The Heavens Declare the Glory of God; or, Took upon Him the Form of a Servant

As the wind riddles through the leaves,
in autumn's glory, Lord, I see
a parable of paradox,
of life and death, of death and glory.

You rain on earth and reign in heav'n
like fallen leaves and foliage:
Immanent God! O God Transcendent!

Paint Yourself across the hills
as amber folded up in fire--
o'er forest and the trees--
that as we hear creation groaning
we find solace in your Spirit's breeze.

I Will Put My Law into Their Hearts, and in Their Minds I Will Write Them; or, You Can Lead a Girl to Dementia, but You Can't Make Her Drink

When the river Lethe runs dry
the streams of living water ever flow.

Down by that river I know
(in robe and crown head covering)
that I will see Bea Cooper on the shore.

She's met me many times before,
always saying how
she worked in this bank
and used to be head teller then.

Yet I know that when
Bea meets her Maker
(by and by, Lord, by and by)
she'll remember that
she's met Him once before since--

for blesséd assurance
(Jesus is thine!)
is Sunday mornings watching Bea
recite from rote the Apostles' Creed:
her faith written on her heart
far deeper than her teller days.

Our Old Man Is Crucified with Him, That the Body of Sin Might Be Destroyed; or, Truly God and Truly Man

Thou Golem loam Your body-brick was broken So bake me, in the oven that in imitation (like brick I may be also

Holy— and loaf— that we may break bread. Lord, of Your Holy fire of Your imagination and bread) broken.

Precious in the Sight of the Lord is the Death of His Saints

My God! I watched and waited
for the Respiration of the dead--
eyes strained for her chest to rise:
just one more minute counting breaths
but I matched her zero holding mine.

My God! The Day shall come when
(like breathing chests)
the dead shall rise,
respire, waking from their apnea.

O How Love I Thy Law! It Is My Meditation All the Day

Law has been fulfilled.
How obey--not live under--
Law not abolished?