Sitting in the Garden (is a lovely thing to do)

'You have a lot of garden benches', commented one of my sisters recently.

'Do you use them?'

I guess she knows how it goes!

Sitting in the garden is a lovely thing to do

but easier said than done

because gardening and nice gardens don't just happen!

They are a constant labor of love

/aka weeding, hoeing, pruning, dusting and picking!

But here and there every gardener needs to take the time to sit a bit

And fellowship with the First Garden-Creator,

 in the cool of the day....

Sitting in a garden is a lovely thing to do

To marvel at God’s art and let His laughter run us through

To commune with the busy/buzzy bee, the bird, the butterfly

To join the applause of the tree where gauzy breezes sigh

Sitting in a garden in the middle of the day

Grants worry sudden pardon and eases hurry away

For, basking in the beauty where a flower bower brims

Is like sitting where God's music sheets run rife with petal-hymns

The handiwork of He who instills buds and seeds with bloom

Constantly thrills; only God fills and threads nature’s grand loom

He steals our breath; Self dies ten-thousand deaths as She beholds

Perfection’s hues; pinks, chartreuse, blues, whites, reds, purples and golds

Sitting in the garden is earth’s glimpse of paradise

Happiness in purest mirth and labour’s sweetest prize

Work and worship’s Heaven; what a lovely place to be

Sitting in a garden is like sitting at/on God’s knee

© Janet Martin

some more garden pleasure...

Awed Altar-call

Countless crowds throng beaches the world over, 

where front-row, no-charge seating to the greatest show on earth,

 draws young and old to behold the heaven's declaring the glory of God..

Psalm 19:1-4

The heavens declare the glory of God;

the skies proclaim the work of His hands.

2Day after day they pour forth speech;

night after night they reveal knowledge.

3Without speech or language,

without a sound to be heard,a

4their voiceb has gone out into all the earth,

their words to the ends of the world.c

Romans 1:19-20

For what may be known about God is plain to them, 

because God has made it plain to them.

For since the creation of the world God's invisible qualities, 

His eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly seen, 

being understood from His workmanship, 

so that men are without excuse.

...hopefully an awesome awareness of  'No Excuse' 

kindles in our hearts and souls a kind of altar-call

to recommit our wants and ways to the Creator of the world 

and everything/everyone in it! 

In His Word we find everything we need

to restore our souls and

to lead us in 'path's of righteousness'!

Come, Holy Spirit kindle, through the power of Thy Word

A fire of desire to labour for Thee, O Lord

For Thou art near and dearly with each soul who seeks Thy will

Who strives with earnest diligence faith’s calling to fulfill

Lord, let our love for Thee and not the world, consume this clay

Thou, who dost not lead us into temptation or astray

Thou, Invisible, and yet whose qualities are unfurled

In sky and land and sea since the creation of the world

…so that all are without excuse; the universal tongue

Of the heavens declares thy glory to both old and young

Day after day, night after night without language or speech

To the ends of the earth, not one escapes the heavens reach

Lord, come what may, let love abound amidst adversity

For thou wilt keep in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on Thee

Our Father who art in heaven, Thy kind goodness grants

Sufficient grace to help us face and bear the circumstance

Lord, wake in us an earnest ache Thy glory to behold

Let Thy cause be the constant sake that draws and fills faith’s mold

Until we see thee face to face forever to proclaim

Thy praises for the gift of salvation found through Thy name

© Janet Martin

Come Gracious Spirit, Heavenly Dove

Day Maker

John 1:3

All things were made through Him, 

and without Him nothing was made 

that was made.

Psalm 95:1-8

Come, let us sing for joy to the LORD;

let us shout to the Rock of our salvation!

2Let us enter His presence with thanksgiving;

let us make a joyful noise to Him in song.

3For the LORD is a great God,

a great King above all gods.

4In His hand are the depths of the earth,

and the mountain peaks belong to Him.

5The sea is His, for He made it,

and His hands formed the dry land.

6O come, let us worship and bow down;

let us kneel before the LORD our Maker.

7For He is our God,

and we are the people of His pasture,

the sheep under His care.

Today, if you hear His voice,

8do not harden your hearts...

Yon welkin pastures pale

Unveiling new today

On chariots of misted dale

The night is drawn away

…as mercy lights the wick

With hands of Perfect Will

And sets Love's gleaming candlestick

On heaven’s windowsill

Where time’s table is spread

With joy beyond compare

Because we are His people led

Through pastures of His care

Of all that may befall

Of all that we partake

The Maker and Giver of all

Will not His sheep forsake 

© Janet Martin

Psalm 118:19-24

Open to me the gates of righteousness,

that I may enter and give thanks to the LORD.

20This is the gate of the LORD;

the righteous shall enter through it.

21I will give You thanks, for You have answered me,

and You have become my salvation.

22The stone the builders rejected

has become the cornerstone.d

23This is from the LORD,

and it is marvelous in our eyes.e

24This is the day that the LORD has made;

we will rejoice and be glad in it.

Beauty-Bombardment

We need only to look within us and around us

to soon be bombarded with life's Unbeautiful!

But pray we are never so burdened by the unbeautiful 

that we miss the beauty (of the Lord)

Psalm 27:4

One thing have I desired of the LORD, 

that will I seek after; 

that I may dwell in the house of the LORD all the days of my life,

 to behold the beauty of the LORD, 

and to inquire in his temple.

Forbid that in this world that brims with beauty of the Lord

With morning-tide, unfurled in hymns of mercy’s vow restored...

With lilies, though they do not toil or spin, God weaves their cloak

In grander garb than queen or king’s royal garments bespoke...

Where Innocence is following us with unbridled trust...

Where labor is a love-song to He who its page bestows

Where joy is like a fountain as thanksgiving overflows...

Forbid that in this world that brims with beauty of the Lord

With morning-tide, unfurled in hymns of mercy’s vow restored

With lilies, though they do not toil or spin, God weaves their cloak

In grander garb than queen or king’s royal garments bespoke

Forbid that where the beauty of a helping hand is sought

Where far more than stiff duty stirs us from sweet slumber’s cot

(Because love gladdens ups and downs of toil and happiness

And hope is like The Rose that crowns the thorns that prick and press)

Forbid that in this place where each new day of grace is poured

Through the flue of God’s smiling face (though He is oft ignored)

Where Hallowed Glimpse is hollowing each frame of dust to dust

Where Innocence is following us with unbridled trust

Where beauty of a baby is life's sweetest, purest loan

Where in the midst of Maybe God's Word anchors the unknown

Where nature is a theater of Eden's tarnished void  

Where someday the Creator will restore what sin destroyed 

Where what we cannot fathom should fashion each day we live

Where One authors a question to An Answer all will give

Where Example is coaching the most tender among us

Where we are all approaching A Most Sacred Exodus

Where all we have is Given by the One who grants its means

Where night’s dark veil is riven where dawn’s grail spills color-scenes

Where God’s Word is not shaken though Unbelief waxes bold

Where One Day all will waken to undoubtedly ‘Behold’

Where labor is a love-song to He who its page bestows

Where joy is like a fountain as thanksgiving overflows

Where time is but a quiver on strings of eternity

Forbid I (we) scorn its Giver and a Blind Bystander be

Forbid that I (we) do nothing where goodness and mercy brim

But trample the fine clothing of the love and grace of Him

Forbid I (we) miss the thunder of Beauty that wills today

And never thrill with wonder at Love’s sumptuous buffet

…and never be bombarded by the Beauty of the Lord

Dismayed and broken-hearted without comfort, Word-restored

Forbid we spurn the kindness of God’s faithful keep and care

Because we turn to blindness of Unbelief’s Deep/dark Despair

© Janet Martin

Rev. 1:4-8

Grace and peace to you from him who is, and who was, 

and who is to come, and from the seven spirits a before his throne,

  5and from Jesus Christ, who is the faithful witness, 

the firstborn from the dead, and the ruler of the kings of the earth.

To him who loves us and has freed us from our sins by his blood,

  6and has made us to be a kingdom and priests to serve his God and Father—

to him be glory and power for ever and ever!

 Amen.

7“Look, he is coming with the clouds,” b

and “every eye will see him, even those who pierced him”;

and all peoples on earth “will mourn because of him.” c

So shall it be! 

Amen.

8“I am the Alpha and the Omega,” says the Lord God,

 “who is, 

and who was, 

and who is to come, 

the Almighty.”

Mist-kissed Flower

This poem is a bit of bittersweet longing

 for the days/ 'mist' of July; 

a month that always seems to vanish too fast!

James 4:14

What is your life? 

You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes.

Psalm 103:15-16

As for man, his days are like grass—

he blooms like a flower of the field;

16when the wind passes over, it vanishes,

and its place remembers it no more.

Sweet day, you wend your way through thought and touch to disappear

The sparkle of your subtle shuttle weaving yester-year

Like ripples on a lake of laughter; longing-hold-let go

Where echelons of ever-after ever ebb and flow

It makes life feel a little like a dreamland made of mist

A little like a spectacle of echoes/roses to untwist

Dawn spills and fills dusk’s purple tray with latest live-and-learn

Where always, sweet today, you wend your way to No Return

…only to reappear, my dear, as new as new can be

To weave fresh wisps of smile-and-tear/dust veneer into a memory

Bruised bliss, This; being brave enough to kiss your hands and feet

And dance with you, sweet day; for love is always bittersweet

…sometimes I get the sense of you soft-slipping from my touch

And sometimes then, I wish I didn’t love you quite so much

Sweet day, you spill your hour to a bower of Back When

Like petals from a flower that will never bloom again

© Janet Martin

I'm off to spend a sweet day among hollyhocks, green beans, tomatoes aka Garden😊

Summer Getaway...

Brush of breezes tickles treetops

Rush of ripples sighs

Ruffling sheen of silver-green

Against azure skies

Sunbeam-frazzled stars bedazzle

Diamond-studded lake

Shriek of gull and children lull

Dreamers half-awake

Catch of phrases, laughing faces

Sand between tanned toes

Sailors, surfers, strollers, loafers

Sea-song ebbs and flows

Pages linger between fingers

Book-worlds bob and blur

Beach umbrellas bloom, reds, yellas,

Waves-swells melt and slur

Beauty teases, duty eases

Its grip on today

Clocks forgiven, dock-end heaven

Summer getaway

© Janet Martin

Trove of Glimmers

 For the sake of the reader and a long must-do task list I must reel in the poetic rush this poem kindled...

She writes to relive, nay, preserve, the sparkle of the splash

Where soon the arms of Must will curve around childhood’s fleet dash...

She writes to ponder in her heart the faithfulness of God

To share the beauty of His art in sky... and sea... and sod...

She writes to feel the warp and wage where past and future merge

She braves the barrenness of page for the rush of the verge

She dredges deeps of heart and soul for a poem to snare

Like a fisherman born to troll phantom oceans of air

She writes to relive, nay, preserve, the sparkle of the splash

Where soon the arms of Must will curve around childhood’s fleet dash

Where, what in the moment may seem a very staying sum

Soon wafts like fragments of a dream she suddenly woke from

She writes to linger on the brink where dusk’s plum shadows sprawl

To paint with nothing but black ink, the wonder/thunder of it all

Where the drumroll of wanderlust ignores the shores of Time

She writes, to salvage from plumbed dust a memento of rhyme

She writes to garner from a trove of glimmers Bygone-blurred

The pleasantries of life and love immortalized in word

She writes to run her fingers through ethereal echo-fray

Where far to soon the dark runs blue and blush with break of day

She writes to wring from ragged ruin the raw rub of regret

To secure a sense of Still June when long its sun has set

She writes to keep at fingertips awareness of a toll

From which the garb of seasons slips to leave only Her soul

She writes to ponder in her heart the faithfulness of God

To share the beauty of His art in sky and sea and sod

To sift life’s gift with poetry, then share its happiness

To leave behind a legacy of mindful thankfulness

© Janet Martin