Upon Time's Season-seasoned Hills...

Upon Time’s season-seasoned hills and plains nothing is new

Yet we see newness rise to light the skies when night is through

And we see bud and bloom relent where bent limb is soft-stripped

before spring-newness stirs again where autumn-tatters dripped

Oh, there is nothing new under Time’s sun, the prophet told

And though discovery may stun even this new is old

For man will ever fit The Plan ordained before time was

His season-seasoned knowledge subjected to higher laws

Time’s teeny tick and tock unlocks newness in ancient form

Its ethereal allotment can take seasoned hearts by storm

And even as dusk’s shadows fall we dare to dream anew

Both young and old, of morrow’s open-minded avenue

Like generations gone before, we gaze with widened eyes

Astonished at the new ways that the old can still surprise

As we learn for ourselves how swift a lifetime can unfold

…upon time’s season-seasoned sweep of new swaddled in old

© Janet Martin

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases;
    his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning;
    great is your faithfulness.

Lam. 3:22-23

Of Paths and Purpose

 

May this our hunger be

As earth-wrought paths we trod

Not wealth or health or luxury

But this; the love of God

May this our purpose be

As plains and hills we plod

Not fame or fortune’s vanity

But this; to live for God

May this our vision fill

Time's sprint twixt sky and sod

Leads not to dust-ash pinnacles

But is the road to God

May this our solace be

…not of vain, carnal fraud

But fully trusting, knowing we

Will soon be home with God

© Janet Martin

 But as for you, be strong and do not give up, for your work will be rewarded."  

2 Chron. 15:7

November-Gray December

 Our November was more like December; white

Now December has been for the most part, November gray…

The fog lies long and lower than the treeline by the fence

It lolls upon the sullen lawn in moody dissonance

The far side of the yard is veiled like nature’s mourning bride

Home is a charcoal button on a mist-cloaked countryside

Sight cannot satisfy its wanderlust; where is the sky?

Is it still blue above this mute and morbid lullaby?

Where middle-day is drowsy in silk-muffled filigree;

Time’s gossamer appointments mantled in a weightless sea

Soulful and sorrow-like it sweeps in soundless magnitude

The pastureland is swaddled in a stance meek and subdued

Dusk overtakes the afternoon at three o-clock or four

Earth is a muffled moment-drop on heaven’s ocean floor

© Janet Martin

If The Looking-glass Revealed The Truth...

Oh, if the looking-glass would show us as we truly are

Then we would blush and rush to hide beneath night’s deepest bar

And we would cry aloud, not proud, knowing our need of grace

From Heaven’s One one who gave His Son to save this wretched race

…and we would see Calvary’s tree and those thieves at His side

Would not be nameless but would look a lot like you and I

And if the looking-glass revealed what skin veils like a sheet

Then we would fall upon our knees and kiss Love’s nail-scarred feet

...and our boast would ever be the Love of Jesus Christ

Bethlehem’s Babe who came to be a Lamb of sacrifice

Once and for all; oh, is there any that can out-love He

Who laid His hands beneath the nails and died for you and me?

Yes, if the looking-glass would show us how we really are

Then we would bow and worship mercy’s bright and Morning Star

And if the looking glass revealed more than flesh-face and hand

Then we would love, knowing without God’s grace ah, who would stand?

© Janet Martin

 

 If you, O Lord, should mark iniquities,
    O Lord, who could stand?

But with you there is forgiveness,
    that you may be feared. Ps. 130:3-4

May He, Jesus be the One we worship this Christmas season,

May joy not the be the tree, presents or any other reason

But may it be, as we behold Jesus the Christ-child King

An over-flowing gladness the makes heaven's joy-bells ring...

 

  

From This Where Moments Wrest...

Now lays He to the banks of earth

A Thing that none has known

And now we marvel at the birth

Of new hope from God’s throne 

Unfolding like a butterfly

Time's new-born beauty beams

Through the cocoon of midnight sky

It breaks in glory-streams 

 

The beck and call of yesterday

No one can return to

But oh, upon earth’s shoreline splays

A gift from God, brand new

See how He spreads across the sky

From raven deep, dawn’s gold

A morsel of thought’s by-and by

Now trembles in our hold

And all that we can ever plead

From This, where moments wrest

Is to pray God his love to lead

And then give Him our best

© Janet Martin

 Sing praises to the Lord, O you his saints,
    and give thanks to his holy name. 

 For his anger is but for a moment,
    and his favor is for a lifetime.
Weeping may tarry for the night,
    but joy comes with the morning.

Ps.30:4-5

The Way Time Flows

  

(this cute video is quite profound)

Emily and I were talking tonight about how we wish we could keep more memories, some simply fade too fast. So we live in the now, let go of its moment and hold on to its memories until some of those too, fade in life's stream...

Nothing now but memories

That’s the way time flows

Through our fingertips with ease

Falls its fading rose

Lilt of laughter, Kiss good-bye

Itty-bitty tear

Flowing to thought’s sweetheart-sky

…memories, my dear

Once upon a blue bygone

Yester-year was now

There we laid its moments down

In time’s forward flow

Where the pictures that we threw

Soft into its tide

Paint a portrait-avenue

Somewhere deep inside

I can touch you now, my dear

Though long we have lost

Afternoons of yester-year

That loosely we tossed

Without thought into a stream

Rushing to repose

Sometimes life seems but a dream

That’s the way time flows

© Janet Martin