The Living Prayer

The Living Prayer, he is a man, of grace and joy and peace, but not a man of solitude, nor yet a man of ease: a thankful soul, in patience wise, a watchman in the night.

The Living Prayer, he is a sign, a witness to the last. In slumbers still, his courage comes; his smile, with kindness, lights.

The Living Prayer, his heart, it brims, his tongue is held in love. His ears, they know, the Shepherd’s voice; his eyes, they see, His face.

The Living Prayer, he joins the hosts, the Shepherd knows His lambs.  He reaches out: the hands are scarred, but marked with holy grace.

The Living Prayer, he prays out still, His love, it knows no end.

He sings with laud, to Christ’s great joy, the Shepherd holds His lambs.  

In tribute to my friend, Dubose.

Empty Boats

The sad eyes, they are weeping, as days and nights fly by.

The sad heart, it is beating, as strangers walk on by.

The empty boats they are awaiting, from far Tiberias’s shore.

As people thirst and hunger, for bread, but nothing more.

“Give us some bread”, they taunt Him, and many turn to leave.

He says: “Your work is simple; I call you to believe”.

Yet still they turn to leave Him, to walk from shore to shore.

To teach in lost Capernaum, and feed the truly poor.

With bread of life from heaven, and blood of life poured out,

Passover spilled in glory, on doors of conquered doubt.

-A reflection on John 6