From canals dry,
a wind stirs.
Dirt and dust
Breath and bone.
In Eastern stars,
a voice is heard.
To you who in mercy revel;
who cloak your sin in thankfulness;
who take the Word, for truth,
yet wither beside still waters;
with grace, your license, you proceed
to justified depravity.
Hear! O Man, a voice is shouting ---
a clarion call throughout the land.
Hear! O Man.
Return! Return!
On gentle breeze the sickles call
our abject hearts to draw.
Too long removed from poverty
to see our poor estate.
On wings and wheels
are our sorrows borne,
lest we yet before Him fall.
Incline our hearts to entreaties bold
from those who would dismiss,
return again to paths of old,
of childish wit,
of obedience.
We leave to cleave and are justified
yet idle hands leave fields untilled.
Safe, we rest and eat our fill
of a dead man’s rotten harvest.
Martin’s ire upon us is laid
if we forsake the law of love
to cheapen Holy forebearance.
The canyons call.
The rocks resound.
Shall we be in our comfort silent?
Hear the sound of falling water
and know the river flows.
Hear the sound of One like thunder
and know the Righteous calls
to those his love has borne.
We hear! We hear
but tarry still
our whoreish hearts between two lovers torn:
safety and compassion.
What the Lord has bound
let none separate
for lust;
for wealth;
for opportunity.
Cursed is he who draws
a heart
from its first love.
Relent!
Relent!
the prophet cries
through history and foreign sands,
return to the furnace
from which silver flows;
to your mother’s milk,
though it nourish
and offend.
Let the striving arms slacken.
Give up your dreams of self.
Not for you, alone
was precious blood bestowed,
to live a life of ease.
The hardest words are seldom heard
amidst the harlot’s subtle invitations;
amidst the friendly cries of: “Rest,
you’ve given enough already.”
The hardest words are seldom heard
in the cycle of depravity.
Hear the sonorous tremor of night---
that whisper,
resonating still;
calling you ever,
His children, home
to die again, again.
Let fall our “spiritual” gains;
the costumed filth
of selfish lives
and take up our cross
on Roman roads.
Return again
to love, to love
wedded with obedience.
No comments:
Post a Comment