It seems that every decade has it’s own special issues. We are offered political solutions that propose to change or cure them. Yet history does repeat itself…. often for very good reasons. For the most part we just don’t get it. God is in control. He will change or repeat things until we change. This gave rise to my poem as follows;
Blest is He who made the wine
Then bled it full upon the cross
Our faith His risen breath defines;
To fashion life, beholding loss
Healer, giver, His Fathers Sage
Promiser of heaven to every age,
The finder of souls so often lost,
Brings love to bear, defying cost
His touch to eye or limb, or brokenness,
Brings blatant sinners to confess.
How is it that we come to know,
But for your pursuing so?
We bow and wash your Holy feet
With tears of joy so mixed with grief
Nations sound their trumpets now,
With compassion-care of His endow.
May your will be done in these poor lands,
Find blessings full at your dear hands.
Restore lost peace to all surviving face.
Let not your tortured sacrifice
Fall swift to Satans’ cruel device
Stripped bare we stand for that embrace,
And hunger for your healing, holy grace.