Mercy

You rose, O Christ, creation's brightest morn,
but still you show the marks where you were torn.
On us who wound you still as we did then,
breathe peace again.

On Thomas, smarting raw with newfound grief,
who could not bear the burden of belief,
when he cries out at last, “My Lord and God!”
show him your heart.

And Mary, who your messenger became,
was blind to you until you called her name.
She clutched at you: Her frightened grasp release
and give her peace.

Then Peter, too, who knew himself afraid
but when the cockerel crowed three times, “Betrayed!”
whose courage died, as it lived, by the sword:
Have mercy, Lord.

And even—in your mercy's farthest scope—
on him who dangled from a desperate rope,
poor Judas, come to greet you with a kiss:
Forgive him this.

For none of us can love you as we should;
for all of us, your grief turns to our good.
On us who take our comfort in your wounds, 
have mercy, too.

The Incredulity of Saint Thomas by Caravaggio, c. 1602 – Downloaded from Google Arts & Culture using dezoomify-rshttps://artsandculture.google.com/asset/der-ungl%C3%A4ubige-thomas-michelangelo-merisi-named-caravaggio/OAEjjQkNdRL9sg, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=120649550

Christ Our Light Is Dawning

How beautiful upon the mountains
       are the feet of him who brings glad tidings,
   announcing peace, bearing good news,
       announcing salvation, and saying to Zion,
       “Your God is King!”
Hark! Your sentinels raise a cry,
       together they shout for joy,
   for they see directly, before their eyes,
       the LORD restoring Zion.
   Break out together in song,
       O ruins of Jerusalem!
   For the LORD comforts his people,
       he redeems Jerusalem.
   The LORD has bared his holy arm
       in the sight of all the nations;
   all the ends of the earth will behold
       the salvation of our God.
—Isaiah 52:7-10

How beautiful the footsteps
and steady-beating heart 
that bring to us a good word
and say, “Here is your God!”

Now see what he is doing,
that never yet was seen.
Break into song, you ruined,
for you have been redeemed!

Our sentinels have told it—
O, hearken to their cry!—
and we, too, shall behold it,
the dawn that greets our eyes.

The empty places in us
where shadows made their home,
shine out as morning fills us,
for lo! Our light has come!

For all the days we hungered,
new feasts will fill our lack.
All that was taken from us
will someday be led back.

Stand up and greet the morning,
the promise coming true.
For Christ our light is dawning
and mercy is made new!

Aci Castello Sicily Italy – Creative Commons by gnuckx By gnuckx, CC BY 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=53170013

May There Be

For the hungry and the thirsty,
for the for the poor and for the meek,
for the blind man crying, “Mercy!”
saying, “Lord, I want to see,”
when the skies rain down a savior,
when he gathers east and west,
may there be a great high table
where the least have all the best.

For the robber robed in splendor,
for the beggar at the gate,
for the last man in the vineyard,
for the bridesmaids coming late,
when the bread of heaven's broken,
when the saints go marching in,
may there be a door left open
as the wedding feast begins.

For the desperate and down-hearted,
for the captive and the bound,
for the ones who dwell in darkness,
all those waiting to be found,
when the shepherd comes to free them,
when the nights gives way to dawn,
in the loving arms of Jesus,
may we find the light goes on.

Late Roman marble copy of the Kriophoros of Kalamis (Museo Barracco, Rome) By No machine-readable author provided. Tetraktys assumed (based on copyright claims). – No machine-readable source provided. Own work assumed (based on copyright claims)., CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=9811227

Already Drawing Near

Though no one can say when it's coming,
for no one can see it appear,
the kingdom of God is among us.
The savior already draws near.

He hungers in all of the hungry;
in every dry throat does he thirst,
and all that we do is done to him.
In all of our wounds he is hurt.

But we have not learned how to see him—
O come, Son of Man, touch our eyes
to know you in all that we meet here.
O wisdom of God, make us wise

to weep with your children in sorrow,
to shelter your flock from the cold.
O dawn from on high, break our darkness
and light the way into your fold.

For there you will set a great table
and call us all into the feast—
but here let us feed you, O Savior,
yourself in the last and the least.

And thus, we will learn how to hear you:
O David's Son, lift up your voice
to heal us and let us draw near you.
Lord, shepherd us into your joy!

The Sarcophagus of Marcus Claudianus (ca. 330-335, Palazzo Massimo, Rome): Detail, a harvester. The figure directly to the left of the decedent’s portrait is a man harvesting wheat. Paired with the vintage on the right, this is possibly a Eucharistic reference. Photo By Dick Stracke – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=31956395

When You Return

When you return, O God,
O brighter than our sun,
to reckon all our rights and wrong,
our done and left undone,

there at the end of time
when at your feet I stand,
oh, take the oceans of my crimes
and pour them through your hands.

The words I should not say,
the swords I should not wield,
pour in and let them drain away
through mercy's wounds unhealed.

For I am sunk in them
who cannot walk their waves.
They seep out through your innocence
'til all that's left is grace.

As deep as I have drowned,
raise me and let me stand.
The millstone ropes at last unwound,
let me rest on dry land.

And see: My sins are gone
and you alone remain.
Now fill me with the light of dawn
and make me new again!

Gospel Book, Second Coming of Christ, Walters Manuscript W.540, fol. 14v. This manuscript was executed in 1475 by a scribe identified as Aristakes, for a priest named Hakob. It contains a series of 16 images on the life of Christ preceding the text of the gospels, as well as the traditional evangelist portraits, and there are marginal illustrations throughout. The style of the miniatures, which employ brilliant colors and emphasize decorative patterns, is characteristic of manuscript production in the region around Lake Van during the 15th century. By Walters Art Museum Illuminated Manuscripts – https://www.flickr.com/photos/39699193@N03/8509826031/, CC0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=76790938

Kings of Earth

Riffing on Psalm 33:

Kings of earth call up their armies;
warriors sharpen spear and sword.
God moves earth and sea, disarming;
empires fall before the Lord.

Let the heart still hold its secrets;
let the plotting mind still plan.
God who made them holds their seasons;
they shall not extend their span.

Human strength avails us nothing:
Chariots sink into the sea;
weapons crumble, scarred and rusted;
all our tow'rs shall toppled be.

What will last? The stars o'erreaching.
What goes on? The ocean waves.
What stands firm? The earth beneath us,
while our mortal dust decays.

Even these shall cease their turning,
falling into entropy,
yet shall God in endless mercy
make his children still to be.

Kings and princes plot their vengeance
sinking in oblivion.
Still in God our hope is endless:
Mercy flows forever on.

Discarded and Forgotten, in DüsseldorfBy marsupium photography – https://www.flickr.com/photos/hagdorned/9291943561/, CC BY-SA 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=57468833

Axes

Will you, O God, look on my days with favor
and bless the feeble faithfulness you see
with mercy for the thousandth generation,
as graces from my forebears came to me?

Will you behold my striving with your kindness
and witness all my efforts from above?
The consequences of my self-made blindness
will you withhold from those I dearly love?

Or will you let the axes I have sharpened,
that I let fly, fall earthward as they will?
I fear them not, O Lord: My heart is hardened,
but how can I not fear that they may kill?

But if you will, reach out your heand from heaven
and turn all my destructive ways aside.
What I have loosed, bind into your indenture;
where I have prisoned, throw the portals wide!

Yet you will not, until the trump has sounded,
turn anyone aside from his own sense.
Instead you stand, unweaponed love unbounded,
and let the axes fall upon yourself.

Lord, I would be a blessing to my children,
as I am blessed by those who came before.
Then let me bear with patience all that kills me
and stand beside you here forevermore.

~ “He who does not keep peace shall lose his hand.” By Photo: Andreas Praefcke – Own work own photograph, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=169895

Seat of Grace

Brothers and sisters:
Since we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens,
Jesus, the Son of God,
let us hold fast to our confession.
For we do not have a high priest
who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses,
but one who has similarly been tested in every way,
yet without sin.
So let us confidently approach the throne of grace
to receive mercy and to find grace for timely help.
—Hebrews 4:14-16

When you appear before us
and all has been made known,
shall we approach your glory
and kneel before your throne?
So now while you are hidden
we still seek out your face;
we know you welcome sinners
there at the seat of grace.

No kings sit at your right hand,
no princes at your left:
The throng who in your sight stand
were servants of the rest.
And you, O Lord, uphold them—
so we would be upheld.
Until we can behold you,
grant us your timely help!

To love you in our service,
and love our neighbor, too,
to know the gift of mercy—
and always to know you.
So we bring all our weakness,
our sorrow, and our sin
and seek our great high priest here:
O, bid us enter in!

Mantle

To those who stand on corners
or walk the highways out,
to those who sleep in doorways,
reach out your mantle now
and drape it as a shelter
across the unkind earth,
a tent of finest velvet
for those who sleep on dirt.

Reach out to them, O Mary
apparelled in the sun,
the hounded and the harried,
and hide them from the guns.
See those in need of rescue
and spread for them your cloak
to be a sky-blue refuge
that screens them from the foe.

O Mother, now behold them,
the weary and the poor,
and in your arms enfold them 
where once you held the Lord,
to shield them from the Herods—
O, bear them safe away
beyond the reach of terror
to live another day.

The Ravensburger Schutzmantelmadonna, c. 1480, attributed to Michel Erhart, painted limewood, Bode Museum, Berlin. Attributed to Michel Erhart – Self-photographed, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=2293730

Psalm 139: Too Great For Me

Based on Psalm 139:

You saw me in the darkness
within my mother's womb;
in every hope and heartache
I have been known to you.
I flee you and I fight you;
I turn from you in shame,
but I cannot deny you,
and still you call my name.

In rising and in sinking,
in falling, there to lie,
all that I long have hidden
is here before your eye.
My secrets and my shadows
to you are bright as day,
and all I long to ask you,
you know before I say.

When I would shrink in terror
there's courage that you give,
who know me in my failure—
You know, and you forgive.
And still you call, O Father;
beside me still you stand.
Too great for me, this knowledge,
that I am in your hand.

More details

Coro alto, Sé de Braga Portugal. Photo By Joseolgon – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=72225140