Wednesday, 20 March 2013

This Night's Psalm

To heaven’s heights,

From lowest lows,

Lord (for that is what you are, I know),

You call your people to raise their sights,

From the mire,

But not to the spire, to humanity’s grand-handed splendour,

But to the dour and dreary day to day with all its electric potential,

Dazzling moments, muddied and muddled by the grime of life,

Into this you step,


And hopeful,

And bring downcast eyes alive,

Within the confines of geographic melancholy,

You stretch out eternity before us,

And point to a tiny speck that glistens with potential.

You fling stars around space,

You blow life into being,

Your breath, refreshing and restoring,

And you show us abundance,

Some find it far from home,

Under glistening domes,

But for many, if not most of us,

Divine splendour must be found,

Among the coffee grounds, and tea stained cup rings,

The chance encounters on the streets,

The moving meeting with moments fleeting,

And through it all, you.


You are.

You were.

You will be.


And I ponder,

And my pondering turns to wondering,

And this wondering turns to a churning in my stomach,

A yearning in my inner core,

A candle-light that flickers against,

A backdrop of wheezy coughs and bitter rain,

And this slender light persists,

And I seek to kindle this fire,

That from deep inside does grow,

Even when the wind of the Spirit does not seem to blow,

I try beyond trying to remember,

That from heaven’s highest,

To the lowest lows,

You are Lord,

(And this I know).

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