Psalm 51: Wash Me

Have mercy on me, God, as you are holy.
Have mercy, Lord, for you are merciful.
Though I have wandered far from my own soul now,
you are yourself, a well forever full.

Have mercy, though I walk in my transgressions
and, feasting, fill my mouth with sand and dust.
I dream of rain and wake to find a desert:
If this is water, why do I still thirst?

A heart of stone can live on dust and ashes;
create a heart for me of flesh and blood
that feels the fear of loss and sting of gladness.
Renew me, and my barren shoots will bud.

You are the only sea: Fill this dry streambed.
You are the rain: Then quench these thirsting bones.
Let floods destroy my shame and self-deceiving.
The record of my sin make blank as snow.

Lord, open up my lips to taste your waters,
and in between the sips I'll sing your praise.
This desert that I built I will not offer,
but let this beating heart be yours always.

Self Made: Shot in Chicago in the parking lot of the Century Shopping Center on April 15, 2007 By Victorgrigas at English Wikipedia – Own work: Originally from en.wikipedia; description page is/was here., Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=2148320

Rain

I know but this one thing through all
I do or feel or see:
The sun will rise, the rain will fall,
God's grace pour down on me.

For on the unjust and the just
fall mercies without end,
and God, who knows that we are dust,
will pour them out again.

On bad and good he sends the rain,
for good and bad all thirst,
all weep in woe and wail in pain:
Storms find the best and worst.

As I am bad and good, rain falls,
as I am right and wrong.
The voice of God forever calls,
forever sings its song

to draw my evil nearer good,
to strengthen good the more,
and when I fail at what I should,
to heal what I deplore.

I cannot hoard what freely falls
or dam what flows so free.
God, pour it down alike on all,
that it may fall on me!

Raindrops falling on water Here comes rain again By Juni from Kyoto, Japan – Flickr, CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=356231

Dare

The clouds hang darkly overhead,
but rain is more than I can hope.
Long days the gaping ground has pled,
but heaven's only word is “no.”

And so this aching thirst remains;
dry tinder dreads the spark of hope,
for who will quench the rav'ning flames,
and what is left when ash has flown?

Unless there are such things as seas
and rivers ever onward run,
but deserts dare not oceans dream
when they must meet the morning sun.

Until some spark should split the sky,
'til mercy plummets from the clouds
and thund'ring angels “Holy!” cry
and heaven pours its graces out.

Let me remember this, O God:
That mercy always pours again
upon my troubled, tinder heart;
that I may dare to dream of rain.

Raindrops falling on water Here comes rain again By Juni from Kyoto, Japan – Flickr, CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=356231

Burning

To burn but not to be consumed
would take a miracle;
or keep the dark at bay, entombed,
the lantern always full;

not to burn out or fade away,
but steady, still, and bright,
to hold unhurt the twisting flame
and not give way to night:

How could it be?  No human flesh
could bear the angry flame.
These mortal limbs, no burning bush,
cry out for mercy's rain.

Pour out, O heaven: Pour it out;
this conflagration still.
Pour rivers down into this drought;
these aching branches fill.

Drown me in mercy; let it run 
from reaching hands to roots,
then let me draw it up again,
alive with growing shoots.

Soften the hardness of my heart,
long purified in flame.
Wear down this stone to flesh, O God,
under the touch of rain.

Fire from loppings By Pavel Ševela, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=1988522

Show Us, O Lord, Your Mercy

Show us, O Lord, your mercy
and grant us your salvation,
as water for the thirsty,
a feast in our starvation.
For we have walked a desert
in search of your oasis.
Give us, O God, your presence
to fill our empty places.

Let justice flow like rivers,
a great unfailing fountain,
and righteousness forever,
a flood to quench the mountains.
Your endless mercy give us,
depths that defy all sounding,
the peace that is forgiveness
in our dry souls abounding.

Pour out your grace in showers,
in deluge your compassion,
to drown despair's grim power
in hope's waves ever crashing.
And let our wasteland flower,
our desert turn to pasture
not blooming just an hour,
but unto death and after.

Rain, depicted in the 1493 Nuremberg Chronicle By Michel Wolgemut, Wilhelm Pleydenwurff – Self-scanned, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=6723766

God’s Word Goes Forth

Thus says the LORD:
Just as from the heavens
the rain and snow come down
and do not return there
till they have watered the earth,
making it fertile and fruitful,
giving seed to the one who sows
and bread to the one who eats,
so shall my word be
that goes forth from my mouth;
my word shall not return to me void,
but shall do my will,
achieving the end for which I sent it.
Isaiah 55:10-11

To the tune KINGSFOLD (“I Heard the Voice of Jesus Say”):

God's word goes forth to all the world,
its empty wells to fill,
as rain that falls or hailstones hurled,
on fallow land and tilled.
Its every thunder shall be heard,
each whisper be fulfilled.
Our thirsty ground drinks up the word
God sends to do his will.

Then turn from all our barren ways
to taste and see the Lord,
who rains down on our desert wastes
the manna of his word,
the gentle soaking of his grace,
the world-renewing flood
of love for all within his gaze:
it is so good, so good.

Then fall on us again, oh God;
each morning come anew.
Give us the shelter of your cloud,
refresh us with your dew,
and when we wither in the drought,
your life in us renew.
Come, fill the furrows you have plowed;
come, fill our hearts with you.