Thursday, December 31, 2009


Birth to breath,
Breath to voice,
Voice to Word,
Word to Love,
Love to Act,
Act to You.
Identity, birth anew.

How shall I pen
What wells forth,
From Creator to Creation,
The love that dwells within
Since my breath had begun?

Vision after vision, the Image–
The Gift that is His alone.
How can I not be impassioned–
To share with you as One?

He calls me; He tugs at me
To make anew a home,
To share with you a love,
One, in Him, that will never be undone.

This is what drives a man mad:
Not the image of the passing,
Of the imperfect lusts, the passing,
No, the vision, the beauty of the everlasting.

It sets in him a fire of devotion,
Turns his heart end over end in pure commotion,
Demands of him to turn over all,
To hold fast to what is true and what is beautiful.

The man loses not himself in this battle,
This battle of self and of love.
No, the man gains all
In this race of sacrificial love.

He conquers not; he fails not
In this battle to love.
He loses not his identity,
To love, with the Creator, the One.

It is in this very identity
That this man was once born,
But it is also the identity that, with the Other,
He shall pass to daughter and to son.

This is the identity that the Father gives the Son,
That I must do and I must follow,
To love You–only You–
With a heart made for One.

Thursday, December 24, 2009

Such a Night to Believe

"For even they who were scornful on that day of small beginnings shall rejoice to see the select stone in the hands of Zerubbabel. These seven facets are the eyes of the LORD that range over the whole earth." - Zechariah 4:10

Christmas, of all the seasons and times of the year, proves to be a time of both the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. It was such at the time of the birth of Jesus and since that very time.

The beauty inspired by that singular birth has driven so many to the Greater Good, to our God of peace. How could such beauty be born in the meekest of means? How can such a night of darkness bear to birth such a glorious morn of Light?

It is the very same that brings forth new life in the face of the redeeming act in the Resurrection. This is why Mass is celebrated on Christmas Eve, on the cusp of Christmas Day—Christ's Mass. It is birth anew.

Birth is brought forth from the Virgin Mother and Breath gives way to Voice, and the Voice does not go unheard. His Voice takes form to give us the Word that has always been and always will be. And this Word is Love. This is why this Night of all nights goodwill among men is shown. Love has been born.

However, Love cannot be separated from the Act—or the lack thereof. The Act must be there. The Perfect Yes—such as the "Yes" of the Blessed Virgin Mother, Our Mother, Mary did at the Annunciation. Without the Annunciation there would be no Nativity and without the Nativity, no Calvary. And without Calvary there would be no "You." Our very life would be without order and without Love, Love Divine.

We must reach this Identity and pass this Identity to one another, to share this Identity to one and all but most especially in our vocation and station in life.

How can a heart not be impassioned this Night above all other nights? How can a heart and soul not believe in the Promise of God the Father for His children, lost and abandoned to a world lost in oppression, pain, and sorrow?

This is where the choruses raising this evening find voice to sing of this Holy Night, to sing of the Night when Christ was born.

This is the Night of our Identity, our birth anew. Rejoice! May glad tidings and goodwill be sought and found this day, but not just this day but every—that we may live our Identity each and every day—to be Love, to mirror God who is Love.

"In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God.
All things came to be through him, and without him nothing came to be.
What came to be through him was life, and this life was the light of the human race; the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it."
- John 1:1-5

Saturday, October 24, 2009


Water's edge, faces are found
What one finds, not alone
Worthy wishes of want and desire,
Waiting on the time, Love Divine.

A hand reaches out, touching
The water's surface, unsettling
The image given of love, of other
And of other in self.

Water's edge, changing what was
Shows something even more,
Love in the other to be reflected,
Love once in glass, now shattered.

A tear falls down, sadness dropping
Water shakes, water roils from below
Ripples run, in all directions
The hearts fail to love as one.

Water's edge clears to a new scene,
One of searching hearts, one of longing:
Two faces, one place—both fighting—
Fighting for the safety of grace, of something more.

Reflections found, something more
Desires of heart, patience in heart.
Seeking hearts, one place
All in all, Truth in Love.

Reflections of love,
Truth in the flesh.

Monday, September 21, 2009

If I Could Dream a Dream

If I could dream a dream, I would dream one of you. We do these things and the other things not because they are easy, but because they are hard. If I could, I would right now, dream beyond this world and place, to another, to a far different place. If I could muster a voice strong enough, innovative enough, I would voice one strong enough for you.

If I could go to the Moon and snatch it, from the deepest reaches of the mind, and grab it, I would bring it to you— no different, no surprising than a smile before your face. If I could, I would fight the darkness that abounds, the battles that are found. I would fight them for you.

If I could do nothing more than love you, to bring everything before you, I would. I would bring every last morsel, every drop to drink. I would bring them to you. If I could gather all to you under the roof of love and sustain you because of this, I would. I would bear all things for you.

If I could be light for your light, to bring that light to this world of darkness, I would. I would carry it forward, to every crevasse, every valley, every pit of darkness. If I could, I would carry it for you. If I could in all I do, I would be light for you.

If I could be love for your love, a smiling face, a turn of grace—one to love in your very place—I would bring them all, all of them to love. If I could be love, then maybe I would understand. I would understand your plan. If I could be love, then I would understand.

If I could understand the world, its ways, its many shades of gray, what would I stand to lose in you? If I could stand beneath this waterfall of grace, would I not be washed from my pain? If I could stand with you, I would sing with a voice renewed, a voice in Truth.

If I could stand firm with your grace, I would spread your fragrance to every place. With every step, let me stay with you. If I could bring the world to you, I would. If I trust you in all steps lit by lamp, I would be secure in each step. If I would only trust, I would find the path to you.

If I could find that voice, one of love to give, one strong enough to live each day secure, I would be strong enough, strong enough for you. If I could dream the dream of love, I would dream one of you. I would dream a dream of you.

Wednesday, September 09, 2009

Always Breathe

Always breathe in the breath that God gave you...
Always breathe in the Life God intends for you...
Always give the breath of Life to others that God plans through you...
Always breathe in the Life, even if it's hard to remember to keep on breathing.

Poetry is nothing more than breathing put to words—the exhalations of thoughts put to rhythm and rhyme to exclaim the joys of the Divine.

Sunday, August 16, 2009

The Vianney File

Below is what I've decided to call "The Vianney File." It's a series of four poems that I wrote during a visit to Houston for the dramatic performance Vianney about St. John Vianney. Sitting in the pew at the premiere, I wrote the following poems with my own voice but also with an attentive ear to St. John Vianney's life and his voice, specifically Vianney's love for the Eucharist and Confession.

In the first, Sanctus, I explore the timelessness of the Sacrifice and the words tied to it, specifically, "Sanctus." This one was written during the opening hymn before the performance. The sacred music did so much to raise my soul to write these words.

In the second, Moment of Grace, I have attempted to link the Eucharist and the necessary Reconciliation for that communion. I've also explored here some of the sacramental life in general that all Catholics are called to. This one came in rapid succession to the first. It also acts as a personal prayer of thanksgiving through the line "Soul rejoices over the Other." It is, in fact, a thanksgiving for the communion of persons shared that evening from the community of St. Mary's in College Station. The moments of grace and the moments of love are one in the same.

In the third, Weeping in Love, I explore a phrase used during the production by St. John Vianney: "Weeping in love." It's something Vianney did often, and through this poem I try to emulate with dignity. He did indeed find little rest, but it was because he emulated Jesus in giving of himself to his flock, to his loved ones. And so we must do, in our little ways, also.

The fourth, Faithful Families, is a poem of appeal. It is an appeal that was veiled in the historical nature of Vianney's time as well as ours today—the growing secularism of society and the general godlessness of today. This poem is meant as an arousal from the doldrums of our faith. It is a call to action.

If we do not rise to be of faithful families, how are we to go forth and positively change the world? Can it be done if we do not root ourselves first in the Faith? Love cannot be broached by lustful desire, and rightly so only the water He gives brings forth Eternal Life. His love does cover a multitude of sins, and, in this poem, the prayer goes forth for all to return to the fold.

The fourth poem took the longest to compose, seeing as the natural light in the Sanctuary disappeared as the performance continued on, but like ones before this one it was brought to fruition later before the Blessed Sacrament. Even so, I am nearly certain there will be more poems of the sort to fill this file, maybe some more trivial, but what matters most is not the secondary messenger but the Message itself. Here they are, as of yet...


What words to describe,
Life, love—timeless in sight...
What glory given—
Words, those words: Sanctus!

What joy in communion,
Faithful wonder and mystery,
Timeless joy in oneness—
Faithful communion, Sanctus!

What wonder in love,
Faceless and seen all the same,
What wonder in sight—
The moment becomes eternal, Sanctus!

What gift in love—
Blessed Communion in Spirit,
Blessed Communion in Host,
Blessed Communion in the Other,
Blessed Communion in Love!
Sanctus, Sanctus, Sanctus!

Moment of Grace

Moment of grace,
Moment of love—
Absolution from the Mark,
Communion face-to-face!

Spirit graces Soul,
Soul rejoices over the Other,
Spirit and Soul soar skyward—
Soul speaks His Glory.

What gift immeasurable, the Moment
No length of time can compare
Where love and grace meet—
The Soul that is spared.

What glory to speak, a mystery
Without fear, without worry—
Perfect love casts out fear,
Soul rejoices over the Other.

Moment of grace,
Moment Eternal,
What love to revere!
Soul speaks His Glory!

Movement of heart,
From stone to life,
Where grasp is turned to gift,
Gift of face-to-face.

Heart Afire, Heart of Glory,
Speak to us now,
Speak to us with gift of grace,
Communion face-to-face!

Moment upon moment,
United through the moments
To love in the Moment—
To see His Glory face-to-face.

Weeping in Love

Weeping in love,
Immeasurable grief,
Abandonment to God's will,
Dependence in His Providence.

Weeping in love,
Fighting the tears,
What of my direction?
Am I even near?

Weeping in love,
Turning all to Him,
Leaving all behind,
Turning to His Grace.

Weeping in love,
Finding no rest,
No rest for the weary,
Only rest in Him.

Weeping in love,
No conversion without price,
No victory without defeat,
No joy without grief.

Weeping in love,
God fills in the lacking,
The missing He restores;
God gives His Love Restored.

Weeping in love,
All hearts are to be,
Given to the Other
In perfect harmony.

Weeping in love,
That is who we are to be.

Faithful Families

Family of the living,
Family of the past,
What have you done,
Forsaking all the past?

Where is thy devotion,
Where is thy love?
Where are your hearts
That are supposed to be burning with love?

In the brothels,
In the dens—
With wanton looks,
With the multitude of sins!

What choice is there
When love is broached
By lustful desire to be filled
And yet never is fully filled?

No amount of water
Will slake your deadly thirst,
Unless you drink of His water,
Unless you let Him love you first.

His love covers the multitude of sins;
The many souls He saves.
His love does this all;
The whole world He saves.

Don't you get this,
The magnitude of this message?
Don't you understand it,
The Truth in this Age?

He covers all in His love.
Return O families to Him.
With all mercy He restores,
By the Father's right hand, it is Him.

Grace upon grace,
No matter the distress,
Build a Civilization of Love—
Build on Him, the Mighty Fortress.

Faithful families rise up,
Let us pray fervently—
Pray for those lost souls—
Pray for His love to forever take hold—
Pray for mercy, mercy to behold—
Pray that all may return to the fold.

An Addendum: Catholic Ethos

I've come across something more to add to the last posting and would like to offer an addendum and an expansion to further magnify what was already stated on a Catholic political ethos.

As it was read from the Gospel according to St. John this Sunday:
Jesus said to them, "Amen, amen, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you do not have life within you. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him on the last day. For my flesh is true food, and my blood is true drink. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me and I in him. Just as the living Father sent me and I have life because of the Father, so also the one who feeds on me will have life because of me. This is the bread that came down from heaven. Unlike your ancestors who ate and still died, whoever eats this bread will live forever." ( John 6:53-58)
To summarize and distill Jesus' words here and, as it were, also the call to all Christians in its very essence: "In brief, the Eucharist is the sum and summary of our faith: 'Our way of thinking is attuned to the Eucharist, and the Eucharist in turn confirms our way of thinking.'" (CCC 1327). These words, "Our way of thinking is attuned to the Eucharist, and the Eucharist in turn confirms our way of thinking," come to us from St. Irenaeus in the Second Century A.D.—before the Schism of East and West, before the Protestant Reformation. The question we must ask now is, why aren't we fully living it in every aspect of our lives? The Church is not stating in her teaching that it is merely our religious thinking or our political thinking. Her teaching states clearly our thinking ought to be attuned to the Eucharist, to His Sacrifice—where time and space are spanned.

This is the Catholic Ethos: the Eucharist.

Saturday, August 15, 2009

In Response: A Catholic Political Ethos

I was sent a convincing collection of U.S. state constitution preambles in the context of questioning President Barack Obama's 2009 words in Turkey: "We do not consider ourselves a Christian nation or a Jewish nation or a Muslim nation. We consider ourselves a nation of citizens who are bound by ideals and a set of values."

The preambles of the constitutions use an explicit declaration of an "Almighty God" and even the Virginia Declaration of Rights states in its Article XVI: "That religion, or the duty which we owe to our Creator and the manner of discharging it, can be directed by reason and conviction, not by force or violence; and therefore, all men are equally entitled to the free exercise of religion, according to the dictates of conscience; and that it is the mutual duty of all to practice Christian forbearance, love, and charity towards each other."

I am neither going to agree or disagree with the President's words or those of the author of the e-mail I received regarding them. However, the Virginia Declaration of Right's words speak to the duty we have in our view of society and of government in general. I wish to claim it necessary, as such, to view—and thus to to judge—the whole of American society through this particular lens.

Whether or not we were, are, are going to be a Christian nation...the first thing that must be done and instilled in our civics classes is that we have the right as citizens to the exercise of our religious beliefs, which does not mean a shirking of religion from the public square. Rather, it is a healthy expression (not coercion) of religious belief. And, in that, we are to live out the free will we were given since the time of Creation and thus reiterated, time and time again, in the preambles of our state constitutions and echoed countless times through our country's existence—that a country's citizens have a right to not be coerced but to live with one's countrymen in peace and prosperity. That we are truly endowed with the inalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

Freedom of religion (or more rightly stated as freedom from an established state religion) does not equate to freedom from the existence any religion in the public square of the State. If this were to be the case, then the citizen's liberty has been trampled upon and the citizen's pursuit of happiness been halted dead in its tracks.

All men practice religion, but only few actually know what or whom they worship. It's often money, fame, or simply the vain pursuits of life. However, the true virtue of man is to look beyond one's own happiness and see the common good, the common thread in his fellow man. The true practice of religion is to see God's graces in His humanity and His creation and see the Sacrifice He instituted, once and for all time, for the salvation of Man—for the life, the liberty, and the happiness all men deeply long for. It is because of this Sacrifice and the awe of one's gifted existence which flows from this Sacrifice that they are called to true worship, not because of coercion of belief or because of mere labels.

Only once our countrymen actually live up to this calling, to this rugged individualism balanced with a responsible love can we even dare to even call ourselves a "Christian" nation in both word and deed. Only then can we be fully proud to be Americans.

Listen to what Ronald Reagan has to say:

Patriotism is not meant to be blind. It must be informed, informed not just with thoughtfulness and knowledge but also compassion for one's fellow man. There is no freedom without sacrifice. Freedom exists because of sacrifice.

As Pope John Paul II once said: "As the family goes, so goes the nation and so goes the whole world in which we live." We must change this country not by political speeches but by change in one family at a time. We are called to be missionaries to the secular world. It is in this missionary work that true change can—and will occur. All we must do is put our Hope in the correct place and be the change through Him who sent us—and do all this with perfect confidence in His love.


In chapter three of the Georgetown University Press book by Charles E. Curran, Catholic Moral Theology in the United States: a History, pages 77 to 78, the censured Curran makes an interesting deduction: that American constitutionalism as found in the prevailing inalienable rights "is in continuity with medieval constitutionalism" (78).

All other questions of Curran the theologian aside, the first two paragraphs on American political consensus are a good read. As St. Paul said in 1 Thessalonians 5:21: "Test everything; retain what is good"!

Saturday, July 25, 2009

Among the Foothills

Among the foothills
Through the silence found,
I look out upon Your Creation,
What beauty to be found.

Among the foothills
Through the scene unfolded,
I see all You have made,
What handiwork unfolded.

Among the foothills
Through the trees of doubt,
I look upon Your forest of Love,
What Love even through doubt.

Among the foothills
Through the turmoil below,
I see all the joy You have given,
What joy in Faith, Hope, and Love bestowed!

Among the foothills
Through the eyes of Faith known,
I look upon Your field of Hope,
What seeds of Hope have You sewn!

Among the foothills
Through the seeds planted,
I see Your will for me unfold,
What plan so blessed have You planted!

Among the foothills
Through every scene ever told,
I look upon Your hand in it all,
What movements of grace, what hand to hold!

Among the foothills
Through this forest clearing,
I see You through it all,
What beauty in every holy being.

Among the foothills
Through this moment of time,
I look upon the sweeping vista,
What life so richly sublime.

Among the foothills
I see You in my Call,
I see You working—
Pushing my heart closer to Thine.

Friday, July 17, 2009

By the River's Edge

Voices carry
And travel down
The darkness found
By the river's edge.

The waters dance
With glowing oranges,
And ripples bounce
By the river's edge.

The flowing water,
Heard not seen,
Enters the mind
By the river's edge.

Crickets, frogs lend voice
To a symphony for two,
One star-lit view,
By the river's edge.

The stars overhead
Peak in and out,
Blanketing us with joy;
There is no moonlight tonight
Down by the river's edge.

A cypress stands before us
Framed by passing clouds,
Darkest black on orange,
Down by the river's edge.

Perched on stones
In the river's course
We open ourselves to the other;
By the water's edge we discourse.

We look to the stars
And to the still water,
To the tree before us
And a distant light afar.

What distant light is this,
This one around the bend?
Is it a man or creature
At the water's edge?

How can I forget this,
This night of distant light?
What inward search, what sight
Did those words bring out?

I wish this light would stay,
Never, never to depart.
What probing, what faint light
By the river's edge.

Come back to me,
To that very night.
Let's return again anew
To that search, for all that was said
By the river's edge.

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

Take Me Away

Take me away
To a dance floor,
To a simpler world...
Take me with you.

Take me away
One night at a time,
One waltz at a time...
Take me with you.

Take me away
One step at a time,
Down the dance floor...
Take me with you.

Take me away
In your arms
As we glide across the floor...
Take me with your touch.

Take me away
With each step,
With each turn...
Take me with your passion.

Take me away
With the music
That fills each of us...
Take me with your joy.

Take me away
With your deep pools,
Those unfathomable pools of green...
Take me with your eyes.

Take me away
To a simpler world,
One without so many questions...
Take me to a world with you.

Take me away
With each measure,
With each beat...
Take my whole heart.

Take me away,
Never to return
To a time before you,
Only to a world completely new...

Take me away—
Take me with you.

Saturday, June 06, 2009


One step is taken,
One step after another,
We, ourselves, in the Other.

This journey is not short,
Nor is it endless.
This journey depends on—
It depends on love.

His face is ever before us—
Before us He stands.
His face shines in the Other,
In the Other with outstretched hands.

This road is not easy—
Ease is not its reason.
This road depends on—
It depends on love.

Love is rarely easy—
It requires hope...
It requires faith...

It requires a ready model...
It requires a heart completely stretched...
It requires a heart poured out in love.

Saturday, May 30, 2009

Yellow Rose

For a day adorned in white,
For a day celebration.
For a moment all stands still,
For a moment pure elation.

Given to the Other,
Of once two, now one light.
Given in full sight,
At once now together.

Banners float above;
Yellow banners run.
From arch to arch they run,
Signifying the new love begun.

Yellow Rose of love,
See the beauty this day,
See the love joined today,
See the graces bestowed from above.

Yellow Rose of love,
Know that love isn't for a moment
But all times, all places—
Forever a co-author of God’s graces.

Yellow Rose of love
Beneath the Spanish arch,
Stay with this moment,
Stay with it for all time.

Yellow Rose of love,
The time of pruning again will come;
The time will come to be pruned with love—
Be pruned with His love.

Yellow Rose of love,
Remain in His love,
Bear the fruit He gives now,
And blossom in the sun of day.

Yellow Rose of love,
Blossom for the world today.

Saturday, May 16, 2009

Thoughts in Strange Space

Sleep has refused my mind right now, and of all the thoughts that race through my mind the vision of an overflowing fountain where all the water cannot be contained is the one. It overflows abundantly. Such is the case of my mind and heart right now. How can I keep each of these moments these past days, past weeks, and past months? I cannot. They are bound to escape into the ether, into the darkness of night. They are as elusive as of the dreams that are dreamt each night. They are probably even more heartbreaking because they are brought into consciousness in the first place.

But is it worse to have encountered a joyous moment and forgot it or to never have had that joy, that love at all? A time-worn thought indeed, it is not without worthy consideration here at this juncture. How can I not consider it now? It is a time of transition, of shifting priorities, of new directions, of new loves. And yet I leave with a profound emptiness, a distinct and utter hole that I had not recognized when I came to this place six years ago.

Even so, it was meant to be discovered now—not a moment sooner. It was meant to be discovered at this moment, at this very moment in time. No sooner, no later.

The profundities I speak now and have spoken before, the drama of my heart and mind do nothing for my own ego; they should not. I don't write for my own sake, for my own ego—though at times I feel I do. I do not create to necessarily extend my own posterity. And this is where I take some issue with a particular day being "my own" or some writing "my own creation." No, it is not mine alone though it is created within my own free will and effort and hand. There is something more beyond this present reality. There is a reality beneath it, a much more sublime and profound reality.

To borrow and transpose in a personal analogous way from Albert Einstein's General Theory of Relativity, my actions and resulting effects—the accomplishments—are the effects on the time-space fabric. There is only so much that we can do, say, and be there for in this world at the present moment. Even more fleeting are the thinking moments we have, the recollections and preponderances of the future ahead. This limitation has its place as well, for it would be ill-conceived to hope that the analogous "gravitational" effects of the largess of the given "mass" of the moment, so to speak again in a borrowed conceptual model, would overpower the present reality. If that were accomplished, we'd go skipping off into oblivion. There are set tracks for good reason. Anti-matter isn't necessarily a good thing, is it? And so we are presented with a set amount of resources of mind, body, and spirit. What do we do with these talents?

Those who reject the faith component of life may not so easily recognize this jump in conceptual understanding of the universe. And to me there is a great deal of sadness to this reality. The metaphysical reality, as it were, cannot be explained away as fanciful, wishful thinking. There is something more to this, much more. And if it weren't, we'd only be "guilty" of thinking so highly upon our own feeble intellects, so much so to "invent" a compassionate, personal God. However, it is here at this very intersection of faith and reason that I see the most logic. The construct's open world nature gives the best conceptual mapping between mental reality and physical reality. There is an unknown variable that is missing in the closed world set, which is of the utmost importance.

It could be true; it could not be true. It is unknown. The closed world assumption considers it false until proven true. While this understanding is good in the case of court proceedings ("innocent until proven guilty"), it does not bode well for the area of science—an interconnected area of theories to be proven and disproven. There is a web of connectedness between human judicial law, scientific theories and law, and Divine law at its very basics. There are many specifics of faith that are improvable to reason's standard. Most of these questions fall under the subject line of "Why did it happen this way?" These shouldn't be ignored in one's personal journey and search for Truth, but it shouldn't be a stumbling block for discovery of true wisdom and not just merely human knowledge. The divine fingerprints are there.

The complexities of our physical reality, the depth to the specific creation—beautiful, beastly, and befuddling at differing situations—make for a difficult case to dissuade the religious, spiritual person of the Truth found in the Creator God. It is there, real or imagined. Each person goes through their own mental wanderings as we are disposed to at our given intellectual level. And even so, this doesn't preclude other levels of understanding, knowledge, or communication just because it isn't present. The theoretical of science—wormholes and the like speak to another dimension described in physics, or rather alluded to. The allusion is key here. The open world possibility is there.

Simply because the reality that was there all along cannot be described in concrete terms at this moment does not exclude that Truth in reality to even exist. The existence of the underlying truth is always there no matter if it is never discovered by human minds. As an example consider the possibility that the "New World" was never discovered by the Europeans or vice versa, would the New World ever be in existence? Yes, it existed so long as it was set in the first place. Our knowledge of something doesn't create it; it's the primordial existence of the given reality that gives its basis for being Truth.

And so I enter into the search for the fingerprints of the Divine, and I see them all over. The daily small miracles of the ordinary—He is there. In the passing of life into death—He is there. In both sadness and joy—He is there. In times of failure and in times of success—He is there.

To borrow a phrase from John Paul II and his poems, these are "thoughts in strange space."

If this Creator, this "force" that created all things and is above all time only set the world in its course, wound its clock gears so to speak, and set it on its ways with the natural laws then would this universe lose part of its deeper meaning? Would we not reject a reality of the universe that there something greater than our own reality, our own very existence? These thoughts we have must begin from somewhere. They do not just come to existence out of strange space. They must have a beginning. As a result, René Descartes seemingly flips a working reality when he states: "I think, therefore I am." It should read, "I am, therefore I (can) think." And how did we get the ability to even possess philosophical thought or any given thought at all? We don't necessarily exist because we think; we are more than mere mental islands in a large sea. We affect every existence in such a way that our thoughts cannot fully grasp it. Such is the case with the well-known "butterfly effect" regarding the chaos theory.

The Deistic "clock-winder" God only goes so far. The framework of not just a personal God but an intensely personal God is there. The lines of communication, though not physically visible, present themselves in a sacramental way that is not merely a spiritual reality. This jump of conceptual understanding bridges the chasm of understanding between the physical and the spiritual. However, we must be properly prepared in body, mind, and spirit to accept an ever-present intensely personal gift of the Divine. And it is here that we so often fall short of the ideal, our preparedness for the Gift. And yet, those of faith tend to dismiss in the same closed-world fallacy of the scientific humbugs. We turn ourselves intensely inward away from the Unknown. It does not affect change, merely stagnation.

Even so, the Gift is not taken away. We have the free will to accept or deny what is given. And He remains there to help us back out of the dust to reach His love. For the gift is love. The gift is Himself.

It is here that I find great joy even in sorrow of failure. He is there to pick up the fallen. He is there to take back His spouse even in infidelity. He knows us intensely, in every manner and way we go and in every time we succeed and fail. We must accept our frailty and His strength. If not, we reject His sacrifice for us. We reject His love for us.

Paradoxically we must let Him love us. We must let the Infinite bow to the finite. We, the finite, are given the opportunity to accept the Infinite or reject it. And this suitor will not be outdone. He intensely wants us, all of us completely. However, He does not want us out of fear. So often do we act out of fear. No, He wants us to choose Him out of love. And so the Infinite waits on the finite, and the simple reality that the Infinite can wait out the finite is reiterated. His grace is not finite.

So what must we do? Turn to him. That's all. Turn to Him not to avoid the disappointments in the world but to strengthen your gifts from the Divine in the face of the difficulties of the moment. And by passing the difficulties of the given moment, you can and do achieve what is infinite—the love of the Divine. The finite finds that its true limits are the infinite—everlasting life.

And this is where I am, warts and all, before Him. Disposed enough to see glimmers of the fullness of His love, I stand in awe. I stand in awe that He would even shower me with the least amount of water, that saving water. I stand in awe that He would water this unkempt garden that I can become so quickly. Still He waters the weed-filled garden, and yet the Gardener comes. He comes to prune what is dead and pull the weeds that choke His word that is sown.

And still the image of the faithful spouse comes to mind now. He is the faithful spouse, and I the unworthy one taken back. He is teaching me, though I am at times intractable. Even though I futilely fight His love in the passing moments of failure, He keeps coming back to the threshold of my heart and pouring deep within a wellspring of His love.

Deep within He pours a creative spirit that renews, nourishes, and regenerates a dead soul. He accepts the faults of the heart, the wounds of the past to transform what was once lost apart from Him. In this we all become one with Him if we let Him do His will within us and within the world around us.

We are in this world but not wholly of this world. We must remember the depth of the time-space of both faith and reason within our lives. We must keep close to our hearts the Spouse who comes back to us, even though we run from Him.

Turn to Him; see the freedom in this understanding. He is there with an outstretched hand, not a condescending wag of a finger. He has no need of lording our failures over us but only our acceptance of His will in our lives—to be transformed to be instruments and co-authors in His love through His creation and to join Him when our work here is done.

What joy is found in reflecting on these thoughts in strange space. What joy in the face of a hole that remains unfilled still. Some day I will let Him fill it; some day He will choose to fill it, not a moment too soon or too late. I await that time with a continuingly joyful heart.

Sunday, April 26, 2009


We are called
To freedom—
Freedom in the full,
Freedom in Love.

Freedom is found
In holy indifference
To the future ahead,
To Love in the moment.

Freedom is found
In taking what was lost
And realizing again
He is there through it all.

Freedom is found
In leaving the past
Where it belongs—
In the heart that longs.

We are called
To love with a heart that longs,
To thirst for something much greater,
To love in the freedom of the Good.

Freedom to say "Yes"
To the Truth amongst us,
To the fullness of Hope,
To say "Yes" to Jesus.

Freedom is within you,
Freedom to love without fear,
Freedom to love God ever-near.
Freedom lives in you.

Saturday, April 25, 2009

On Passing Occasion for a Friend

A token taken,
A token given
For a fair woman,
A gentle friend.

In passing,
Life seems random,
Without cause,
Without effect

But every gesture,
Every word,
Every breath
Has its place.

Every occasion
Is marked and set,
But life isn’t
Cheerful at every step.

Clamor comes
Only for a moment,
Yet the good times
Last forever.

A gesture seen,
A faith believed
That love isn’t a moment
But an everlasting dream.

But dreams do pass,
They pass into the night—
One step, then two
Off into the cold night they pass.

Dreams last only as long
As the dreamer believes
And sees in his soul
A part of himself, a love to behold.

The lilies are blooming
At the water’s edge,
But the distance to be bridged
Is too far for the dreamer’s stead.

Alas, only Love can span the water
Between the two solitary islands,
Two different worlds—
Yet only silence is found instead.

On passing occasion
Sorrow could be found,
But the dreamer keeps on dreaming
Of a new world for his love.

Monday, April 20, 2009


The Call,
It's not out of the blue.
It's written on the heart,
The heart with Truth.

The Call has always been there,
A beacon of light
In the darkness,
In the wilderness of Truth.

Written on our hearts,
The Call beckons us
To service, to faith,
To Love in Truth.

He speaks to the heart
The plans He hast made,
The plans written from the start,
For His child in body and soul.

He calls each by name
Through time and space
To love Him more fully,
To come to this holy place.

With certainty
His love renews
Our hearts, our minds
To live our call with Truth.

Cast away the doubts
For this call written in you.
Go deeper in love,
To His heart of Truth.

The Call is a call
To a vocation of Truth—
A vocation of blood and water,
A vocation of body and soul.

From the heart
We are to give,
To give fully in love,
To give mercy to the full.

The Call remains ours fully,
No matter our failings,
No matter our weaknesses.
His love, His call remain—

Fully to give,
Fully to love.
Freely we give;
Freely we love.

In a heart of mercy
We live body and soul
To give the gift,
The gift of love—

Forever fruitful,
Forever faithful,
Forever fully,
Forever free.

Forever we love—
Forever we love—
Forever we love—
Forever with the Divine.

Sunday, April 12, 2009

The Easter Light: The Promises of a Faithful Father Kept

The Easter Light is upon us today. It has been a day since the wonderful liturgy of the Easter Vigil has passed into the night, as it were. And the blessings continue to flow with the Light of the new day. And in keeping with the promises He has bestowed on us, I now have kept one promise given to a friend—to finish a book lent in earnest. And my, the spiritual gifts of the book.

And yet, as grace would have it, that was not the first. But I must work my way back to unravel the graces bestowed to me in most serendipitous ways. First we must start with the Easter Light we celebrate that today. As I have heard on television this morning upon waking and have read in the book this evening before writing at this late hour, St. Augustine aptly pointed out that the New Covenant is concealed in the Old, while the Old is revealed in the New. And in the New is Jesus Christ, our Easter Light. There are no coincidences. And this is where I begin for I am a man called to action in Word and, now, in deed.

For some months I have been wrestling with my place in the future ahead. The storms have started once more, and darkness had set in. And this is where I started reading Scott Hahn's A Father Who Keeps His Promises at the behest of a gentle friend. I will unveil the wrestling in due time, but here I will speak of the action the Lord calls me to. It is through this book that I have found the Call reaffirmed.

First, I must admit I go looking for affirmation, sometimes in the wrong places, but I more often than not rest in areas where the affirmation is pure and luminous as day. This book is one of those. While it begins slowly, recounting Israel's long Biblical history with many asides, it warms to the heart of the matter starting with Moses through the desert and especially with Chapter Ten: "Choose This Day Whom You Will Serve!": From Conquest to Kingdom. It the start of the chapter that jumps out to me:
Every parent knows the feeling. Your beautiful little baby is growing and learning how to talk. Then suddenly he discovers the word that changes everything: NO! - pg. 191

It is here that I began to connect this analogy with something I saw last night at the Vigil Mass in the balcony. As we began the Mass, filling the pews of the whole church from top to bottom, I sat down behind a young family—husband and wife with their baby daughter—with the whole church aglow with the Easter light on each of our candles, making the church a sea of candlelight. The baby's eyes were filled with awe and amazement at the light and could not help but be captivated with the candles, her eyes large drinking in the light from all of the darkness of the Sanctuary. I, in turn, could not take my eyes from this scene.

I was drawn to remain there viewing this calm child, eyes full of wonder. It was a drastic change from Friday and Thursday when the older children were almost a terror of complaints, even though they had light to its fullest. But here was the child content with light's simplicity, mere candlelight in a church. Alas, it was not to remain. Upon completing the first part of the Easter Vigil, the Service of Light, the candles are extinguished and the next component of the Vigil, the Liturgy of the Word, begins. It is here that seven readings of the Old Testament are read, an Epistle reading, and then the Gospel reading. It is a full recount of Salvation History. And, in it, we are plunged into darkness with the readings of the Old Testament. It is here the once content child went into a crying fit that drew the family to the antechamber to the bathroom at the back—and never back to their seats in the pews that evening. Very much like the children at each of these stages, we too are with God and His plan. Yes, the fullness of God's light will again appear—in even greater glory—and the whole church will be filled with the fullness of Light as we sing our Glory of God and then hear the words "He has been risen!" with the readings of the New Testament. But we grow confused at times and throw up our voices in terrorized cries.

And so I was with that child at the Vigil in spirit. I have felt as though I was lost in the darkness of the moment and unable to realize that the Light was coming very soon. I will not forget this moment of revelation and enlightened meaning. It is true; we will falter away from the Lord at times. We will not be true to our own word. But the Lord God will always be true to His Word. He will never fail to raise His Word to new heights for the salvation of all, if we only know what to ask of Him in His infinite mercy. We are given the opportunity to be His children with Christ in the fulfillment of the Old. And in this fulfillment there is great promise!

And here I am now, called to action. I am still wrestling with the darkness at times, but the candlelight has returned. The flicker of light dances before my eyes, and my eyes can do nothing but drink in this light day by day.

The Vigil and its images and my completion of the reading of Scott Hahn's A Father Who Keeps His Promises do much to keep that flickering light before me now. And in that I find the Quenchless Light I poetically wrote about last April. It is a Quenchless Light for all nations. It is not dispelled by the night. No, it grows even brighter in the darkness. It displaces the night and it transforms the day, too. It is this Light that Scott Hahn speaks to in Chapter Twelve: "It Is Finished!": The Son Fulfills the Father's Promises.

It is here that Hahn does a masterful job of weaving the tapestry's loose ends together to point to the shining moment of Jesus' salvific role in all of Creation and does a magnificent job explaining the Triduum, from Holy Thursday to the end of Holy Saturday in the Easter Vigil. And the connections could not be ignored by me after experiencing the Jewish Passover on Wednesday night. Hahn's four points in this chapter nail the case shut for the seamless sacrifice from Holy Thursday to Good Friday when Jesus would, as He said, "drink it new in the kingdom of God" (Mark 14:25).

His words, "It is finished!" are in fact the closing of the Jewish Passover performed, with Him as both Sacrifice and High Priest, for as Hahn stated:
For example, when Jesus stood before Pilate (see John 18:33-37), John notes this seemingly unrelated fact: "Now it was the day of preparation of the Passover; it was about the sixth hour." Surely, John knew that the sixth hour was the time when the priests were to begin slaughtering the lambs for Passover. - pg. 228

What magnificent connection! It was something I was pondering with another friend last week who accompanied me to the Jewish Seder meal. It was that Wednesday evening, the start of the Jewish Passover, that we put that question to task, scouring ourselves to the placement of the mention of Passover in the Gospels. It was one of the ones least reticent but at the same time the most, too. Again, there is no coincidence, no passing chance in Scripture.

As Hahn correctly relates the Passover Haggadah to the "once and for all time" perpetual sacrifice found in "the perfection and perpetuity of [Jesus'] self-offering." As Hahn continues, "It can be represented upon our altars through the Eucharist, by the power of the Holy Spirit, so that 'through him [we] continually offer up a sacrifice of praise to God' (Heb 13:15)" (pg. 239).

And it is pointing out the connections that this convert to Catholicism has enlightened me this Easter. And in the last chapter Hahn even hints to John Paul II's Theology of the Body connections within Paul's two metaphors of the Church being part of the Body of Christ and at the same time the Bride for the Bridegroom Jesus Christ. It is in and through the irony of the Gospel of John that Hahn magnifies the mysteries of the Church as Bride and Body of Christ. These two metaphors are not disconnected but very connected with the wedding feast brought to fore in the Gospel of John and again in the Book of Revelation.

And yet it is here in the thirteen and last chapter that I find some of the greatest spiritual gold from Hahn that echoes John Paul II's words, too. Hahn writes:
[...] We desire intimacy, sexual union. We find it in other persons. But that desire points to a deeper desire, which only union with God can meet; and union with God proves to be deep intimacy, unimaginable ecstasy, infinite fulfillment of the desire to love and be loved, to give and receive totally, to become one with the other.

This is truth that only the mystic can really understand; but then, mystics are lovers. And God wants us to be lovers.
- pg. 256

And yet, I still feel very much like David described by Hahn in Chapter Eleven: "Thou Art the Man!": From Kingdom to Exile and also at the close of Chapter Ten, too. It should be no surprise though, as I even share part of my name with him. I have identified a great deal with David, even from youth. And especially over the past few years I have now identified with him for his passion of "vignettes of agony and ecstasy, hate and love, despair and victory, scorn and praise [that] capture this man's unusually sensitive nature as well as his gift with words and music" (pg. 215).

I feel a connection with David's strain of humility during his encounter with Goliath where he wasn't fearless but stood on principle to be the instrument of God's will. As Hahn states, "God has always been and still is looking for people who see themselves as lowly, who are humble before the Lord and fear the Creator more than their fellow creatures" (pg. 213).

And yet David's own passionate flaws are with me, too. As they are with all of humanity. It's that longing I have already quoted from Hahn. But here it speaks directly to David's lustful heart. How do we deal with the lust that enters into our hearts? We must take assessment of it as it comes and redirect the thoughts. And yet, with repentant hearts, then move forward. The same flaws can be—and ought to be—redeemed through Christ. For as David bears the wounds of his sins of adultery and still lives, so Christ bears all our sins and retains the wounds redeemed in resurrection. And there is what we should ask for—redemption of our wounded selves through Christ's death and resurrection.

And still there was more that spoke to me, for long have I reflected on my vocation. And long have I pondered the plans the Lord has for my heart. And I have had many who press me to continue to consider my vocation as if I need to either make a decision at this moment or put it off for what might seem like eternity. But there is a third road, one of embracing the current state of singleness.

I am embracing this third way, but I cannot help but to feel the unveiling of the vocation the Lord has planted on my heart.

This decision that I have encountered buried deep within my heart is that towards marriage. The little moments point to that. The dreams follow the path. The singular desire to concentrate my gift of love is present. The yearning to pass on the Word is there. A patient teaching heart is there also. The tender concern is enkindled and burns within, but I am yet without another to tend the home fires. It is acceptable and right, as I know from prayer and reflection, to still be waiting and biding my time in the Father's bliss. I have still a great deal of time before I too advance in "wisdom and age and favor before God and man" (Luke 2:52). I have much still to learn as I go down this vocational road accepting the promises of a Faithful Father.

Neither is it a blessing nor a curse. It is a transitory period in the Lord's calling to my heart. And still I have uncovered a decision in the midst of this current transitory period that is at times marked with darkness. I will go on further in another post on this process in greater detail, but—suffice to say for the present late hour—it is of great joy. And still it is not full of consolation, but Joy encompasses both consolation and desolation. Joy fills the voids between the two and is in each two. For Joy can be both bitter and sweet and fill the hearts and call us to speak. And it is in this Easter Joy that I have been graced to speak this evening, to speak from the heart. It has been a most gracious day of enlightenment of the heart.

The closing of Hahn's book speaks to me like a love letter from the Lord, a call to my vocational search:
The crisis of the Church is not reducible to the lack of good catechists, liturgies, theologians and so forth. It's a crisis of saints. But it's a crisis that our Father can be trusted to handle, especially if we allow him to keep his promises to us. "I am sure that he who began a good work within you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ" (Phil 1:6). So with Pope John Paul II, I urge you, "Make yourselves saints, and do so quickly!" - pg. 262

His mercy endures forever. Trust in Him, for his mercy endures forever. His mercy endures forever. Alleluia!

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

Treetops Away

Treetops away,
Wonders of love,
We fly away
To the treetops above.

All is quiet;
All is still;
All is wonder;
All is as He wills.

Mystifying mirth—
Only the dreams,
Only the joys
Of life's glory now remain.

The sorrows,
The pains
Of a better tomorrow
Have all now waned.

What else is there
But to remain in bliss
Of a joy that sustains,
Of a lover's kiss.

Come to the treetops—
Let us never again leave.
Come to the treetops—
Let us never cease to be.

Sunday, March 15, 2009

Litany of Love

Mercy, O Lord,
What mercy do You desire?
What love do You require?
What trust, what kindness,
What heart so blessed?

Love, O Lord,
What love do You find fitting?
What path to me are You committing?
What heart to love requiting?

Hope, O Lord,
What hope do You so give!
What Spring Eternal,
What Font of Every Blessing!

Faith, O Lord,
What faith do You desire!
Seeing beyond the bend,
We turn to You, our hearts transcendent!

Trust, O Lord,
What trust do we have in You!
We trust in Your Word
To perfect our love renewed.

Word, Thy Word,
What Word so greatly blessed!
Teach us, Thy Word,
To be love for one another;
Teach us to be love renewed!

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

Love Outpoured

Let me see you for who you are;
Let me know your passions;
Let me learn what means most to you.

Let me move in grace with you;
Let me grow more because of you;
Let me live for you.

Let me give all I have;
Let me speak to you with the love I have;
Let me care for you in good times and in bad.

Let me see the grace within you;
Let me see the faith in you;
Let me see the hope in you;
Let me see the love in you.

Let me love you.

Saturday, February 07, 2009

On Bended Knee

On Bended Knee,
I come this day to pray.
On Bended Knee,
I come to give You praise.

On Bended Knee,
I find my true self.
On Bended Knee,
I find You alive this day.

On Bended Knee,
I am compelled to stay,
To remain in Your love,
To be one with You.

On Bended Knee,
I see the one true God,
One unadulterated, One free,
One forever able, One in whom to believe.

On Bended Knee,
I find His mercy outpoured,
His love, His truth,
His glory forevermore.

On Bended Knee,
I see His presence
With sight, with sound,
With true feeling—Our Lord.

On Bended Knee,
I am enveloped completely,
In totality of Truth,
In love and mercy outpoured.

On Bended Knee,
I surrender to You,
Completely without reserve,
Without any other need.

On Bended Knee,
I seek only YOU,
My Lord, My God,
My whole being; I pray.

On Bended Knee
I thank You
For a centering peace,
A peace centered on You.

On Bended Knee
I shall remain,
To love evermore
With a heart you made.

Wednesday, February 04, 2009


I want to be lost in You,
In Your spirit,
In Your beauty,
In Your love.

I want to wash in Your pools of compassion,
Completely in Your peace,
In Your grace,
In Your love.

I want to breathe in Your presence
Away from my vain thoughts,
Away from my senseless worries,
Away from my hatred.

I want to see Your glory,
In the brightness of day,
In the beauty that remains,
In Your love that sustains.

I want to lose myself
In the humbleness of this world,
In the daily toils,
In the little moments of love.

I want to feel the sufferings
In gentleness of heart,
In waiting for You—the One,
In waiting for the fullness of Your love.

I want to be free in Your love,
In Your fatherly care,
In waiting for Your gifts,
In the robes of Your care.

I want nothing but to be in You,
All the days of my life,
To find myself overshadowed by You,
In the completeness of Your love.

I want to lose myself,
In spirit, body, and soul,
In no other hope but Your own
To live out a life filled with Your love.

The Father's Robes

What senseless toil
Have we done,
We the lost, the wayward?
What suffering have we begun?

We wallow in senseless action
After senseless action.
We find ourselves lost;
We find ourselves without satisfaction.

We cast away our reborn state
To live in discord, disdain,
In a world man has made,
Not a city where angels trod.

But we turn to Him,
No matter our state,
To seek His grace,
To find our true place.

We wait, in our father's robes,
For the day where all are free—
Free from the bondage of sin,
Free to be with our gracious father—our God.


Waves of distress,
Waves of despair,
Waves of pride,
Waves of greed

Waves crash,
Waves slosh,
Waves clash,
They overpower the lost...

One after another,
The struggle continues—
Finding the peace
Amid the endless storm.

What do we make of the mess?
How do we find peace even there?
How do we fight the pain inside?
How do we answer these times of need?

Step out on the waves;
Step out to the One Who Saves;
Step out on the water.
He will not let you falter.

Trust in His voice;
Listen to His command.
See His love;
Follow His way.

See before you the choice;
Choose the Rock, not the sand,
To build your house—based on love.
His grace is enough for the Way.

Then, in His love,
Those waves of distress
Will turn to love,
Ones to lift you, come what may.

Tuesday, January 20, 2009


Today we saw history transpire,
What men and women, now and to come,
Will find further words more eloquent than these
To speak and scribe to generations to be.

Today we saw a voice inspired,
A realization of what all men of goodwill can become,
A changing of guard, a call to a new generation,
A resounding message that all are meant to be free.

Today from our nation's seat
We still find a country surrounded by storms,
By a mess no man or woman can ignore,
A mess by those same men who to us implore.

Today we received a new call of responsibility,
Of what and of whom we should be.
But all men are fallible; all men fail.
All men fail because we are free.

Today begins our nation's new chapter,
One to be filled with tears but also still laughter.
We have much still to do, to be
In this home of the brave, land of the free.

Today will be tomorrow's yesterday,
And though this still will be true,
We will find a way to our own hearts be true,
To live, to prosper, to never cease to be.

Today we live in a land imperfect,
In a union we have yet to perfect,
But we all should not forget the least among us,
Of those whom we cannot even see.

Today we were on a mountaintop,
But here is not a place we can stop.
Still there is much more to do, so much to renew;
Still more remains until we can with one voice agree:

That today will be like the tomorrow
Where all men are indeed created equal,
Where all have the rights to life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness,
Where all created will truly and forever be free.

Sunday, January 11, 2009

House of Prayer

What town is this,
Shuttered and closed?
What town is this
Whom Fate hast shoaled?

Are not its buildings aging?
Are not its streets degrading?
What of its stores, stations, and salons of old?
What of the gin that is no more?

What happened to the town of old,
Along these tracks through field and pasture?
What happened to its once graced stature?
Was this not all once foretold?

Its history is only outlined at best,
Known for an outlaw's birthplace,
Nothing more, nothing less.
But aren't there more stories than this bit of lore?

Aren't there tales of faithful families and more?
What do these boards speak to
And these bricks have to tell?
Are not these hallowed grounds known so well?

The façades may be worn
And the buildings forlorn,
But these streets do hold more,
Much more than I can explore.

Down the main street we shall go,
Past the worn storefronts of old,
Past the post office much newer,
And water tower found in glimmer.

No, something much greater still stands this day,
Something of grandeur that shall never cease to stay,
Something to show the remaining the Way—
A house of prayer, a place of peace.

What is this I hear,
In this town so worn?
Is not a chorus raising,
A community of believers still praising?

How can they praise where opulence has faded,
Where like the creeks' waters have now dissipated?
How can they so gloriously sing
To a God whom they prayed but have not received?

Look closer, my friends; look closer indeed.
See all the joy this night, in word and in deed!
It too is much greater than any building or wonder,
For naught is a city that has so much wonder!

What place is there,
What place of peace!
What place is there,
What house of prayer!

What miracles hast He worked!
What miracles unseen!
Surely there are more,
Much more than are believed!

It is once again Christmas night,
The town restored in colored lights,
But it's inside where the joy is at last,
Where blessings are found—delights of the past!

Generations gather together;
One after another they gather,
Generation after generation of families,
To praise a God who has blest them with His favor.

In chorus raising,
Voices are praising
Their Creator blessed
With songs of praise.

For it's in the past times of struggle
And in the past times of pain
That they remember always the small joys,
The little things that take their breath away.

And still they praise,
For it's the little joys they still seek there.
For where only a dying town once stood,
Now shines a House of Prayer.

My House is a House of Prayer