Conjugation Exercise

I.
O LORD, be my shepherd,
Then I shall not want.
Make me to lie down in green pastures:
Lead me beside the still waters.
Restore my soul:
Lead me in the paths of righteousness for thy name’s sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
Let me fear no evil:
Be thou with me;
With thy rod and thy staff comfort me.
Prepare a table before me in the presence of mine enemies:
Anoint my head with oil;
Overfill my cup.
Cause thy goodness and mercy to follow me all the days of my life:
And let me dwell in thy house for ever.

II.
Our Father, which art in heaven,
Hallowed be thy name.
Thy kingdom is coming,
Thy will shall be done
In earth, as it is in heaven.
Thou givest us day by day our daily bread.
Thou forgivest us our debts,
As we forgive our debtors.
Thou leadest us not into temptation
But deliverest us from evil:
For thine is the kingdom,
And the power, and the glory,
For ever. Amen.

—8/24/24

Confession

Jesus, I apply to thee:
Dire the plague that ails my soul,
Other succor do not see,
None but thou canst make me whole.
And thou know’st I’ve tried my best
Other remedy to find,
Yet in none save thee is rest.

Mercy on a sinner take;
Hear, O Lord, my feeble prayer.
Do not me to hell forsake,
Though a seat I’ve earned in there.
Naught in me can claim thy grace,
Yet I sorely pardon crave;
Leave me not to my disgrace.

Inward, what I quail to find
Is the old man thou hast slain,
Dark of heart, of futile mind—
‘Cept if thou restore again.
Faithful Jesus, cling to me;
Spirit right within renew;
Let the new creation be.

See the penitent: he stands
Ere the mercy-seat above.
Let the blood from Jesus’ hands
Sprinkle in atoning love
Over every wicked thing
That I’ve ever entertained.
If thou cleanse me, I am clean.

Clothe me, Lord, in righteous white;
Fire in thy refining grace;
Fit for beatific sight
Of thy blazing, holy face.
Then at last my heart can raise,
Free, amazed, and full of love,
Perfect, pure, eternal praise.

—8/9/24 (probably based on Psalm 51)

Do you think Jesus fantasizes

About life with the Beloved?
Does he dream of forehead kisses;
Of falling asleep on the couch,
Her head on his shoulder while a movie runs;
Of holding hands at the store;
Of telling her about his day?
Does he think about the nice clothes he will get her
(For the fine linen is the righteousness of the saints)?
Does he wait expectantly to show her a new heaven and a new earth:
“Babe, check out this place I built for you;
You’re really gonna love it.”

I Had the Weirdest Dream Last Night

I dreamt of heaven, which somehow
Was a Whataburger that let out into my backyard.
It had a few booths on a covered, lit outdoor patio
With space in the backyard for a bonfire,
And I knew eventually there would be a boombox;
It was that kind of yard.
A couple sheds for the kids to poke around in too.
It was late late afternoon,
And Dad was there, among other believers.
(I’ve never dreamed of heaven before,
And I was sorry to wake up.)
Jesus was there, easily the best part.
He was so happy we were there,
And we were so happy to see him.
Then he went to judge the earth.
He wasn’t playing the news out back,
But every time someone wandered out there,
We were overjoyed they’d made it
And asked them what had happened,
How bad it was out there,
To get a general sense of how far along Jesus was.
Someone who should have been there earlier came out,
And we wondered they hadn’t been called sooner,
But Jesus tapped the order screen
(We had one out back for this part
And he was back for a moment I guess?),
And the note on the fries said something like,
“We have spent a lot of time on this,
And now you are ready.”
It was so happy that Jesus had the order up.
(I know this person as a believer already,
So it was just a dream, and nothing real,
But it was illustrative, if you like.)
I dreamt on my way to the back, earlier,
I’d begged you to come with
And given you my Bible so you’d know the way later.
I kept looking to see if you’d made it to the back yet,
If Jesus had called you.
But I remember as twilight fell,
We were all most concerned—
Me too—
When Jesus would come back to start the party.

Daily Bible Reading

(Intercession for a friend.)

O bless the reading of thy word
As we attend unto it, Lord.
Let it not void return to thee,
But let thy will accomplished be.

Instill the humble, contrite fear
That trembles when thy voice is near
But moreso quails a way to know
Whereon thou choosest not to go.

Engrave thy statutes on our hearts,
From stone reviving inmost parts.
As we behold thy glorious face,
Conform us to thy glory’s grace.

The corn of faith within us sow
And tend it till it richly grow,
Nor let the devil choke, nor cares
Evince it to be naught but tares.

Inside us living water spring;
Our fruit upon thy vine O bring;
Enleaven in us living bread,
Thine ev’ry word a feast bespread.

As servant for his master waits
And watchman morning on the gates,
As handmaid holds to mistress see,
E’en so, O Lord, we look to thee.

The Maverick

sunset.
In a house without
a name, he stares down the
edge of the keenest blade he knows,
pointing now at them for whom he would
destroy his soul; turns; sighs; recedes into
the

Insomnia

Recall, my soul, at eventide
The mercies of the Lord
And how today when thou awok’st
They were to thee restored,
And when tomorrow findeth thee,
Renewed shall their expression be.

Confess, my heart, the debts thou ow’st
And rediscover peace.
Let not the sun go down upon
Just, faithful forgiveness.
Already Christ in vict’ry rose
O’er what thou shrinkest to expose.

Commit, my spirit, to his care
Thine own, and all thy woes,
Who all things worketh for thy good
And all things doth dispose.
For every trial thou dost face
He promiseth sufficient grace.

My soul, find rest in God above
When none is at thy bed.
Adoring and in suppliance,
In prayer be succorèd.
No pillow-talk could be as sweet
As when thou dost thy heav’n-mate meet.

—9/17/2022

The Boatman

Oh my boatman, where have you gone?
I looked for you at the ferry
At the place you used to cross
But none was there
It was abandoned, the ferry destroyed.
I asked the other boatmen
If they had seen you; they laughed
“A man of the river gone?
Perhaps he has followed it
Away from thee.”
I searched the battlefield
Picked bloody remains for my treasure
But you were not among the fallen
The buzzards claim you not more than I
I applied to the tents of the healers
To see if plague had consumed you
Many they see, few they remember
They did not know your face
I went down to every graveyard
Afraid to find a headstone
But no plot have I found that will hatch you
The ghosts do not name you there
Oh my boatman! where have you gone?
With you is my heart, with you my joy
Must I weep alone forever?

—On “Fear a' Bhàta”/“The Fields of Ard Skellig” 8/6/21 – 4/30/22

betty

(With deepest apologies to Swift and Poe.)

Betty, I make no assumption,
Dare exhibit not the gumption,
For thy home-room’s past transumption,
But I think it’s ‘cause of me.
Betty, once, my skateboard riding,
Petty chance, my wheel-course guiding,
Passed me by thy fair residing.
It was like I couldn’t breathe.

Betty, I recall the founding
Of romance’s first confounding:
‘Twas your favorite song’s resounding
From the far side of the gym,
You would look, but could not find me—
Crowds and I do not mix kindly;
This you know, need I remind thee?—
Plus I saw you dance with him.

From Inez you heard the rumor
(Ever love’s incessant tumor).
Oft we took her words in humor,
But this time her aim was true.
How could I inject “however”?
Explanation how endeavor?
For the worst thing that I ever
Did, was what I did to you.

Love and pavement in declension,
She arrested my attention,
Figment of my worst intention,
Coaxing, “James, get in. Let’s drive.”
Pride receiving any comer,
Balm for heartache seeking from her,
Though we trysted all of summer,
All my dreams were at thy side.

Betty, now for weeks I’ve planned it,
Dwelling on the desperate gambit
Till my soul can hardly stand it,
But it’s finally sinking in:
‘Tis one daydream’s last distraction
Till potential turns to action.
What were finally thy reaction
When you see my face again?

Dare I pray my sin suspended?
Dare I hope thy wings be mended?
If thy party I upended,
Wouldst thou bid me hangèd be?
Or to backyard gardens leading,
Hear the guilty mercy pleading,
Youthful ignorance conceding,
“All I know: I’ve missèd thee.”

Precinct Three Is Burning

And who can say it should not?
For my uncle Abel daily dies
By the hand of my father Cain.
Go to, ye blue-striped harlequins, weep and howl,
Lament not the fall of Babylon but
The subjugation of your neighbor.
•
The best relief for the orphan and widow is to not create them.
The noblest form of justice is to prevent injustice.
If you cannot change the soul, curb the flesh—
This is the purview of the law;
This is within your grasp.
•
Let the burning station be a sign;
Let the despoiled grocery be a byword.
“Justice perverted begets perverted justice;”
“What wounds a brother’s body, wounds my soul.”

#JusticeForGeorgeFloyd #JusticeforBreonnaTaylor #BlackLivesMatter