How Long

Nobody knows how long before

This Time we breathe becomes a door

To where we evermore will be

In a place called eternity

Nobody knows how long until

This block of tick and tock is still

And only what remains appears

Without clockwork of days-weeks-years

Nobody knows how long life’s place

Of hope, redeeming love and grace

Will wait before Death opes a Gate

Where calling then will be too late

Nobody knows how long will be

The vastness of eternity

But this we know; believed, denied

The promises of God abide

© Janet Martin

 For there is no difference between Jew and Greek: The same Lord is Lord of all, and is rich to all who call on Him, for, “Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.” How then can they call on the One they have not believed in? And how can they believe in the One of whom they have not heard? And how can they hear without someone to preach?…

Romans 10:12-14

 Let us hold resolutely to the hope we confess, for He who promised is faithful. And let us consider how to spur one another on to love and good deeds. Let us not neglect meeting together, as some have made a habit, but let us encourage one another, and all the more as you see the Day approaching. 

Heb.10:23-25 

A few acapella favs for you to enjoy this Sunday morning...

  

Summer Run Wild...or When Crickets Sing

When crickets sing we know Time’s wing

Is heavy with impending frost

And suddenly we hear the sound-

Less sound of life’s sure-footed cost

Where all we have and hold is rolled

Into the cold of letting go

Heat-rippled dust and wanderlust

Becomes the toll beneath the snow

When crickets sing heart-hollows ring

With echoes of summer nigh-spent

And senses, numb to living’s sum

Are keened to loving’s discontent

The harbor where summer laid bare

Her laughter, lilting gold and blue

Is gray and tossed with hours lost

On some far star-struck avenue

When crickets sing summer is king

But only for a little while

Its burnished jade cannot dissuade

The hand where Grand Farewells beguile

Past garden plot our meager thought

Rambles like a barefooted child

Through dusk’s so-long to find the throng

That serenades summer run wild

© Janet Martin

Anywhere, anytime, this time of year cricket-minstrels entertain 24-7 !!

Bracing For Fall or Of Summer Spent

 Is there any emptier feeling in the home than when a child moves out for school?

Hugs all around to parents who suddenly find their arms aching for a Summer that is no more...

What pangs do autumn’s hearts torment

With love’s demands when hands are stripped

And trees are lamp-posts, yellow-dipped

And primed for summer-less lament

Ah, life is cursed with discontent

And hollow hurt of letting go

While mouths make promises we know

Will not reimburse summer spent

…so we stand tall and say hello

To newcomers in this Fall place

Of arms still aching to embrace

What time insists on weaning…oh,

The air is like a map we trace

Back to That Shangri-La before

We staggered beneath the loud roar

Of empty room and packed suitcase

What pangs do autumn’s hearts torment

With love’s demands when hands are stripped

And lands are unkempt, yellow-dipped

And primed for Time's timeless lament

© Janet Martin

Brand New Behoovement

Morning rolled over the eastern skyline like a gold hallelujah-song! 

When morning comes a-beaming like a bride with her true love

And gold grace comes a-streaming from the vault of mercy’s trove

When night falls prey to Day, and day is like a tray heaped high

With second chances, oh it makes us glad to be alive

When dawn is like a beacon where we spar with yup and nope

Yet ever over eastern berm returns a hymn of hope

And when we pause to listen where Time glistens with Brand New

Oh, surely it behooves us to join in its gladness too

When darkness sheds its somber veil and weds the night with Day

When from love’s Holy Grail God pours The More that sustains clay

When what is said and done is not the end if we awake

To sands refurbished with demands of yawn, stretch, give and take

…then surely we are stirred to urge from heaven’s splurge, our best

For surly gods of fear cannot love’s sacred footing wrest

Or hamper the renewal where Time like a jewel gleams

With hallelujah choruses and hope’s victorious streams

© Janet Martin

Each morning hope’s footing is restored with light. Hallelujah!

The Lord looks down from heaven on the sons of men

to see if there are any who understand,

any who seek God.

Ps.14:2