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…from glory to glory

Archive for the category “Poetic Outbursts”

Spring’s Rising!

Blessed are your eyes, for they see.

–Matthew 13.16

Early Spring2

“Bring forth,” He said,

     to all the waiting branches of the trees,

Their lacey crown’ed silhouettes under bluing skies

     of th’ earliest winds of spring;

To every slumb’ring tendril of the shrub along

     the path, ev’ry bush a resting place for feathered

     prophets bearing promise on their wing.

“’Tis the hour,” He said, “to wake and bear your

     young!

Fear not the last remaining lash of winter’s breath!

Heed not the darkness

     which now sees its timely hast’ning death!

Look up to see the ever lightening, brightening,

     dazzling blues of days,

Waking early from the passing nights of starlit

     indigo, adorned in myriad twinkling blaze!

There’s a message to be spoken to mankind

Whose eyes have dimmed with all their futile

     notions, fabrications of their busy, frantic

     musings in all their fantasies, striving in their

     vanities,

Conceiving an illusion, pretending life immortal

     from their factories of the dead.”

 

“We will,” they answered. “Thy will,” they said.

And all the wood from tallest, robust trees

     whose trunk so stout could feel in every woody

     bone the memory of pain and grace in mankind’s

     greatest story,

To smallest bushy bush of delicate twig and branch:

They all began their laboring to please the King

Who made them for His glory.

 

And every man whose eyes would see could now

     behold,

In ev’ry lacey crown’ed top of tree

     ‘neath cathedral blue of skies,

And ev’ry fring’ed, tasseled shrub and bush

     of earthy ground on which it lies:

On every inch of outstretched arm and limb of every

     one, came forth those orbs of blood-red bud.

These bloody little bodies speaking of

     Redemption’s glory

When once blood poured upon a tree which bore

     the pain and grace in mankind’s greatest story;

And not only His bloodied body did that tree once bear,

but all the weight of rebellious man

who mutinied against their King among the trees

‘Neath cathedral blue of skies in a Garden

     from of old.

And cast away their sight of all the goodness

     they had known,

Their minds now captive, pris’ners trapped in

     darkened musings,

Endless, futile fabrications of their own;

     and by their quest to wield the sovereign sceptre

     of the One in whom their life and breath reside

They brought upon the whole of all creation,

In all its living beauty, the judgment of the dead.

 

Here, then, now in tide of spring, is the message

     to be spoken

To mankind whose eyes have dimmed with all their

     futile notions, fabrications of their busy frantic

     musings,

As on each branch and bushy twig those bloody orbs

     break open, beneath the vaulted ceiling

     of the lightening, brightening, dazzling blue

     of skies of spring, new and verdant life bursts

     forth from blood-red bodies broken–

Life not fashioned from the daydreams of man’s vanity–

But created and designed

     by the True and Living One, after winter’s frozen

     sleep of death is now left far behind.

And every man whose eyes would see

     can now behold,

In ev’ry lacey crown’ed top of tree

     ‘neath cathedral blue of skies,

     and ev’ry fring’ed, tasseled shrub

     and bush of earthy ground on which it lies,

On every inch of outstretched arm

     and limb of every one:

A splendorous array of neo-natal green,

     brilliant pink and yellow dazzeling,

     stunning beauty spoken into life at His command

     for all whose eyes are blest to see in spring

The message of Redemption’s glory

When once blood poured upon a tree which bore

     the pain and grace in mankind’s greatest story.

 

Truth it is! No legend, no vain and futile fable

     of some hope pretending life immortal;

Nay! Creation which man’s vain rebellion

     brought to suffer death,

Now in spring declares the truth:

     the sovereign sceptre of the God

In whom reside all life and breath;

And His Son the Holy One, the Righteous One,

     named Jesus

Whose beaten, bloodied body once upon

     a fallen tree was nailed,

And having suffered all the judgment due

     rebellious, wicked man,

With arms outstretched in God’s great plan,

     yielded up His soul to death.

In Passover’s third cool morn of spring,

     beneath the vaulted ceiling

     of the lightening, brightening, dazzling blue

     of skies

Creation’s Lord came forth in glory as He said,

Triumphant from the grave wherein He laid

     among the dead,

Under lacey crown’ed tops of trees, embraced by

     ev’ry fring’ed, tasseled shrub and bush

     of earthy ground on which it lies:

For all whose eyes are blest to see The One

     in whom all life and breath reside,

Jesus, the risen, reigning, ever-living King!

Now Christ is risen from the dead, and has become the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep. For since by man came death, by Man also came the resurrection of the dead. For as in Adam all die, even so in Christ all shall be made alive. 

–1 Corinthians 15.20-22

 

Graphics courtesy The Printshop 4.0 Professional, by permission, user license; copyright Patricia Stachew, 2019, all rights reserved.  

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AUTUMN’S DESIRE

autumndesirecover-page2

“Be still,” He said, whispering gently to the expectant wood,

The Mighty, Holy Author of all light,

“Cease your leafy labors bearing food.

Let the quiet chill of autumn’s night woo your brilliant beauty to a head.

Delight Me as I fashioned you of old,

Your golden, crimson plumage to behold.”

 

They heard His holy whispers lilting like a hymn, all the verdant leafy columns of the wood,

And yielded, as all nature will attest,

To the Voice of Him whom they understood,

The Master of their seasons of industry and rest,

And surrendered every one, each leaf and limb, to the lullaby of Him who planned of old

That autumn’s light be wreathed in radiant gold.

 

Rejoicing as their foliage flamed in glorious hue, and wond’ring at mankind’s ceaseless, frenzied pace,

They to their Master lifted up their cry,

“Would that men could see You face to face,

And would upon Your Sovereign Will rely,

As they were fashioned to delight all ways in You,  and hear Your call to rest as they behold

The splendor of Your handiwork in autumn’s radiant gold.”

 

“Some men will,” He answered as they cried, “behold My face and love My sov’reign plan as do you,

In your obedience to My voice and My design.

You’ve been created by and for My Son who foreknew

Each frantic, sin-sick soul who sees your golden shine,

And hears My Spirit’s witness that for each He died, upon a tree bearing countless sorrows and untold.

For these His crimson poured, in season, op’ning Heaven’s gold.”

 ©Patricia Stachew, November 2004

A PSALM FOR A NEW CENTURY…

I wonder how many of our readers remember the turn of the century from the 20th Century to the 21st Century. I remember the tidal wave of Y2K worries and fears which swept over this earth. They seem rather insignificant now, in light of the greater fears and worries which have swelled across this world wide neighborhood in the preceding decade of this century; and we are now well into the next decade with greater knowledge of many things, and multitudes more of questions and unknowns looming ahead…

Rarely am I ever given the enviable gift of poetic expression,  but what I will share with everyone today is my heart answer to all that might shake and unsettle and inflame and threaten us in the days and years ahead. This flooded my heart as I was pondering the threshold of the year 2000. As I read it again from time to time, I realize how very relevant my modern day psalm is to all that I have since seen rising around us.

May this gift which the Spirit of God poured out on me bless you and encourage you all the days of this year and after…

Millenium King: A Psalm for the Century

Patricia Stachew, 2000 A.D.

In the Shadow of His Wing,

While all the spectres, terrors of the world

With their threats and warnings

Of agony, rage and pain are,

Subject to His Sovereignty, unfurled;

We hold no bitter rage, nor dread,

While amid the fears and tremors

Of this planet’s fallen soil we tread.

Tossed in trials, we stand safe, unmoved;

Afflicted, yet healed

By the everpresent Balm outpoured;

His Perfect Faithful Love for us is proved,

The warfare won by One Yeshua, Saving Lord.

Our eyes once blind, now beholding,

His birth and saving blood revealed,

With unearthly joy,

We, though dying, live and sing.

While on this earth, we trust and walk

In tender mercies yet abounding;

Quickened with His spoken Word,

The Written Record of His vows fulfilled; so great

A cloud of witnesses surrounding.

Now, onward through this latter age,

Lives transformed as heirs of His Estate,

While strength and breath remain,

Unshackled from the bonds of futility and rage,

Unchained by Hedonistic pleasures proven vain,

His Love compels us speak of joyful tidings we have heard;

And of Victory in the Battle

He has waged,

Gently, boldly talk.

Earth

There is no woeful portent of impending doom,

Nor promised global peace and wealth foretold

Which ever have escaped His perfect sight,

Eclipsed His everlasting glory,

Or loosed their power from His omni-potent hold.

This truth have we, solid, faithful, constant;

No fable of contrivance, nor old wives’ story,

Amid the ebbing, flowing tides of circumstance,

Capped with misty apparitions of the coming night,

And laced with glittering world-spun webs

Conceived for numbing bitter,

Hopeless gloom.

Now, with joy, we live to tell–

With neither bitter rage, nor dread–

While amid the fears and tremors

Of this planet’s fallen soil we tread:

The Kingdom we are here to spread,

To increase and multiply

Is that of Him Who reigns:

His Name Immanuel!

ChristTheKing3

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