|
To Caroline
It will not live what does not die; Only the fallen seed will rise; The withered grass and fading flower Know well enough the final hour; And we, My Love, not fallen seed But fallen man and wife, have need Beyond mere food and breath, for dust We are and dust again we must Become one day, and so I say Do not despise the flower's way; For there within its dying gloom It plants a garden in a tomb Of earth, and so by fading fast Gives way to beauty that will last And grow, like knowledge of the LORD Within the world–a love outpoured By Him who faced a final hour And made His life a fading flower. And so I give these flowers cut– What God may bring, I know not what, For us before our final fall; But this I know, I will with all My fading strength and strengthened love (Made stronger in the Light above) Hold on to you until we lie Like seeds in soil, seeds that die, So light can call them to the sky.
0 Comments
My flesh but dust, my bed of tears,
Torn open by some thirty years And five of memories that meet Their end and add no more. For life is met with this defeat: A death, with flesh in fast retreat Into the ground, to be the dust From which it came once more. And as a son, I know I must In grief of death, the Father trust Until my dust its dying nears And tears are nevermore. We buried Dad a month ago;
The month was long, the grief is slow: A briar-patch in thorny soil, Producing life with mortal coil Around its stem, a pain that chokes My life to death and which provokes A cry within my shadowed night-- That God would set the world aright And take my thorns from side and ground And fashion them in royal crown, Put death to death, to bear this curse; That He would make this month reverse, And I would hear it said of Dad, "He lives, he lives, he is not dead." It was cold tonight when I visited his grave
And spoke as if he could hear my words Wavering on the winds of visible breath Gone skyward, rising past my downcast face; I spoke as usual, not knowing any other way, Not absent-minded of his absence, his presence With the Lord and not with me, but still I spoke into the night, by faith and not By sight, and likewise walked back to the car With hope that one day I would rush like Mary To the tomb and hear the words: "He is not here." How long, O Lord, will You forget Your servant, hide Your face from me? How long this anxious heart persist Until Your hand delivers me? How long with dominating foe Must I be left in agony? Look now to me, O Lord, my God, And shine the light of life, a beam Of brightness in my eye that I Might live, of Your salvation sing; Come silence all my enemies And foil all the evil scheme. How long, O Lord, will You forget Your child, hide Your face from me? How long until You come with love That deals with me so bountifully? Let me rejoice with heart and voice That rises to eternity. Based on Psalm 13
Come hear my voice, O God, in my complaint; And guard my life from dreaded enemies, To hide me from the schemes of evil men, From all the tumult of iniquities, From those whose sharpened tongue, a slashing sword, Sends bitter speech, an arrow strung and aimed To take my life, to shoot the blameless; they Have no regard for fearing God, but strained In secrecy to set a snare for me, And think that they can get away with sin; But You will shoot them with an arrow straight And wound and pierce them through; they curse again Themselves–not me or You–caught in the snare They set; and showing folly of their aim, They make all shake their heads in right reproach And turn to You from every lesser name, Considering the deeds of Your right hand, The mighty works through ages You have wrought, The righteous to preserve in refuge glad But all Your enemies to bring to naught. Based on Psalm 64
Oh, the joy of the trial--
Not the fact of nor the while-- Is the forging by the fire Of a faith that will not tire, Of a life with dross removed, By the trial tested, proved. My Savior and Judge, to you I commit
My spirit, my life, the judgment I fear-- To you, who the righteous by faith will acquit; To you, who the guilty by no means will clear. Come quickly in judgment, give ear to my plea: Yes, mercy for thousands, but mercy for me. Free us, O Lord, from all trials looming
Over our lives and, like cloudier day, Blocking the light that seeks to illumine By casting a shadow, obscuring the way. Save us, O Lord, from darkness foreboding, Impending, depressing; and dimming the eye, Straining by faith to see what is written In Script of cloudier ink from the Sky. Consider me in my affliction;
Come, my troubled heart relieve; Do not tarry, nor be absent, From my anguish give reprieve; Consider all the sorrow swelling; From the depths of woe, receive My voice of lamentation raised; Turn a gracious ear to me; Consider all the trials pressing ‘Round, my wearied heart to grieve; Come, O Lord, the promised Savior, Let me to your promise cleave; Come, afflicted, gentle Savior, Lowly, come abide with me. |
writer
Michael Price - I am a husband, father, poet, and science teacher at a classical Christian school in Memphis, TN. I have three volumes of poetry. 
New book available now!
Dissent with Modification: Poems Against COVIDism, Darwinism, and Wokeism 
Archives
February 2024
Categories |
RSS Feed