Category: Poetry

In Legends told the stories grow
Of noble causes marked by poppy rows
These give us status; and with each lie
The policy for which men laid down to die
Disappears amidst the hallow glow
Of Bard tales spun to gloriously show
The rightness of wars fought long ago
So that Memorial doth the truth belie
In Legends told

So, I take up the quarrel with the foe
Who would sanctify unholy rows
By conflating brave men who die
With wicked policies from on high
For such support of those who’ve lied
Only insures that more sons will die
And become part of Legends told

Recently the Church I serve has taken to making its own bulletin after years of buying the bulletin covers from some company. One thing that I did not like about the old bulletins is that they often had poetry on the back that had really bad theology in the poetry. Plus, I was noticing that often people in the Church would cut out the poetry from the bulletin and stick it on their refrigerators. So, on the bulletins we are now making ourselves I am putting my own poetry. I don’t suggest that the quality of my poetry is any better than the quality of the poetry that was on the pre-bought bulletins but I am hopeful that the theology is better.

Heidelberg Catechism

Question 103

What doth God require in the fourth commandment?

Answer. First, that the ministry of the gospel and the schools be maintained; and that I, especially on the sabbath, that is, on the day of rest, diligently frequent the church of God, to hear his word, to use the sacraments, publicly to call upon the Lord, and contribute to the relief of the poor, as becomes a christian. Secondly, that all the days of my life I cease from my evil works, and yield myself to the Lord, to work by his Holy Spirit in me: and thus begin in this life the eternal sabbath.

O Glorious day of festive rest
In all the week the day that’s best
Day of Fellowship with God’s Clan
Day to hear God’s grace to man

Day to taste the wine and grain
Forgiveness swallowed, life proclaimed
God’s people join their voice to pray
And bring their alms on this Holy Day

The Lord’s day has a tale to spin
That I’ve given up my practiced sin
And by the Spirit I am blessed
To work the work that reveals I rest

The day of wrath, that dreadful day,
when God did have his final say,
His justice and mercy each had their way,

The wrath of man did but reflect
The wrath of God in this respect
Forsaken, abandoned — Divine neglect

What horror did then invade the mind
Of He who came His sheep to find
And who paid the debt, for His kind?

But no unwilling victim, this sacrifice
He staged the players as His device
To orchestrate His redemption price

Judas’ sordid kiss of treachery
The disregard of Pilate’s plea
The vision of Mary at His knee

Yearly we call this Friday “good,”
And mark His hanging on the wood
And are nourished with Him as our food

Divine jurisprudence satisfied
His death, the death that His people died
We are the blood flowing from His side

His work still doth intercede
For our access He still doth plead
And for our comfort He remains our need

Impervious to alien guilt and guile
Thrown at us by the Serpent’s wile
Animated only by forgiveness’s smile

Now, at the word of His command
We call for all to meet His demand
Be reconciled, that ye may in judgment stand

The day of wrath, that dreadful day,
when God did have his final say,
His justice and mercy each had their way,