God-with-us, show me my neighbors:
I must love them as myself.
With my heart and with my labors
cherish them as my own flesh,
bear them up when I am able,
lend my strength or lend my wealth,
'til we come to your own table
where you feed us with yourself.
When I fall beneath my burdens,
when I cannot find my way,
give me neighbors on my journey;
through their efforts, give me grace.
In their kindness, show your mercy;
show yourself in every face.
Shepherd, heal me through their working
as we travel on in faith.
So shall we return to Eden
as you make a level road
through the marches of your kingdom,
bearing one another's load.
Savior, take our hands and lead us,
draw us each into your fold,
where we hold you, loving Jesus,
in each earthly hand we hold.
The good Samaritan, after Delacroix by Van Gogh, 1890 By Vincent van Gogh – The Yorck Project (2002) 10.000 Meisterwerke der Malerei (DVD-ROM), distributed by DIRECTMEDIA Publishing GmbH. ISBN: 3936122202., Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=151850
You shaped the heart you placed in me,
a sculptor working dreams in clay;
its every moment, every beat
is mercy's gift for every day.
The mind that ranges far afield
beyond the limits of my form:
A gift your grace alone could yield
from your infinity was born.
But even if I gave them all,
I could not love you half as well
as what I hear within your call,
a love beyond what I can tell.
My body's strength is not enough,
and feeble is the love it bears.
Upon your shoulders rests all love,
and nothing in myself compares.
My soul itself, made most like you,
is but a drop within your sea.
Creator God, what can I do
with all the gifts you've given me
but love you, Lord, with all of them,
with all of everything I have?
Imperfect, faulty though I am,
yet let me love with all your gave.
To the tune PASSION CHORALE (“O Sacred Head Surrounded”).
O God who dwells within us,
in whom we live and move,
when shall you mercy fill us?
When shall your might be proved?
You hunger in our hung'ring;
you feel our poverty.
You cry out in our suff'ring,
and in our tears you weep.
How shall you stretch from heaven
to hear your own heart's cry?
You sink in our oppression;
how shall you ever rise?
But still we know you hear us,
though others know us not,
and you will move to heal us
and heal them too, O God.
In hearts that have no neighbors
you dwell in us, as well,
that love none with their labors—
yes, even there you dwell.
The let our ears awaken,
our eyes be opened wide,
our hearts and souls be shaken
to love where you abide.
Come, lift the hands that hold you
in never-ending prayer,
and lift us all to know you
and serve you by our care.
Reach down, O God, from heaven
and reach up from within
to free us altogether:
Your kingdom usher in.
Come, the night is nearing;
all my days fly west.
I have long been weary,
striving to be blessed.
Gentle stars appearing
show a road unguessed:
Come, O Lord, draw near me;
lead me to your rest.
Come and take my fearing,
take my anxious breath.
Lay the balm of healing
where I long have bled.
Come, new lights revealing
though the sun has fled.
Come, O Lord, draw near me;
lead me to your rest.
Come, on dark ways stealing,
guide my searching steps.
Though I'm stumbling, reeling,
walk beside me yet.
With your mercy seal me;
touch my heart and head.
Come, O Lord, draw near me;
lead me to your rest.
When I cannot see the morning,
night extinguishes my flame,
as you pass me on your journey,
give me faith to call your name.
When the joyous crowd acclaims you,
drowning out my feeble cry,
give me still the voice to claim you
while you yet are passing by.
Let me call you by your father:
Son of David, pity me!
In our flesh we are as brothers:
Mercy, Lord; I want to see!
When your silence echoes in me,
give me faith that calls the more.
Rich derision though it win me,
I will shout 'til I am hoarse:
Son of David, oh, have mercy
on a son of man and mud!
Fill me 'til your name comes bursting
from the wrack of flesh and blood.
This shall be my burning vision,
light within my deepest night.
This must be my hope and mission
'til at last you give me sight.
De genezing van de blinde te Jericho door de Meester van de Inzameling van het Manna, circa 1470. By Master of the Gathering of the Manna – catharijneverhalen.nl, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=30045442
O Lord, my lamp is going out
before the buffets of the wind
that wails aloud as thunder shouts
to snuff the guttered light within.
But still the bridegroom does not come
while midnight stretches on and on.
How long, with hands and hearts gone numb,
can we yet stand and wait for dawn?
The storm refuses to abate;
our lights are growing yet more dim,
but still we stand and still we wait
and fight to hold some hope of him.
No ear shall hear above the wind,
but we still lift our voice in song
that our deep darkness shall be hymned
though still it stretches on and on.
Come quickly, then, to tend the flames
when hearts and flasks have all run dry.
Revive the lips that sing your name
while yet the long night passes by.
O Master, do not wait for dawn,
but come—Come now; no more delay!
For in your light the night is gone,
and you, yourself, shall be our day!
I cannot drink the cup you drink
or in your river be baptized
where in its current I would sink,
and how then could I ever rise?
I cannot sit at your right hand
or rule in glory at your side.
My seat must ever empty stand
while in the shadows still I hide.
But for the ones who dwell in shade
you came to bring the light of dawn;
into the kingdom you have made
you call me yet to journey on
where you hold possibilities
beyond the limits of my grasp.
All my impossibilities
are nothing in your mercy's clasp,
and all my weakness is as naught
where camels pass through needles' eyes:
The cup you pour shall drown my drought,
and from your river I shall rise.
Then draw me on into your light
to stand beside your royal throne
or take my seat, not by my might,
but only by your strength alone.
Mosaic in the Baptistry of San Giovanni of Florence, ca. 1300, by the Florentine Master By Florentinischer Meister um 1300 – The Yorck Project (2002) 10.000 Meisterwerke der Malerei (DVD-ROM), distributed by DIRECTMEDIA Publishing GmbH. ISBN: 3936122202., Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=150949
You, who walked the city streets and highways,
you, whose feet were covered in their dust,
walk with me through all my twisted byways;
take with me the steps I know I must.
You had not the shelter of the foxes;
you had not the comfort of the nest:
Walk with me the roads that lead through darkness;
be for me my shelter and my rest.
Word of God, that dwelt untouched above me,
Jesus, sinking in the mud of flesh,
walk with me and let me feel you love me.
Touch me still and fill my every breath.
You, who walked the valley of the shadow,
every step along the vale of tears,
walk with me and make this journey hallowed
through the darkened garden of my fears.
Son of God and image of the Father,
Christ Incarnate, wrapped in flesh and blood,
walk with me 'til I can walk no further.
Guide me by your never-ending love.
I am nothing made for greatness;
I will never be the first,
yet I cannot help but crave it
with a deep and piercing thirst.
Do you want this? Can you save it?
Or is such a hunger cursed?
When you came to turn the tables,
when you upset all our scales
with your kingdom built of stables
and your throne of wood and nails,
did you come for the unable?
Did you save the heart that fails?
Show me, Lord, your turning over
where you treasure all that's least;
how you draw our dying closer,
bringing us to heaven's feast;
how you come to save the lowest
with a love that will not cease.
Teach me, then, to love my weakness
if it brings you to my side;
even so to love my seeking,
love the failures of my pride
if they draw me to your keeping,
loved as your unruly child.
Good teacher, I have kept the law,
been faithful from my youth:
Shall I then enter heaven's doors
and dwell in endless truth?
Or is there something lacking yet,
some law left unfulfilled,
some measure that I have not met
in all that God has willed?
I honor all my kith and kin;
unstintingly I tithe,
but shall I ever enter in
and have eternal life?
I see no loathing in your eyes,
no judgment on your part—
No, but I feel the answ'ring fires
that kindle in my heart.
Have I been missing, all these years,
what God would have me do?
I met the standard of my fears,
but never yet met you.
Then call me on to something else—
my strength cannot avail—
and draw me closer to yourself,
though all my steps may fail.
And though I stumble on the way
as I had not before,
yet, Teacher, call me still, I pray
to seek you ever more.
Kate Bluett 