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God Alone!
Beyond the shadows of the abbey
past the wall of stone
away from the sounds of silence
it remains as “God Alone.”
To come to this place, I’ve found it!
To leave from this place I’ve known;
even midst the worldly destruction,
it remains as “God Alone.”
God alone, is my existence
God alone becomes my song.
God alone becomes my joyous strength
God alone keeps me from wrong
When in the fog of sin and pain
and I can’t find my heart for the grief,
I only need to see those walls of stone.
God alone brings my relief.
When the bells call me to my knees
and I come in here to pray,
my mouth has no words for speaking.
God alone tells me what to say.
As the candles burn in silence
bearing petitions to the throne
I bow, in peace, in darkness
my heart in touch with God alone.
In the shadow of the cypress tree
bent and broken from the wind
lay those who found the truth before,
God alone their only friend.
Upon my lips, etched in my heart
and chiseled into the stone,
carved in flesh, and carved with blood
here I stand, by God alone. |
Bring Back the Poetry
(at Abbey of Gethsemani)
Dear God –
Bring back the poetry to me
As I sit in this sacred place.
You have –
Lead me here from a far land
And I have made the journey.
The bells –
Resound across the blue hills
Rolling down with your name.
And I –
Have come home again to
Find what I have left behind.
The birds –
Sing of simplicity and I know
I have made life far too complicated.
I seek –
A calmer way, a truer path
And I have found it here.
Dear God –
Bring me back to the poetry
And create in me a clean heart.
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Even the Wind!
Even the wind cannot be silent
demanding we hear his voice.
Listen to me! Listen to me!
In the dark, he’s made his choice.
Through the trees, around the belfry
Down in the garden, along the walks
No branch or flower unmoved
nor a leaf remaining on its stalk.
Up, up through the trees to the hillside
with a song as big as the sky.
Follow Him! Follow Him!
Eternal mystery from on high!
For God so loved this sinful world
that He gave His only Son,
Born as a child. His life unfurled
To a mission never before done.
Bled and died on a rugged tree
So you and I could be born again.
Even the wind knows the secret
Mystery of God to become our friend.
Listen to me! Listen to me!
I have no soul to save.
It was for you, your human soul
That Christ was laid in the grave.
But if you choose not to seek Him
Or give him the praise that is due
Then I the wind with sing the glory
For I was there when He died for you.
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Singing with the Monks
There it is! Can you hear it?
Lost in the deep sounds of praise.
Listen as the psalms float upwards.
My soft high voice joining the phrase.
Too quiet for singing, too soft for words
but reaching the Father’s ears..
There! Listen! It rises too.
United with the voices of the years.
Somehow, I’d like to know that
because my praise has taken wing
and melded with the holy song
and voices. I may be just imagining
that my heart helps to carry
the songs the monks sing each day
into a new level of heaven
because I was here to pray.
There it is! Can you hear it now?
I know it is there because I sang it.
As holy as the monks who’ve made the vow.
“My life to God!” the bells rang it.
And even if you choose not to listen –
even if you haven’t the time to care
my voice still sings through eternal ages.
I sang with the monks! I was there!
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