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.

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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

Journeys

The souls of the dead are in your hand—
but take the living, too,
who wander over sea and land,
and see us safely through.

For though our eyes are wide and bright,
we cannot see the way.
The light of noon is dark as night
and hides the coming days.

The wings of dawn will bear us far—
what dangers wait us there?
Be with us ever, guide and guard,
in all that we shall bear!

For we must go beyond the seas,
leave all we know behind.
We journey 'til all journeys cease—
Be with us, and be kind!

You see what cannot e'er be seen;
you knew me ere my birth.
You knit me in my inmost being
and drew me from the earth—

Then you will not let go of me,
the labor of your hands.
Though I go where I cannot see,
beside me there you'll stand.

L’aurore, Mer du Nord by Guillaume Vogels, c. 1877 – Robert Moyens: Guillaume Vogels 150 Jaar, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=4671281

Morsel

Riffing on Psalm 139 and food:

Lord, you search me, plumb me down to atoms,
dive into me, know the deepest fathoms.
Every moment, resting, reaping, rising,
every thought before my heart's devising,
every step is known ere I begin it.
Every breath I take, you are within it.

I could run, but I would not escape you;
shut the door, but still your light would break through.
I could climb a ladder to the heavens:
You would be on every rung ascending.
Though I turn and leave you far behind me,
even in the depths of hell you'd find me.

You know what I do before I will it,
know my every need—then, Lord, come fill it.
See my hands are lying empty, open;
see them take the bread this world has broken.
You, who even at the farthest shores dwell,
come be present in the smallest morsel.

Bless the gifts of rain and sun and labor;
bless me; make me kith and kin and neighbor.
We all know the taste of hope and hunger:
You know all of us, above and under,
everywhere we run, to west and easting.
Bring us all, then, safe into your feasting.

Hands at the Cuevas de las Manos upon Río Pinturas, near the town of Perito Moreno in Santa Cruz Province, Argentina. Picture By Mariano – Own work, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=265811

Leviathan

You made Leviathan to play with,
delighting in the crushing depths,
and in his mass you placed your Spirit,
to fountain up with every breath.

The birds that fly beyond the sunrise
can never migrate from your sight.
Before the hatchling's feeble first tries
you plot the movements of its flight.

And if a sparrow falls from heaven
you mark the place where it goes down,
for you who numbered every feather
were with it in the air and ground.

Then when I turn and flee you headlong
you wait for me at journey's end.
Should I refuse your call and sending
you are beside me as I stand.

So Jonah found you in the gullet
and in the bowels of the whale.
You came up with him, wrack and vomit,
in the bright sunlight on the shale.

Praise God who made the whales and fishes,
who made the sparrows and the hawks.
Praise God who made me as he wishes,
my fins and feathers, starts and balks.

The Pistrix, the Sea Monster that swallows Jonah By Sergioizzo – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=57892841

There Is a Light That Shines On Me

For when reading a Sister Wendy meditation on Rembrandt’s Return of the Prodigal Son gets you thinking about Psalm 139:

O God, you see into my heart;
you plumb the marrow of my bones.
You hear my silences afar;
all of my words you first have known.
When I rise up or sink to sleep,
there is a light that shines on me.

Ere I had seen the light of day
or stars afire in midnight gloom,
before I walked, you wrote my ways
who sculpted me within the womb,
and anywhere those ways may lead,
there is a light that shines on me.

Where can I go?  Where can I hide?
Where is there darkness deep enough?
The night is open to your eyes,
the shadows pierced through by your love.
What though I dive beyond the sea,
there is a light that shines on me.

When I run open-armed to death
and turn from all that love can do,
you wait for me with bated breath
and draw me softly back to you.
That in the end, wheree'er it be,
there's still a light that shines on me.

Return of the Prodigal Son By Rembrandt – 5QFIEhic3owZ-A — Google Arts & Culture, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=22353933

Within the Darkness

Within the darkness of the womb
you spoke my name and let me be.
The darkness was as light to you
as now my light is dark to me.

Teach me the measure of my days;
I count them back, but cannot tell
the meaning of the life you made—
though I know you make all things well.

Should I rise up or should I lie,
or should I act or even think
you know it better, Lord, than I,
writ down in never-fading ink.

Should I run out beyond the dawn,
or turn and to the darkness speak,
you know the words upon my tongue
with all the clarity I seek.

And when I come upon my death
or sink into the realms of gloom,
still do you know me in myself
within the darkness of the tomb.

Give me a little of your light—
yourself proceeding from yourself—
and break me open to my sight
to know you and to know myself.

By Caravaggio – Self-scanned, Public Domain, https://commBy Caravaggio – Self-scanned, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=15219497ons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=15219497

Caravaggio‘s The Calling of St Matthew uses darkness for its chiaroscuro effects. – Self-scanned, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=15219497

In Fear and Wonder: Psalm 139

In fear and wonder you have made
your creatures from the earth;
within the womb's enfolding shade,
before the strains of birth,
you shaped and drew each form and line
and made us each to your design.

The darkness of the soul is bright
before your searching gaze.
Though I should shroud myself in night,
you still know all my ways.
I have no secrets from your view:
My everything is known to you.

If I could ride the wings of dawn
to where the sea meets sky,
still from your sight I'd not be gone,
not though I flew so high.
If I should run to hide in hell,
yet there beside me you would dwell.

You know me, when I sit or stand,
my pulse, my every breath.
More than I do, you understand
my life, myself, my death.
What workings-out you work in me
are far beyond what I can see.

Far more than I can comprehend,
the wonders of your grace.
If I could run to where they end
and all your works outrace,
still would you stand beside me, Lord,
and I would stand in silence, awed.