Thursday, January 18, 2007

Meditation on Daniel 5:1-31 

O see, an unseen hand now writes
Upon life's trembling wall,
Carving letters made of light
To read, for one and all.
Counted, counted, weighed, divided --
The words He writes in warning.
O will you watch them fade away,
Forget ere comes the morning?

The writing is upon the wall,
Counted, weighed, divided --
O will the hand bring you to tears,
When you find out what's decided?
The book of life is in His hands,
Your actions tallied, all
O will you turn and walk away
Or listen to the call?

Counted counted are the cries
That rise to Heaven's door,
Mothers weeping in the night,
Their hearts a-breaking sore,
Hungry children, broken souls,
Forgotten, left to die,
God hears the pain that we let slide,
and marks down every sigh.

Weighed each answer to His call,
weighed each turn away.
Weighed each time we answer yes,
Weighed each quiet nay,
The answers written in His book,
the count made very sure --
The motives noted for each act,
greed or lust, or pure.

The day will come with trembling knees,
when we stand there at his call,
He will look within his book
to judge us one and all.
Each sheep and goat will take their place,
Each stand to left and right,
O will you name be in the place
of darkness or of light?

The writing comes as no surprise,
The Word gives out its warning.
No hidden scripts to puzzle out,
The truth as clear as morning.
Two thousand years God's made it clear,
Two thousand years and more.
O let His words work in your heart,
O open up the door!

Susan E. Stone, 2007

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Monday, January 01, 2007

Lacrimosa Dies Alla 

Domine, exaudi orationem meam.

Hear our prayer, O Lord,
And let our cry come unto thee.

The day of tears,
the day of ashes,
the day trembling seizes us,
clamor meus ad te veniat.
the hand of Cain upon his brother
Memorare, O pie Jesu, Domine,
Clamouring in a wailing of tears,
and blood and pain,
anger and angst,
pain,
the cry of despair,
how our cry comes to thee,
Lacrimosa die alla,
every day,
the day of tears,
ashes,
ex favilla,
dust,
at our hand,
the all too willing tool of darkness.

Miserare nobis.

Susan E. Stone, 2007

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Saturday, March 04, 2006

Remember Man 

(Tune)
http://www.contemplator.com/midimusic/maidwho.mid

Remember man, that thou are dust,
to dust you shall return
When God shall call your spirit home
to soar with him or burn.
He has told you what is good O man,
what matters most of all --
So choose you wisely while you may
To walk with him or fall.

Some do think when they are young
That what they want is right.
Power, love, or frenzied games,
While they are young and bright.
But like the flowers of the field
That bloom so bright in May
The time will come as days run by
That brightness fades away.

When darkness comes crashing down
and lovers lose their charms,
And power leaves a bitter taste,
Hope crumble in your arms,
O what will fill the aching gap
That burns within your soul?
What can fill your emptiness
And make your spirit whole?

Remember Man, that thou art dust,
But Jesus wore that dust too,
To open wide the doors of grace,
Healing, cleansing and true.
If you listen to his voice,
and follow where he leads you,
Living waters there will quench your thirst
And the Bread of life will feed you.

Listen, Man, he calls you now
To make your wounded life whole.
To heal the pain in your aching heart,
To fill that gap in your soul.
He calls to you with gentle voice
Gives light to show you the way,
Love divine from Heaven's door
To fill your heart today.

(Tune)
http://www.contemplator.com/midimusic/maidwho.mid

Susan E. Stone, 2006

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Tuesday, December 27, 2005

Setting Sun 

In this moment between moments, when I see what I have done
In this pausing, as if to catch my breath, while I watch the setting sun,
A lacuna in the quiet,as my race in nearly run
Some things I leave with sad regret, for others there is none.

Pain and sorrow, loss and gain, the human road goes on,
More good I hope I leave behind than pain when I am gone,
A word or two I've woven well, a dream of golden dawn
God's hand upon the lost and lone when hope feels all withdrawn.

Soon shall this race be finished and my road will cease to climb
And then I'll wake in that fair morn that is not bound by time,
And the words that I have gathered will grow there more sublime
Where my clumsy tongue, unbounded, will find a truer rhyme.

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