Second Crop Sometimes When Soil Is Right and Son Stays Longer
C. Doug Blair, 2014 Waterloo, ON
A-Courting I come a-courting Once again Within your hallowed halls But this time Not with pressing needs Nor puzzlement, nor falls. I only come to Think on you And all your mercy shown To one so frail And faltering But still your child, your own. And all around Your handiwork In nature's shapes and hues The big and small You made them all
Your breath of life infused. These halls are still They offer rest And insights rich, divine And in this peace The sure release That such a God is mine. My Little Ones These little ones Have known my name They're oh so quick to call At point of need When darkness comes When threatened with a fall. Not big on self Supremely poor In spirit, they confess. And that's their strength They run to me That all my power might bless. And many tried the bluster And posed the fashion's way And earned and learned Things over-turned Before the end of day. So now they give me one eye And never stray too long Their only care That I am there. My help, their trust and song. Into the Depths The story is a long one The wrong turns and the doubt The trouble taken willingly I'll never figure out.
The friends who all proved fickle The wasted days and nights The blurry end of benders The foul-ups and the fights. But this was what I wanted Or so it seemed for years As I sank lower in the muck And tried to hide my tears. Could something now be different? That preacher on the street Who said the Lord was there for me Forgiveness oh so sweet. I knew this was the answer A Word inside of me 'To pitch my pack of problems Into the deepest sea. And there sweet God forgets them'. It's what the prophet said. And I the stunned believer Found new life from the dead. Micah 7: 19 Jeremiah 31: 34 Traverse It Traverse it Like the well-worn lane For the tractor To the south acreage Like the fence For jumping Into the favourite woodlot Like the path through the dunes To that special beach Long summers ago Like the last three blocks To Mom's house Where the smile and wisdom
Always wait. Traverse it Like the words so specially composed On the night you asked her Like the gleam in her eye As she held that first child Newborn Like the little girl's Sweet voice of song Standing front and centre At the recital Like the flyway of the boy's First hit over the fence At the schoolyard diamond Like those special words of comfort Pronounced from the heart As one boyhood friend Was laid to rest. Can you traverse it? Just so? What did Jesus establish in Matthew five How did He serve in John thirteen What story told in Luke ten What prayers uttered in John seventeen What standard set in First Corinthians the thirteenth What hope presented in the fifteenth What tough test in Hebrews the twelfth? What shining image in the nineteenth Of the Revelation? This is your road map I have established it Not Pastor with the flashy Projected overhead Not wordy teacher With her seven DVD offer On the television. I, even I, have put this map In your very own hands With specialties For your very own heart. Traverse it Take it to your inmost sanctum
And memory. Treasure it. Keep plumbing its depths. Be ye not conformed to this world But be ye transformed By the renewing of your mind That you might prove What is good and acceptable And perfect in my will. To yourself And to others With the need to listen. This commandment you have heard From my mouth. Never stale. Ever compelling And current. Measuring I come behind in no spiritual gift Not a one. Signs and wonders occur As I share the Word. Stubborn hearts soften And Jesus gains new siblings. I am constrained to do these things. By Love, and not of my origin. But the gainsayers are suspicious They allege I have no diplomas on the wall. (Heavens, I have no wall.) I do not hold my breath for their approval. Their measure is evil. Competitive and fleshly. I battle against it Like some plague. Until the Spirit within laughs And liberates. He nudges, saying “How can you boast in a gift?
Wasn't earned or learned, Son. Be thankful. Period. And occupy. You wrote, yourself, that the dispensation Is all of my choosing. The Body develops In harmony. If it will only listen And take the small roles Member by member.� Yes I hear you, Comforter And your irony. Better I boast in my infirmities The stretchings, the slander, The stoning, the shipwrecks The starvings and sleeplessness For sake of my Master. And His glorious grace. Yes, better I boast of such. And leave the swelled heads in a tizzy. (2 Corinthians chapters 10 and 11) Never Met Such a Judge The seat's for her Don't say different. And those little ones Right beside. Let your faces Show a welcome. Dump your postures Dump your pride. No she missed The teaching series. Coming new here Without shine. And she needs some care That's obvious.
But she's precious And she's mine. The collection Will scarce miss her But she gives much more You see. She is needy And she knows it And she's not ashamed of me. Much unlike The current fashion Where the name of Christ Is hid. Talk of marriages And finance And the way to tame that kid. And the suppers Pot-luck pretty And the baseball when it's hot. She is seeking out My City. And you trendy bunch Are NOT. So the lesson Sits among you And the litmus test is here. Come up forward Gracious daughter At my feet Where all is clear. Psalm 68: 5 – A father of the fatherless, and a judge of the widows, is God in his holy habitation. Holy Orders Why all this fuss? About living alone About getting intense About building a fence
In this Way? Listen to Us. There is Life in exchange And to Faith a wide range In simplicity shared Everyday. Can the Holiest stop When you get off your knees And explore the new trees Of the spring? When you laugh With a child Share an elder's wise smile Join a praising choir Simply to sing?H It is all of God's gift Always meant to be shared Market streets A cathedral of sorts. As you mix it up, Love Like the Love Three above. Just imagine the joyful reports! Note: Life is a sacrament. Commonplace expresses the holy. Bend your knees, but also rub shoulders one with another. There is a universal priesthood of believers. All Body parts are equal, excepting the Head Christ Jesus. Mouth Organ The porch now is cool And chores set aside And crickets move in for a chat. The moon o'er the lawn Awaits the pure tone Of reeds and my breath, fancy that. I give them a piece That must start out low Addressing the pain all around But upward its climb To regions sublime
Embracing the Mercy I found. This little band dear With notes oh so clear Responds to my cadence and kiss. And night friends all pause Emotion the cause Drawn out by a wee song like this. So artless each chord Resounds to my Lord There must be His love in the tune Each breath and each thought By His kindness bought With heavenly choirs coming soon. The Compassion I am as vulnerable As that Mother on the birthing table I feel every contracton Every convolution As you struggle to be What you were meant to be. For a while I harboured you In warm amniotic peace. But you must now Address the environmnt. And Child, it is cold And often difficult. The closer you come To breaking out The greater my pain Alongside. I push and I wait And I push As you progress Inexorably Toward that world Of harsh rhythms. You crown, you come And you cry.
So do I. And so will I At every new turn In the path. Such is the Compassion. Such is the Father Of Love. And I am never No never Going away. Redemption is easy to experience because it cost God everything, and if I am going to be regenerated it is going to cost me something. I have to give up my right to myself...The men who are up against things just now and who are determined to get at Reality at all costs, and will not accept a thing on the religious line unless that line states Reality – these are the men who are paying the price for the next generation. The reason we are here in the natural world is because our mothers struggled for our existence, and the more unhindered the birth pangs the stronger and healthier the child. A thing is worth just what it costs. (Oswald Chambers, Baffled to Fight Better: Examining the Book of Job, 1931) The Fifty-Third Still my words remain unchallenged Though you say you're waiting yet For my Servant with the rescue Touching down on Olivet. He's the One who knows all suffering Like the Jews in every land And He harkens to my orders With salvation well in hand. Yes He bought it by His breaking Has already come to be. And his blood and breath were poured out On that horrid Roman tree. And I put your guilt upon Him Like the scapegoat sent abroad. He has purchased all your pardon And new favour from your God.
And my words fit to the letter. Mercy come! Submitted Christ. He awaits with joy the Harvest Reconciled with His life's price. Sons of Abraham, may you follow In that honoured path of trust And receive my words with gladness And by faith, become the just. Galatians 3: 6-9 The Necessary Food It's just as good as food you know The settling that comes In doing right And saying right In workplace and in homes. The Father speaks a fitting Word And one is quick to hear And ways and means Begin to show To act His will so dear. Sometimes it's missed The gist of it So eager, yet off-base But Father shows And wisdom grows The more we seek His face. In tandem with the Lord of all Oh could it be so real? A certainty of victory To rescue and to heal. No thrill comes close No chore compares To fill the day with joy Than hearing His soft “Go ahead” And later, “That's my Boy!”
Psalm 37: 4 John 4: 34 Triune I never was alone you know I always had a team And Love the energizer for The things we do or dream And nothing was before I Am And not an earlier Cause And all creation felt our Hand And rallied its applause. The Son keeps holding All things sure. The Spirit broods new birth. And We the Three eternally Are lording over Earth. One gives. One given One gifting still. The Word and Breath of Life In one accord The solemn Lord Preparing Him a Wife. A Bride is what the Church shall be And spotless made and pure In unity just as We Three To evermore endure. Magdalene She comes at dawn No clear idea How to bless Battered remains
Of her Teacher. This was to be the day When death was bested. He had promised They had hardly heard. The stress of things gone wrong Very wrong Had clouded all thinking All hope. Mercy had been Made to appear Menacing Haughty robed ones Desperate for His blood. Even the crowd Had parroted, “His blood be on us And on our children�. Sun is coming up. Mourning dove On that branch Sets the tone. The stone is rolled away. Probably more pain And inside no seeming Disturbance Some gravesclothes neatly piled But where the Teacher's body? Outside He waits Suggestions of a Dawning smile. She had always been So eager for His clarity His comfort. Precious Mary. Now first witness exultant To the Son Rising.
The Promises The promises have raised us up And made us look ahead And blessed with holy fellowship And new life from the dead. They set apart a special folk Who know that God is real Who lean on what He says and does And not just how they feel. They've seen Him clear the path for peace When all seemed bent on strife And food and drink in desert drought As parched land burst with life. Such promises will stay the course And show us mercy's plan And honour, giving, gratitude To dignify each man. And One Man nobly leads the way And meets this life head on And triumphs through a Cross and Tomb 'Til Heaven is fully won. Reality And I awoke And saw a crowd of singers Loudly rehearsing The victories of their King. Crutches and prosthetics Discarded New skin formed over Past troubles Vision twenty-twenty And hearing right on key. The celebration embodying My journey's hope Of family and forgiveness
Of danger's dwindling snarl. The inner Spring given voice Now free from any reticence From past stumblings Shame or confusion. This was the real Behind the screen of struggle Inequity and clamour. This was Heaven. And Jesus arrived... It Shall Accomplish and It Shall Prosper Lord you have said I shall be the head And not the tail Great shall be the peace Of my children I shall be a well-watered tree Nothing shall wither I shall walk a highway of holiness Danger and evil shall flee. The mind of Christ is mine And I am inseparable from His love. But the years pass And the hurts come And the facts in my face Seem to laugh at the audacity Of your promises. And I grow old With the aches and pains. And my counsel is not Sought at the Gate. Far from it. Is this but a dream? Oh Child without end The sand in the glass Is but a trifle.
Look up and look back And know that the Good Book Records but a day or two In my estimation. Can you say that it Is not all in line as spoken? You have only just begun Child And you certainly have won Child. (Isaiah 55: 10-12)