Pondering Worship

Worship is not something we chant or pray

It is everything we do and say

Worship is not words spouted from prim lips

But praise flowing from heart- fingertips

Worship, though pondered on bended knee

Is the forth-right first-fruit of humility

Worship, an expression of willingness

By the life we live, the God we confess

© Janet Martin

In the Sunday-school class I teach we are studying the topic of Worship.

So far I have taught learned that 

Worship is for everyone.

We must put our trust in God before we can know and worship Him.

Worship demands obedience.

We were created for worship.

God is worthy of our worship.

Yet a time is coming and has now come when the true worshipers will worship the Father in the Spirit and in truth, for they are the kind of worshipers the Father seeks. 

John 4:23

Unrestrained Worship

Let everything that has breath praise the LORD. Praise the LORD.
 Ps. 150:6

 

Nature, bereft of pride’s restraint

Swells with the glory of the Lord

It does not offer up complaint

No argument does it afford

Mankind, weighted with Worries Ways

Forgets the God that ageless reigns

'Lift up, lift up thy downcast gaze
And drink from founts that naught restrains'

Holy, holy, creation cries

And splays its prize for all to see

God-breathed glimpses of paradise

Kiss cataracts of misery

The beauty of love’s billion blooms

Is free to all with hearts to see

Where witness to God’s touch exhumes

Confidence in His Majesty

Come, let our lives without restraint

Swell with hope’s humble gratitude

Come, join the song of nature’s saint

'Oh, praise the Lord, for He is good’

© Janet Martin

This book, mentioned here,  

...first stole my heart when I opened the cover to, By Way of Introduction.

It has since stolen my breath, page after turning of page. (you really cannot judge a book by its cover;-))

 (click on image then right click to 'view image' for larger print)

 

Ignorance's Masquerade

Knowledge gloats, bickers and drivels

When stripped of the Giver’s guide

Wisdom resounds, Heaven's Phoenix

From ashes of Adamic pride

Knowledge makes noise, a student

Never acquiring its goal

Without Wisdom’s divine nature

Infiltrating the Whole

Knowledge, but a battered scepter

In Ignorance’s masquerade

If we deny the Creator

Whereby all things are made

© Janet Martin

No matter how well-learned someone may be, they cannot be aware of the absence of authenticity when an attitude of atheism fails to acknowledge the One whereby all knowledge is given. 

Let the wise hear and increase in learning, and the one who understands obtain guidance, Prov. 1:5

The fear of the LORD is the beginning of knowledge; fools despise wisdom and instruction. Prov.1:7

For the Lord gives wisdom; from his mouth come knowledge and understanding. Prov.2:6

Autumnal Madrigal

Now births upon Yon’s beaming stratosphere

The essence of a Presence; Sacred Here

Where earth is smitten with plush quietness

Beneath the rags of summer’s raving tress

Now breaks the captive wake of circumstance

A madrigal of autumnal romance

Nature, the noiseless Victor strips its goal

Where Triumph’s surmount rolls shut like a scroll

Spartan, its overlay of echoes drips

Like Future replayed on foreigner’s lips

Where there is nothing new under the sun

Yet every end is a new Thing begun

Between the forecast and past’s jaded flame

Pursuit and surrender commence, Time’s game

Where the air like a thin blue veil is draped

And tucked across a pale, subdued landscape

© Janet Martin


Then, just for fun I shuffled some lines:)

Now births upon Yon’s beaming stratosphere

Beneath the rags of summer’s raving tress

The essence of a Presence; Sacred Here

Where earth is smitten with plush quietness

Now breaks the captive wake of circumstance

Where Triumph's surmount rolls shut like a scroll

A madrigal of autumnal romance

Nature, the noiseless Victor strips its goal

Spartan, its overlay of echoes drips

Where there is nothing new under the sun

Like Future replayed on foreigner’s lips

For every end is a new Thing begun

Between the forecast and past’s jaded flame

Where the air like a thin blue veil is draped

Pursuit and surrender commence, Time’s game

Plucked, tucked across a pale subdued landscape

© Janet Martin