May my body be your temple
where the Spirit comes to rest;
like a swallow at your altar,
build inside of me your nest.
Make my breath the wind that cools you;
let my caverns be your shade.
Settle here where I can soothe you,
in the body you have made.
For you formed me out of ashes,
from the richness of the earth,
and each river, as it passes,
is the water of my birth.
So your fingerprints are on me
where you hands have shaped my clay,
and if you if what you call me,
nothing different will I say.
Make of me your home and comfort;
Jesus, make of me your throne,
your inheritance and portion
marked out for yourself alone.
And when I begin to crumble
and return again to dust,
haunt the ruins of your temple
'til the day you raise it up.
Through him all things were fashioned,
through Christ, the light from light.
A boundless grace unrationed
and all unhindered might
poured into dust and ashes,
o'erflowing day and night;
the sinews of compassion
in every depth and height.
And, in the Father's image,
these works of flesh and blood,
formed out of bone and kinship,
called by the Father good.
Not all the tides of envy,
nor wrath in all its flood,
the face of Christ have riven
or turned him from their love.
And so he came, full-hearted,
into the world he shaped;
he came and died a martyr
for what his love creates:
the image of the Father
in Abel and in Cain,
and he will not discard us,
but safeguards what he made.
In “Creation of Adam,” Michelangelo provides a great example of the substantive view of the image of God through the mirroring of the human and the divine. By Michelangelo – See below., Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=15461165
O God, you knit me in the dark,
wet earth you wove around a spark.
Within the waters wound in blood,
you breathed in me and called me good.
Through days of sprouting, bud, and bloom,
through falling leaves and growing gloom,
'neath circling stars and wandering sun,
you hold the earth my steps have run.
Through days of drought and pouring rains,
still, Eden flows within my veins.
Then let me hear you through the flood
cry out again that it is good.
For this is all I truly have
and all I bear into my grave;
while moon and stars wheel on above,
I give this flesh in all I love.
An Eden where an Adam formed:
Your sons were from my body born,
and silent prayers by breaths are marked
or tears that seek you in the dark.
This is my body, giv'n to you
whose image scored it through and through,
and this I offer is my blood:
Oh, say again that it is good!
Day unto day cries out the heavens' message;
night unto night makes every teaching known.
Creation's gifts, the wonders that they presage:
the words rise up from every stock and stone.
The works of God are still God's self professing
while God's own Son stands naked and alone.
Day after day, he stood before the Temple,
night after night, unfolding heaven's plan:
what all seeds know and every stone remembers,
a mercy more than all the heavens' span.
They see him now, and all Creation trembles:
He breathes his last, the Son of God made man.
Day darkens day, and all the world is weeping.
Night cries to night a sorrow without end.
The stones will shout if we are silent, sleeping,
as Abel's blood cried out when he was rent.
For he is dead, Creation in his keeping:
the Word made flesh, God's love from heaven sent.
Day after day, gone where we cannot follow;
night after night, descending to the dead,
he leads them out 'til hell is wracked and hollowed.
The stones roll back; Creation lifts its head
to see its fall in victory is swallowed!
Christ has returned, and death itself has fled!
Six days you labored o'er the earth,
filled it with every wondrous beast.
For every hunger, every thirst,
you made your gifts an endless feast.
Each work of land or sky or flood
you saw and loved and called it good.
Did you withhold your sight divine,
or did we lose it at the Fall?
Or are we, willful, deaf and blind
to your own image and your call?
We've heard, but have not understood;
we've seen, but have not called it good.
As if a day's creation failed,
so we reject what you have made:
your Spirit into flesh exhaled,
which we dismiss as merely clay.
The ancient lie too long has stood
that whispers, "No, it is not good."
Renew your labor in us, Lord,
that we may love what you have blest.
Bring us into your own accord
before the coming day of rest.
Work still within us, dust and mud,
that we may see and call it good.
This folio from Walters manuscript W.106 is the first image in a series of Bible pictures. The artist William de Brailes tells the Genesis story, condensing two days of Creation into one image. On the first day of Creation, God created heaven and earth, and the earth was without form and void. The Spirit of God moved across the face of the waters, and we see God himself gesturing to the Spirit with his right hand. God raises his left hand to the waters above him, which he separated from the firmament, beneath his feet, on the second day. By William de Brailes – Walters Art Museum: Home page Info about artwork, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=84171636
To the tune GOTT VATER SEI GEPRIESEN (“O God, Almighty Father”):
Oh God, in day's beginning
you spoke your joyous word
and breathed you spirit in them,
the people of your work.
Shaped of earth and sacred pow'r,
lasting but a holy hour,
formed by God, made for God,
we God's people sing God's praise!
The Lord would not have made us
if not for sheer delight;
for this did God create us:
for pleasure in his sight.
In his image fashioned us,
with his love impassioned us,
formed by God, made for God,
we God's people sing God's praise!
Though we should fail and falter,
and fall when we should stand,
in mercy still our Father
does not withdraw his hand.
Still he waits to share with us
all the love he bears for us.
Formed by God, made for God,
we God's people sing God's praise!
Then bring to God your suff'ring,
your tempests, and your trials.
You are the gift you're off'ring,
the Lord's belovèd child.
So the Father gives the Son
to us, in the Spirit one.
Formed by God, made for God,
we God's people sing God's praise!
Kate Bluett 