God is like the ocean (and we are on a beach) -

the spirit of love in mystic motion as far as us to reach.

Calling every morning, calling one and all,

calling every evening with shorter waves and tall.


Beautiful and blue, graceful it is true;

come and see what does abound... come and hear the soothing sound...


Words of comfort, words of peace - entreating all our strife to cease;

that we ponder, that we care, that we have the room to spare,

for a faithful, faithful friend... whose perfect love can know no end.


Jesus is the ocean, Jesus is the friend.



But some of us won't go near and flee to hills in guilt or fear,

some of us dip our toes and turn again to familiar woes,

some of us do swim and splash about and play in him;

and few of us do drown (forgetting 'life' as we go down - seeking hence a different crown),

loaded with the gravity... of our heart for Calvary.


What will be below (and what will be our share) ?

How can a mortal know until he wind up there ?

Light our eyes can't see and sound our ears can't hear,

precious pearly jewels and a God we now revere ?



The ships yet trade and the sharks won't change,

but all of that did we exchange...

for the treasures of the deep: whence we dwell in restful sleep -

where the sun does not disturb nor any ruler place a curb,

on the joy that our king gives of whom we know... that HE LIVES !








The words of God are words of light, they penetrate my heart -

the power of God exhuming me: His life they do impart.


What can teach me how to suffer with a joyful song ?

What does document this life and never once is wrong ?

What can roll the stone away to free me of my murders ?

What can take the veil away and be my undergirders ?


Only the words of God.

Only the words of the living god.



The words of God are words of life, they vitalize my days -

the love of God revealed to me in autographic ways.


Who would leave a throne so high and come down to this place ?

Who would heave our cross and cry "Forgive them," with such grace ?

Who could scupper Pharisees and emperors of Rome ?

Who would suffer Calvary to offer me a home ?


Only the Word of God.

Only the Word of the loving god.



The words of God are words of love, they overcome my hate -

the truth of God affecting me when I appreciate...


His holiness.



For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son...


Only the words of God.

Only the words of THE true god.







Her diary is the key to knowing of her heart:

the way her eyes do see and influence her art,

the story she believed and the power that befriends it,

the meaning of her life as she 'comprehends' it.



Her diary has a lock to guard against intrusion

(no need to tell the world the whole of it's profusion:

the questions with the facts, the rumours with the answers,

the poisons and the cures, the tonics and the cancers).



She keeps it on the mantel since she gave up writing,

but reads it now and then to know what she is fighting -

the present or the past... what she cannot see,

like why she has it locked and where she leaves the key !








Put the Bible to the test:

labour - enter into rest !

Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Ruth;

what is wisdom, what is truth ?

What's the nature of our fun ?

What's the price of what we've done ?

Can we ever know for sure...

a cleansing fountain rich and pure ?


Sin enslaves us, makes us groan -

serves our heart to grace bemoan;

beats us up and keeps us guessing,

cheats us of our daily blessing.

Why the subtle cloak-and-dagger ?

Why is sin a gospel gagger ?

For our life or for our death...

is the purpose of the breath.



Can love touch a heart congealed ?

Ask for every thought revealed !

Matthew, Mark, Luke and John;

Christ was here but where's he gone ?

Where's the blessedness he brought ?

Rather, where's the faith he sought ?

Do we look for his return...

or his friendship do we spurn ?


Jesus prospers day and night

(an easy yoke, a burden light).

He is found through diligent seeking,

he is served by careful tweaking;

fret not over other business,

make him Lord and trust his kindness -

when you wake up in your bed...

just shake the dust off and be led..!








Newborn hands reach out to grip...

a father's pointed fingertip:

simple, gentle, simple, subtle -

mysterious the heart's rebuttal.


Harbouring a realm of guilt,

is the haunted house we've built:

curious, complex, curious; stark -

the life of an assassin's mark.



Formed in secret (not in silence),

the hidden reaches of our judge;

meant for service (not for violence),

what then spawns the rending grudge ?

'How can anything be wrong

(all the world was all for you) ?

My enmity is in your mind,

so what then (servant) will you do ?'



Could this tiny little baby...

be a world leader ?



If he stands up on his feet,

doffs the symptoms of defeat,

makes a game of boxing never,

turns his hand to boxing clever,

waits his time and takes his chance,

learns the secret of the dance;

the art by which a world is fueled,

and yet for this... his God's not fooled.








Nothing can accomplish the leaning of the sage,

until he knows, along with this, the meaning of the age.



'Amen' to Christ we say;

abased to God, we pray...


As robins in the spring,

and bounty to a beggar;

make our hearts to sing,

and mint our gospel currency.


As showers in the summer,

and attention shown to recess;

welcome every comer,

and pepper our activity.


As ochre in the autumn,

and rusty nuts and bolts;

when our hearts have sought'im...

oil our machinery.


As strongholds in the winter,

and faithful Hebrew midwives;

if we ought not splinter...

then thyme our souls' delivery.



God has every season ready at His hand,

and knows the precious reason for every last command.







In God's grand plan we all do fit (subject - bond or free).

We are given wool to knit the vision that we see...



While science strives, despite itself, to undermine it's maker,

art inclines to reinvent the freedom of the faker...


A universe won't hold our dreams yet earth will bind our feet.

Integrity can't weather self till mind and matter meet...


But all the shapes and digits revolving by our eyes,

(fairy tales or fidgets) pupils can disguise.



Many faces, many paths; only one will be...

the end of science, art and maths...

Almighty God's decree.




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