Let Us Go

For God has commanded
   that every lofty mountain be made low,
and that the age-old depths and gorges
   be filled to level ground,
   that Israel may advance secure in the glory of God.
The forests and every fragrant kind of tree
   have overshadowed Israel at God’s command;
for God is leading Israel in joy
   by the light of his glory,
   with his mercy and justice for company.
—Baruch 5:1-9

A voice is crying in the desert:
“Make straight the path! Prepare the way,
that children may return from exile
and those in darkness see the day.

“The frail and foolish shall not falter;
the strong shall not oppress the weak,
but all come streaming to the altar
where kings bow down before the meek.”

But God it was made these rough places,
with plumb and line laid out the earth.
He comes, remaking this creation,
preparing hearts to know his birth.

And lo! The mountains bow to greet him;
the valleys rise to offer praise.
They know our God has come to meet us,
and all the earth shall see his face.

The narrow way grows wide and even
and shaded o'er by every tree.
No heights now block the way between us;
no gorges gape before our feet.

Then let us go along his highway
with all who come from east and west.
A light is breaking forth to guide us
into the pastures of his rest.

The Preaching of St. John the Baptist by Pieter Bruegel the Elder, 1566 – Google Arts & Culture: Home – pic Maximum resolution., Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=122059315

We Give You Thanks

For the mercies of the morning
stretching out into the day;
for the sunset westward falling
and the evening on its way;
for the stillness of the midnight;
for the ever-changing moon;
for the breaking of the dawnlight
and the morning coming soon,
	O God, we give you thanks.

For the planting and the growing;
for the sunlight and the rain;
for the sprouting and the growing
and the harvest of the grain
making gifts your people bring you;
for the table that you spread;
for the feasting in the kingdom
where your children all are fed,
	O God we give you thanks.

For the hungry and the thirsty;
for the captive and the free;
for the blind man crying “Mercy!”
saying, “Lord, I want to see”;
for the ones who are forgiving
as they, too, have been forgiv'n;
for the dead and for the living;
for the sinners welcomed in,
	O God, we give you thanks.

For the graces as we gather
and the bounty that we bless;
for the seasons and the sabbaths
and the sweetnesses of rest;
for the goodness of our labors;
for the fruits of earth and vine;
for the strangers now made neighbors
as we share the bread and wine,
	O God, we give you thanks.

Poster of cornucopia for California By http://www.library.ca.gov/calhist/images/big/cornucopia.gif, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=751696

Blessings

This morning, early for a plane bound northward,
I saw a flock of sparrows lost indoors
who landed at arm's length, then at a hair's breadth
above me soared.

And when I flew just lower than the angels,
so far and farther on my thinking sped,
I saw things clearly that 'til then were tangled
and wove their threads.

Alighting, I walked out into the forest
where fallen leaves red-carpeted the ground
like silk or cloth-of-gold laid out before me,
or dreams unbound.

How can it be that you are mindful of me,
as if your care were all for my delight?
How can it be, O God, that you so loved me
that there was light?

But so it is: I wander in your garden
and find at every step you've laid a feast.
O Lord, I did not know that I was starving
'til you said, “Eat.”

I take and eat, and you fill every morsel.
I drink the wine, and you run in my veins.
When still I thirst, this spirit still you pour so
in autumn rains.

More details

Roadway to Lindsey Lake in David Crockett State Park, located a half mile west of Lawrenceburg, Tennessee. By Christopher Hollis – Own work. The image appears on my my website., Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=5509905

Living Waters

From spring to river streams will go,
and rivers to the sea,
and when the living waters flow,
Lord, let them rise in me.

For I have thirsted these long days
while fountains run no more,
and now bone-dry I wait for pain—
Somewhere your waters pour.

Like sentinels await the dawn,
I wait for clouded skies,
for rivers rolling ever on,
for fallen waves to rise,

for creeks to laugh until they weep,
for cataracts to shout.
I know that deep calls out to deep
while I sit here in drought.

But you, who closed in doors the sea,
set hills not to be moved,
if you have closed these doors in me,
Lord, let me call it good.

Is this the fasting that you wish?
Not to my name but yours 
be all the glory, even if
the waters never pour.

Niagara Falls, from the American Side (Frederic Edwin Church, 1867) – qQE5jAFm16XHjQ at Google Cultural Institute maximum zoom level, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=21865696

The Canyon

At midnight, stars reflected in the river,
'til one got up and shot across the sky.
Another angel falling out of heaven?
No: firefly.

The crickets filled the stillness with their chorus;
a riverbank of frogs is counterpoint
as night lays out its wonders all before us.
The dark anoints

'til pale cliffs catch the light of early morning
and conqu'ring dawn surmounts the hillside's pow'r.
A herald birdsong greets the day a-borning:
the bright'ning hour.

And then the river gleams back at the glory:
Deep calls to deep, and blue proclaims to blue,
and not a word is lost of all their story
who call to you.

Between the river and the light of heaven,
the canyon's arms encircle all the world.
An element of this, I feel it given
and praise you, Lord.

Sumidero Canyon, Mexico By Sgroey – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=117035720

Bone of Our Bones

So the LORD God cast a deep sleep on the man,
and while he was asleep,
he took out one of his ribs and closed up its place with flesh.
The LORD God then built up into a woman the rib
that he had taken from the man.
When he brought her to the man, the man said:
   “This one, at last, is bone of my bones
       and flesh of my flesh;
   this one shall be called ‘woman, ‘
       for out of ‘her man’ this one has been taken.”
That is why a man leaves his father and mother
and clings to his wife,
and the two of them become one flesh.
—Genesis 2:18-24

We come from the dust of the earth,
and back to the dust we shall go
as naked at death as at birth;
our hands shall be empty once more.

So Adam from Eden came forth
to live by the sweat of his brow,
to wrestle with thistle and thorn
until he was laid in the ground.

But, oh, not alone shall he lie,
nor Eve shall not lie there alone,
for sprung from them both came the Christ:
In him all their sorrows are known.

He came to be shaped of the dust
and born of his mother in blood,
to share all our striving with us
and go back again to the mud.

For he is the bone of our bones,
and he is the flesh of our flesh.
No more do we walk on unknown,
but he bears our life and our death

to open the eyes of our hearts
and raise us again to new life
as sinless as back at the start,
to make us forever his bride.

Adam and Eve depicted in a mural in Abreha wa Atsbeha Church, Ethiopia, Photo By Bernard Gagnon – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=27934949