Sail

Oft' I have thought I was meant to fly,

Meant to have wings to caress the sky.

Then would I soar in the hawk's domain,

And toss in the wind like a weather vane.

Knowing the freedom of endless flight;

Soaring unchanged as the day turns night.

Wind in my wings, all the world's my own.

I've reached to the heights of some place unknown.

Gravity's bondage no longer holds.

Dreams find a way and my wings unfold.

Here in the sea, I have found my sky,

Where sails, not just wings lend the pow'r to fly.

Breathless, I sail through the wind and sea;

Carried by tempest, I'm finally free.

Floating adrift o'er the storm and gale,

For God gave me wings when he gave me sails.

Treasures in the Attic

I parted heavens glory,

And gold puffed away like dust

Where gossamer ribbons floated

Void of cobwebs, grime, or rust.

I was cleaning Heaven’s attic

In a mansion up the street,

And the memories I uncovered

Were sprawled there at my feet.

I found bits of joy and blessings

And a trunk filled up with hope,

And tied with string, a word of thanks

Tucked in an envelope.

I found albums filled with photographs

Of happy days gone by,

Of smiling faces, laughter,

And the bliss of each July.

I pulled back a big white sheet

That was draped over a chair

The very place I’d talked with God

And come to him in prayer.

And there stacked so neatly to one side,

All my ministries in a line— 

The children’s work, the choir,

Visitation all combined.

Then in the farthest corner,

Behind every happy thought,

I found a box tucked in the back

Some things that I’d forgot.

I opened it up slowly,

Recalling now what was inside,

All my hurts and disappointments

And the things I’d tried to hide.

These don’t belong in heaven

In a place that knows no tears.

I thought to throw the box away,

But paused and drew it near.

I sorted through the contents,

Setting each thing down with care,

And my story then unfolded

With each trifle I found there.

I found a heart once broken

By injustice, hurts and wrongs,

Now mended. Though the scar still showed,

The pulse was beating strong.

There were dreams that I had clung to

Thinking this must be God’s will.

I could see now, had they worked out,

I would be unhappy still.

There were lists of prayers unanswered

When it seemed God wouldn’t speak.

Now reading through the tear stains,

It was I who was too weak.

The times God left me hanging

While He blessed my fellow man,

If only I’d been patient,

I’d have seen His glorious plan.

I looked across the remnants

Of the failures, loss, and pain,

And I wondered at God’s foresight

As I saw His grace so plain.

 All the hurts I’d held so tightly,

Now through heaven-altered eyes,

Were the blessings God had giv’n me,

Were the treasures in disguise.

Circumstances Crash About Me

Circumstances crash about me, and my wind struck vessel breaks.
All my thoughts are left adrift while this heart within me quakes.
Master, still my troubled mind
As you stilled the storm at sea.
Speak the words, “Peace be still,”
That from fears, I’ll be set free.
Master, still my troubled mind
As you stilled the storm at sea.
As the tempest turns to trusting,
Let me rest alone in Thee.

Enshrouded by the shadow of the valley dark and gray,
Wondering in confusion, my thoughts roam far away.
Shepherd, soothe this hurting heart
As you did with David’s song.
Whisper melodies of comfort
As the night watch stretches long.
Shepherd, soothe this hurting heart
As you did with David’s song.
Taking captive all my feelings,
Set my thoughts where they belong.

A child so small, uncertain, afraid to call your name,
Afraid to call you Abba, yet pleading just the same.
Father, take the broken pieces;
Draw me into your embrace.
Hold me close and stop the trembling;
Let me see your loving face.
Father, take the broken pieces;
Draw me into your embrace.
As I give you every heartache,
I am kept within your grace.

All she could give

As those gathered watched in wonderment,
She slipped into the room.
Her head was bowed in humbled shame
In her hands a small perfume.
Her eyes locked on the Savior's feet;
The murmuring began.
As she fell before Him kneeling,
Pent up tears now freely ran.

All she could give were her tears.
All that remained were the tears.
Forsaking sin and wasted years,
Denying guilt and binding fears,
All she could give were her tears.

As the others scorned her offering,
She wept without restrain.
Her anguish spilt before her Lord
Became a sweet refrain.
Her eyes bent with sorrow
Could not look into His face
Till with undeserved forgiveness,
She found worth within His grace.

All she could give were her tears.
All that remained were the tears.
Forsaking sin and wasted years,
Denying guilt and binding fears,
All she could give were her tears.

Then I the vile offender come
To seek the Savior's face.
My life is filled with shameful sin
Not understanding grace.
Till kneeling there before my God
With nothing left to give,
There through His love and in His strength,
Victorious I live.

All I could give were my tears.
All that remained were the tears.
Forsaking sin and wasted years,
Denying guilt and binding fears,
All I could give were my tears.

All had been given in the blood,
Washed in the all-cleansing flood.
My tears of shame were wiped away,
His grace sufficient for each day.
All had been given in the blood.

Behind Burckart Hall

Late at night one midnight dreary
In the practice rooms a-weary
Pondered the musician
o’er the pages of some lengthy score
With the curtain softly flapping,
As her foot continued tapping
Suddenly there came a rapping,
rapping on the crooked door
‘Tis the metronome a-tapping
In the meter of four-four
Merely this, and nothing more.

Ah distinctly I remember
It was in the late November
With recital in December and so much to do before
Frantically o’er scales bemoaning
Suddenly there came a groaning
And her practice now postponing, this new sound she did explore
‘Tis the radiator moaning
As if banging an encore
Merely this, and nothing more.

And the silken, sad uncertain
Rustling of each drab green curtain
Distracted her from fingerings that she could not ignore
All at once she heard a stomping
As if heavy tread was tromping
And she wondered at the clomping just out side the corridor
‘Tis security come stomping
Here to check for unlocked door
Merely this, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering,
Long she stood there wondering, fearing,
As she caught a glimpse of shadows she had never seen before
Then she heard a loud ker-plunk
That was followed by a thunk
And she quickly propped a music stand against the crooked door
Could it be she’d seen the monk
Said to haunt the second floor?
Ah, ‘twas nonsense, nothing more.

This poem is dedicated to all my music friends, to the few who fully understand this poem beacuse they've spent the countless hours in the little cubicle practice rooms.

His Tapestry

Woven together
On the tapestry of your perfect will
The doubts, the deliverance
The hurts, the hope
The tragedy, the triumph
United
Each thread meshed together and deliberately chosen
I didn’t understand
Could not see the purpose
Could not see the image
I would not have chosen it
I would not have chosen the black threads
Threads of despair, of anguish
Yet they outlined your image and made it more vivid
I would not have chosen the gray threads
Threads of uncertainty, of solemn thoughts
Yet the shadows were produced by the light
And the contrast perfected the light
I would not have chosen the red threads
Threads of anger, passion, confusion
Yet mingled with the rest, they were vibrant
Woven together
On the tapestry of your perfect will
I would not have chosen it
I could not have planned something so perfect.