroken soil,
The charred remains,
Of last years toil,

The locust thief, who came and went,
Left nothing behind when he was spent,
And nothing burst into flame,
And took what was left after the locust came,

And what was left for us?
Devastation,
And mistrust,

And we surveyed the loss,
No accident of nature,
Did this,
To us,

This is his voice to us,
How threatening at first,
How dangerous,

We thought,

There is now nothing left to revive,
Nothing here has been left alive,

But,

Beneath the solid cake of earth,
Remained,
A seed,
Or root,
To birth,

We thought the fire had finished us,
But germinating within the crust,
Burried beyond all natural sight,
A sprout reaches out,
For a chink of light,
A remnant of what was planted remains,
Lies in waiting for the sound of rain,

A hope when hope was gone,
A way in the wasteland,
Where there once was none,

The latter rains they came,
And soaked the earth,
Once scorched by sun and flame,
Refreshed the soil once again,
Washed consciences and soothed the pain,

The latter rains;
They came,
And came,
They cleansed the ground,
Of bitter blame,
And blessed the earth,
Once again,

Now green shoots appear,
All across the earth,
The roots of hope and re-rebirth,
The open pastures are springing up,
The bread is baking,
The wine flowing over the cup,
And now the memory of all the lack,
Is gone,
And is,
Not coming back,

The Locust years are past,
And gone behind,
restored to us,
And restored to mind,

We have been faithless,
We have been blind,
But now we see,
And know he's kind,
(Slow to anger and quickly kind),

We return tyo him with all our hearts,
We can begin, we can restart,
Don't tear our clothes,
But break our hearts,
Into pieces,
Into parts,
He will rebuild.
We will be filled,

And wake
from dreamless sleep,
To dream the waking,
Dreams that keep,
The arresting visions of,
The Father's love,
Dealing wondrously with us,
As it is poured out upon all flesh,
Poured out,
and lavished,
On us,
Afresh.

"And If we ask,
He will come,
Send his rain,
On everyone".