Teach me, my Savior, how to set mine eyes
Above, nor aim at any earthly prize,
But on thy cross and throne my gaze be fix’d,
Ev’ry affection bent t’ward thee, unmix’d,
So I would set my steps to then be most
To workings of thy Spirit unoppos’d,
As love and joy and peace and patience be
With ev’ry other fruit matur’d in me,
Until thou liftest up this childish frame
Unto thy Father’s side and thine, thy name—
The threefold Name that yet resolves as one—
To praise, and too the vict’ry thou hast won
O’er sin and death and me. My being cries,
O teach me, Savior, how to set mine eyes.

—On Colossians 3:1-2. Completed 9/29/25.

Anxiety's Resolution

I do not know what I shall be
Within a day or month or year
But trust my Lord’s authority
O’er everything that meets me here.

I know too well what I would be
Hadst thou not freely saved my soul,
So I commit mine all to thee;
Until thou come, sir, keep it whole.

I’ve tasted, too, what I can be
When from thy providence I stray,
So give me grace to trust in thee
To straighten out mine every way.

I thank you, Lord, that I have been
An anxious fool, yet still may find
Forgiveness for this silly sin
And trade it for your peace of mind.

I cannot fathom what I’ll be,
O Savior, when at last by grace,
My faith ensightened, I can see
And mirror thy most holy face.

Anxiety's Confession

I do not know what I shall be
Within a year, or month, or day;
Thy will, my Lord, I cannot see;
I know not how to make my way.

I do not know what I shall be
But fear thy Spirit might not guide
Me out of my iniquity
Or to the goodness at thy side.

I do not know what I shall be
If more by faith than sight I move
But know that my anxiety
Doth not my Master fear nor love.

So teach me what I ought to be:
A creature, who cannot command
The rains or snows to fall, like thee,
But waits, my Father, for thy hand.

I do not know what I shall be,
O Savior, when at last by grace,
Mine eyes enlightened, I shall see
And mirror thy most holy face.

Meditations: August 2025

Three things sing to their maker;
Four lift their voice to heaven:
The songbird lauds at morning
When he wakes to your beauty;
The cicada chants antiphon all afternoon,
Calling to you for his mate;
The coyote cries at night
Till you satisfy him with food;
And the lips of your servants praise
As they wait for you.

(In the style of Prov 30.)

My soul is very sorrowful, even to death.
My Lord, remain here and watch over me,
Far better than I have waited for you.

(Matt 26:28)