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

Whatever

We hear the trumpet stirring, Lord,
the long crescendo of the drums.
If there is peace or there is war,
still, bless us in whatever comes.

So long we have been hot and cold
that now we've just gone mostly numb.
Our hands feel not, and nothing hold,
but bless us in whatever comes.

The tongues that clamored all ran dry;
they've spent their noise and fallen dumb,
so who is left to lift the cry,
“Oh, bless us in whatever comes”?

For it will take us by the hair
and play our nerves like catgut strummed
whether we do or do not dare.
Lord, bless us in whatever comes.

And let it, when it's had its day
to foul the feast and leave us crumbs,
pass over and be on its way.
Oh, bless us in whatever comes.

Though time will ride us o'er rough-shod,
it goes back where it first came from.
You gather it and us, O God,
and bless us in whatever comes.

Screenshot of the film The Man Who Knew Too Much (1956) in which Doris Day performs the song Que Sera, Sera. By Paramount Pictures – Trailer of The Man Who Knew Too Much., Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=65534401

Shield

Based on Psalm 144:

Though I will pass like shadow,
leave nothing when I go,
you train my hands for battle,
my fingers for the bow.

When enemies surround me,
O Lord, come down to me
like fire upon the mountains,
like lightning on the sea.

Without you, I am helpless
at home or in the field,
but you have been my refuge
and you will be my shield.

Then in the press come guide me,
lest in the depths I drown.
If you will stand beside me
I fear not to go down.

The poor will have your justice,
as sure as birds have wings;
you give bread to the hungry
and victory to kings.

Give me, O God, my freedom
and give to me your light.
A new song I will sing you
who trained me for this fight.

Iron Age bronze shield, known as the Battersea Shield By BabelStone, 21 August 2010, CC0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=11607584

Lilies

Learn from the way the wild flowers grow.
They do not work or spin.
But I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor
was clothed like one of them.
If God so clothes the grass of the field,
which grows today and is thrown into the oven tomorrow,
will he not much more provide for you, O you of little faith?
So do not worry and say, ‘What are we to eat?’
or ‘What are we to drink?’ or ‘What are we to wear?’
All these things the pagans seek.
Your heavenly Father knows that you need them all.
But seek first the Kingdom of God and his righteousness,
and all these things will be given you besides.
Do not worry about tomorrow; tomorrow will take care of itself.
Sufficient for a day is its own evil.

—Matthew 6:24-34

Don't worry for tomorrow,
but let it go its way.
Sufficient is the sorrow
that comes in every day.

This one has got its evils
enough for you to meet.
Your sowing and your reaping
cannot delay its grief.

Then let your hands be open,
come laughter or come dread;
your reaping and your sowing
shall be your daily bread.

Consider well the lilies,
how gorgeous they appear:
Not all the threat of winter
can make them bow to fear.

Though to the year they've fallen
and faded into death,
they know the spring is coming,
and they shall rise again.

And so their blossoms open
that cannot last the day,
their hope forever sowing
beyond the leaves that fade.

François Barraud: Nature morte de fleurs aux lys, 1934 – http://www.sikart.ch/ImgRenderer.aspx?id=6004010, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=10277705

In Their Time

Lord, they who trust you stand like heights,
unshaken in your strength,
but sorrow comes in with the night
and rivers burst their banks.

And when the mountains fall like tears,
how shall we stand our ground?
Amid the locust-eaten years
what harvest have we found?

The field, the grain, the wine, the oil,
you sent us in their time,
and blood and pain and sweat and toil
around your gifts were twined.

Now we reach up with empty hands
to an unfeeling sky:
O, send you blessing on the land!
we beg with throats gone dry.

Somewhere there is a table spread
by one who knows our need—
the goodness of the wine and bread—
where we will sit and feast.

And more than bread and more than wine
will fill these empty hands.
You send your good things in their time:
Send peace to us again.

By Floris van Dyck – 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=150586

Guide

Where is the one who divided the waters before them—

winning for himself an everlasting renown—

Who guided them through the depths,

like horses in open country?

As cattle going down into the valley,

they did not stumble.
—Isaiah 63:12-14

You led your people through the waves,
your children through the depths
like horses on the open plain
who run for joy itself.
Then lead me as your led the herd—
oh, let me stumble not!—
by light and dark, by breath and word,
through death to life, O God!

And when you lead me through the depths
and chasms of my fear,
not only lead but draw my steps
and walk forever near,
that in the night of my abyss
I shall not want for light,
but as in all things so in this,
I find you still my guide.

So if I cannot see the way,
your mercy's flame still burns.
Though I am dark, yet there is day,
and always it returns.
I trust these dark and fearsome deeps 
are open to your sight,
then if you will my journey keep,
I'll run on through the night.

Wild Horses on the Range By Bureau of Land Management – http://www.wildhorseandburro.blm.gov/photo_gallery/photo81.htm, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=4746172

The Foolish Virgin’s Song

At midnight, there was a cry,
‘Behold, the bridegroom! Come out to meet him!’
Then all those virgins got up and trimmed their lamps.
The foolish ones said to the wise,
‘Give us some of your oil,
for our lamps are going out.’
Matthew 25:1-13

O God of day and God of night,
when Christ the bridegroom comes for me,
and if my lamp no more burns bright,
by your good grace then may it be,
O God of dark and God of light,
that he my shine a light for me.

For when these moments all uncoil,
no light will shine from my poor dust.
If ever I had any oil,
it flowed from him as he was crushed—
not by my strength, not by my toil,
but only his outpouring love.

So there must be, by your good grace,
a fountain that is flowing still,
whose drops anoint each human face
that waits upon the bridegroom's will,
where mercy ever flows in spate.
The bridegroom's love my flask must fill.

The waiting seems forever long,
O God of day and God of night,
and though the hours stretch on and on
while we await the bridegroom's light,
may we yet meet him when he comes
with lanterns he keeps burning bright.

Francken, Hieronymus the Younger – Parable of the Wise and Foolish Virgins – c. 1616 By Hieronymous Francken II – Web Gallery of Art: Image Info about artwork, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=6860120

Allwheres

It is the LORD who goes before you; he will be with you and will never fail you or forsake you. So do not fear or be dismayed.
Deuteronomy 31:8

Through all the days that lie ahead
and all the nights when dawn's unsure,
along the ways laid for your steps,
remember that he walks with you.

Though cliffs rise up on every side
and mountains tumble to the sea,
yet go, for still your guard and guide
is with you, when all others flee.

With every step that you may take,
his heavens on their axis spin;
encircling you, asleep, awake,
without beginning, without end.

Awake, asleep, astray, at home:
it is his road before your feet,
and you will not step out alone.
At every turn, it's him you meet.

So go, and even when you fear,
you still are somewhere in his palm,
and every step, away or near,
allwheres you go, to him you come.

A paved Roman road in Pompeii By Paul Vlaar – http://www.neep.net/photo/italy/show.php?3390, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=173413

I Shall Not Fear

Based on Psalm 46, to the tune FINLANDIA:

I shall not fear, though all the earth is shaken,
though mountains fall and seas in tempest rise,
though I am struck, the heart within me quaking,
and I will fall as strength within me dies.
In me there flows, while all my walls are breaking,
a living stream whose source will ne'er run dry.

Then I will trust the spring that rises in me,
though nations fall and kingdoms topple down.
And I will drink and let the waters fill me
with saving hope when deep despair abounds.
God is my rock, from him these waters streaming
are all my life, where only death was found.

Let mountains fall, and let my heart be shaken:
The waters flow, and deserts they will fill.
The sword is bent; the bow at last is breaking:
All wars must end and fade as all things will.
Yet God is here, unmoved when I am quaking;
I cling to him who bids my soul, “Be still.”

A natural spring on Mackinac Island in Michigan By DaemonDivinus, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=982411

Empty

I hear the promise whisper
and echo through the days;
it beckons from a distance
down all your winding ways.
You call me, but I linger
and stop to look behind:
What if the jar goes empty?
What if the jug runs dry?

Beyond all reassurance,
beyond the bounds of hope,
your whisper calls me further 
and urges me to go
where there is no more plenty,
no solid ground to find,
where every jar goes empty
and every jug runs dry.

Oh, give me then the courage
to go on all unsure,
to catch the Spirit blowing
and let the sails unfurl,
to find when I am empty
and when my heart is dry,
that you are yet unfailing
and mercy still is kind.