He made his ministers as a flame of fire
To tell night-watch shepherds His yearning desire
Halo’s of glory, shone them round about
Of heavens sent Son they doth did shout.
Sore afraid those shepherds were
When the attention of such they did incur
When flames speak, all ought pay heed
Especially of him who would intercede
Not to fear for tidings of joy are brought
Herald, herald it shall soon be taught
The Son, A captain, a King is born
He shall reign after his body is torn
He wraps himself in the flesh of man
To undo what the devils heart began
You shall see him, shall see him soon
Swaddled and wrapped under a mothers croon
To God in the highest be all the glory
Gabriel was granted the start of the story
The highest would overshadow this Mary
And grant the messiah to her to carry
Humbled he was after this fashion of man
It was not robbery, but rather was planned
It was Him who spoke us all into life
But we soon fell into disobedient strife
To us, through Him, would come endless redemption
The end of the Devil’s accusing derision
A heel would be bruised, but not as bad as a head
For this child would one day…rise from the dead.
Oh our Father, which art above
May your will be done here as it is your rest
When angels are granted insight from thee
And transfer they do thy message so bless’t
It is not from the depths of the grave
Underneath deaths deep black wave
Nor is it from Golgotha’s bleak skull hill
Where the Lord our King directs his Father’s will
Neither between ancient olive trees
Where he does dispense the Spirits breeze
It is not with sweat, blood and why’s
Knees wet, knees bent, with agonizing cries…
It is not from the temple mount
Whip in hand with his furious shouts
Tables turned, he drew a very thick line
Where He challenged religions thieving paradigm
Nor is it from the churning ocean
Where a disciple expressed such shocking devotion
Where the storm did rage and shook his faith
As eyes turned down to an ebon aqueous fate
His voice does no longer on Tiberius resound
Where waylaid sheep once lost were soon found
Where the same man who had sunk before
Now plunged in and made for the shore
Having halted the hands of a tax taking man
He called him surely and asserted His plans
What greater glory and what greater grace
Those hands would later record what took place
He was buried down deep in the dark of the earth
After the death he died to display all God’s worth
Taking the wrath of His Father Jehovah
A lamb beneath the righteous super-nova
Rather He reigns from the place that is best
Where he resides is within His deserved rest
Having won and having crushed, the power of sin and death
He bequeaths to us His Holy Spirit breath
Now he can make the earth His footstool
To deny Him his due, is to be a ripe fool
A branch dead shriveled plucked as a brand
To be cast into the fire, by His very hand.
We don’t have a King whom hasn’t been tempted
By this we know that we are not exempted
To labor for that which you might have guessed
Labor therefore to enter His rest…
A foundation built
On nothing less
Than prison praise
And its inhabitance
Adoration rose from out the doors
Dry earth shook and cracked flat floor
Dust soon settled and lighted upon
A man with a sword and a life foregone
“Oh blade oh blade Oh blade of mine
Split this heart and spill its wine
Tell your tale when I am done
To the wind…toothy Jackals…and noon-day sun!”
Panic supplanting slumber
He spied prison blocks
Yawning black caverns
And assumed vacant stocks
A fate near fatal
A life of Oh-Well
Like sinkhole swimming
Through the liquid crush of hell
“Do no harm, for we are all here.”
All was upended, and light banished fear
The seism from before could hardly compare
To a man now quaking from dispelled despair
“What must I do, to be so saved?”
The agony of a soul that knows it’s depraved.
The Spirit of conviction
Flowed out of prison convicts…
“Oh blade oh blade Oh blade of Thine
Discerned this heart and cut its line
Ill tell your tale when you are done
By your Wind…to the dead…of the grace-bent One.”
Grace, grace His power displaced
Hate and indifference for God took his place
Where he once was…A Philippian jailor
He now is, an Apostle’s wound tailor.
My heart a grove of trees so tall
So tightly packed in concentric rings
I long them felled each one and all
Fly thine axe with silver wings
Pine of pride, Ponderosa of pity
Pity me O’ Pity me…
Sawtooth Oak your acorns spread
A canopy of earthbound salient dread
Agile and quick thou art when I
Forget His axe and plead thee die…
The handle hewn from Cross-Tree heart
Hard as ages and agile in hands
Whom never time touched yet I pierced through
You have an axe whilst I held a hammer
Hew them down I plead thee my banner
Fell them, fell them, into the ponds
Of water released after piercing thee in thy bonds
Trunks and branches so knotty and old
Gnarled and twisted, linked and enthroned
Elbows embraced in moss bearded bone
The hatchet head sharpened from words in thy book
Hardened and smelted thy shape it took
Fashioned through love and weighted with grace
Bound to the haft with Yahweh’s embrace
The hand which wrote on Bab-el’s walls
Mightier than the mightiest kings halls
Grip thine handle with all thy strength
I invite the accelerating arc of thy sovereign arms length
Hew them down, Hew them down
Till miasmic leaves blanket this earthen floor
From which I shall behold thy cities pearly doors…
This forest O Father is kindling to thee
Scattered among the dirt and the scree
Fallen like lost sons of ancient Anak
Through whom ran Caleb and Joshua’s attack
They seemed so mighty and loomed so strong
But thou makest giants lie where they belong
By thy redemptive grace I now implore
With head rested on Beth-El’s rocky pillow core
All around fallen timber this timber is yours
Thy path now lies straight through what once was detour
The corner stone upon thee now, I rest my head and look ‘round
Pillars erect thee upon this foundation (was once a seed from humble a nation.)
Build me with thy house of promise
Work and fashion for good I plead
Though doubt looms after the fashion of Thomas
Knit together I will be, fashioned for loves urgent need.
Now part of a tabernacle so large,
A Jerusalem of stone thy own reward.
This wooden heart thou regenerate,
As the Fathers required wrath,
Upon Salem’s hills, the Son did abate!
He made his ministers as a flame of fire
To tell night-watch shepherds His yearning desire
Halo’s of glory, shone them round about
Of heavens sent Son they doth did shout.
Sore afraid those shepherds were
When the attention of such they did incur
When flames speak, all ought pay heed
Especially of him who would intercede
Not to fear for tidings of joy are brought
Herald, herald it shall soon be taught
The Son, A captain, a King is born
He shall reign after his body is torn
He wraps himself in the flesh of man
To undo what the devils heart began
You shall see him, shall see him soon
Swaddled and wrapped under a mothers croon
To God in the highest be all the glory
Gabriel was granted the start of the story
The highest would overshadow this Mary
And grant the messiah to her to carry
Humbled he was after this fashion of man
It was not robbery, but rather was planned
It was Him who spoke us all into life
But we soon fell into disobedient strife
To us, through Him, would come endless redemption
The end of the Devil’s accusing derision
A heel would be bruised, but not as bad as a head
For this child would one day…rise from the dead.
Oh our Father, which art above
May your will be done here as it is your rest
When angels are granted insight from thee
And transfer they do thy message so bless’t
