Wisdom Calls

Wisdom Calls

Wisdom, over din and clamor,

calls her suitors,"Turn aside!

Come! I will requite your ardor

as you will with me abide.

In my bower lie the words, which

jealous kings and augurs lust,

full of increase, fearfully rich,

for my lover held in trust."

"Fear the Lord and you will find me.

Find me, other treasures pale.

Gold will rust, fresh wells draw bloody

ere the righteous foot should fail.

Are you simple? Are you senseless?

My words are the faultless path.

Surfeit Folly reaps in violence - 

flee, ere she be stuft with wrath."

"Heed no more the songs of Folly - 

perfumed words dig open graves.

Blood, her milk, and dust her honey,

all her appetites enslave.

Better crust of bread and water

than the wine of Folly's press.

Better still the yearling slaughter

humbly offered, meet to bless."

"Turn aside! My feast is ready

if you would be satisfied,

filled with Truth, of Prudence heady,

in fair Counsel edified.

Ere the dawn of all creation

I have dwelt as God's delight!

Heed my gracious invitation - 

seize on Life and dwell in Light."

Wisdom whispers, still and secret,

"Lean not on your own device.

Christ will keep your pilgrim spirit - 

let no brazen claim entice.

This is faith: He is your treasure.

Glorify your joyous prize,

chase His steps, fill up His measure,

know Him and be counted wise.

~

AMDG/4.4.2014

The Armies of the Lord

The Armies of the Lord

See! The LORD conscripts His armies' might,

assembles His sworn banner-men to fight!

All earthly force His due,

all heav'nly ranks to war! Unto

His purposes they march, as just His right.

Swarming fleas and flies to choke and blind -

He flooded foes, and none could respite find.

His locusts stripped the land,

and frogs enveiled at His command,

consuming all whereof He had the mind.

Wroth, He summoned forth a black-flamed ghost,

and left no aping sorcerer his boast.

Each firstborn life cut down

from utter calf to princely crown;

unstoppable, one hand His vengeful host.

Raised, great Pharaoh's chariot and horse

were sent to set the Tribes their promised course.

God purposed not to slay

His own but, that remembered day,

to feast His fish with such a mighty force.

See! the armies of the LORD are raised

against the hardened heart withholding praise!

No power may refuse

but is expent as He may choose -

life, e'en in death, exalts Him endless days.

~

AMDG

4/10/2014

Unless My Sins

Unless My Sins

If my sins have not nailed You to the cross

(O! Christ! O! Precious Christ!) 

they surely yet adhere me fast to Hell. 

I cannot purchase grace, nor due wrath sell 

(My God! Most Holy God!). 

Your mercy spends my guilt – what happy loss! 

You are enthroned where mercy, justice kiss

(O! Christ! O! Son of God!) 

upon the crux of imputation, crowned 

unendingly, made worthy by Your wound 

(O slaughtered, living Lamb!) 

to open Glory’s gates, seal the Abyss. 

Confession on our tongues is blood and bread

(O! Christ! O! Sacrifice!) 

spilt, split for souls undone by faith ill-spent. 

True faith bestow, inspirit to repent 

(O! Spirit! Holy Ghost!) 

and find sin’s death in our undying Head. 

Quitclaim, my soul, your striving, sin, your self,

(O! ever-hungry beast!) 

all fork-tongued accusation. In His death 

Christ robbed your trespasses of bitter breath, 

(O! Christ! Victorious!) 

there left them, gathered you unto Himself. 

Lord Jesus, sanctify this mystery

(O! Christ! Revealing Light!) 

in me – this righteous covenant of wine, 

all joy of faith, eternal life, none mine 

(O! Just and Merciful!) 

save that my sins have nailed You to the Tree. 

AMDG

Storehouses

Storehouses

Surely the houses of store of the Lord,

lacking for nothing but lack, have been laid

bones to the beams with His fullness, arrayed

generously, as abundance befits:

shield, armor, sword – thence the saints are outfit;

faith in great loaves, strength of men to the task;

grace inexhaustible, barrel and cask;

fitness of body and fatness of soul;

justice in seven gold, terrible bowls;

rain for the harvest and lightning for awe;

rule of His love, and the love of His law;

holiness whereby His name to confess;

treasure up-piling, all blessings to bless

heaped for our good, here, by provident Word.

 ~

Ravus Caelum

9/29/13

AMDG

Cast and So Sent

Cast and So Sent

You, Son of Man, before one man was cast

in clay and Breath, cast Your majestic guise

among Your sons, elect; there sight-full eyes

might apprehend Your awful type and vast.

You are the Rock; the struck-stone, stumbling-stone

unfit for babbling mortals' overreach,

yet siege is raised from You against the breach.

Your bride, her sword in hand, names You her own.

You are the Fisherman; in salty shoals

You brothers in Your grace-spun nets possess,

and multiply in baskets of excess

when served, with broken bread, to famished souls.

You are the Right-hand placed, the honored-seat;

of many brothers first, best-loved, most due.

Though fire and judgment fall, Your blood is true -

In You we die, in You arise complete.

You are Beloved, Bishop of these souls

who, exiled, dream beyond her welcome gates -

Jerusalem! To run to you! Your great

Word thund'ring claims all spheres and kingdoms whole.

You are the Shepherd of ten thousand flocks;

lost lambs, wild rams You feed abundantly.

They know Your voice and, called, the Father see,

well watered in the wastes and desert walks.

You are the Sower, feet stained dark with earth

between the furrows ere foundation torn.

Fig-shaded Word, searched deeply, swallowed, worn,

offends deceit; spread-seed of rich rebirth.

You are the Faith; our doubt is mortified

by iron, thorn, and steel. Your chasmal gore

rewards all trust unseen with hope, and more,

in such souls blest to follow, crucified.

You are the Reaper, harvesting the grain,

forth drawing thence the levy due Your throne,

and from that tithe what sinner's-feast is thrown

finds all partakers struck of guilt and stain.

You are the Least, a servant humbly dwelt,

with calloused hands, in flesh and towel girt,

but God cuts stones of worth from lesser dirt,

exalts the low, and raises up the knelt.

You are the Lion. Triumph in Your roar

reveals to Your won tribe Your majesty

and melts their hearts who have no eyes to see,

nor ears to hear, scattered and driv'n before.

You are the Flame; that all-consuming zeal

affords no other Lord, nor law, nor love.

To will one thing, Your very self above

all else remains pure souls' delight and weal.

You are the Goat; beyond the city gates

You, cursèd, carry scornful treachery

to suffer, die impaled upon the tree:

ere first Word's sterling utterance Your fate.

You are the Lamb, the One who takes our place

and bears our lot, while we Your witness bear.

In task direct our hands, our lips in prayer

through water, dust, and air with present grace.

You are the Word of God sent forth in strength,

yet hosted in a little jar of clay -

sent forth, until that doom-full Trumpet-Day,

to tribe and tongue through all Earth's breadth and length.

You, Son of God, to Your own precious frame

call every saint to be conformed, that men

might see Your face, Your Father's face, and then

cast down their crowns and bless Your holy Name.

~

Ravus Caelum / AMDG / 9/19/13

New poem! There will be a prize involved for the first person who can correctly identify the vehicle I used to convey the conceit (by which i mean explain the rationale behind the order and the content of the stanzas). As always, enjoy the poem, and feel free to leave comments.

Ad Profundis

Ad Profundis

Merciful is Your Name, Fundament under all

depths, beneath every profundity, chasm, and

grave where we harrowed have fled to give void to our

misery; fleeing You, finding You, pity-full.

Peace in hope hidden, and hope with dawn rises, yet

dusk only now dusts the scarlet with shadow. Long

hours of grim Solstice distend the horizon and

settle her chill on these quivering denizens.

Joy is our right by inheritance. Blessed the

mourner, though first he a mourner must be. In the

ashes of all loved and longed for we lay and pray

silently, dreading the promise of happy days.

Fools, sincere, bludgeon with hasty serenity.

Jesus, before you arose as the Victor, you

dwelt in the dust and in silence knew dolor. What

solace or balm better fathoms the desolate?

Sit with me here, clad in cinders and camel-hair.

Spirit of Christ you are all consolation; You

only, enough. E’en this pit cannot spare me the

depth of Your presence encircling me, Merciful.

~

3-1-13

AMDG