Has it only been one hour, my Love?
Our time together has been as one brief flame ignited for a moment on a fragile stick,
then extinguished in an instant by my Lover’s breath.
Has it only been one hour, my Love, since the candle has been lit?
Already, the wax has melted and spills over the edge,
and all our lives have been measured in one solitary flame,
and all our generations have been read in the light of one evening’s candle.
But beloved, be not ignorant of this one thing,
that one day is with the Lord as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day.
The Lord is not slack concerning His promise, as some would count slackness;
but is longsuffering to us, not willing that any should perish,
but that all should come to repentance. II Peter 3:8,9.
Signal Fire
We are like children stranded on this life’s island waiting to be rescued.
Each one of us is a candle, one tiny spark of light searching for our Lord to come
as we wander by the tide, waiting eagerly for His arrival.
And someday when we come together, leaving all our differences behind,
our arms will encircle one another,
our hearts will open wide,
and we shall become one tremendous glowing orb of love and light,
the signal fire our Lord is sure to find.
Now I beseech you brethren,
by the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that you all speak the same thing, and that there be no divisions among you;
but that you be perfectly joined together in the same mind and the same judgment - I Corinthians 1:10.
|
Come Come Lord Jesus and shed Your comforting light upon this house, this Israel, Your church. We have cried for You, our comfort has been in wailing. We push at the walls of this room and find that the earth has grown too small as it has been from the beginning. We choose You. Hear us. We sing up from the ground. Hear us, Oh, Lord and come. We will rest at Your feet. We will wait until Your voice sounds and it will be as a Living Bell, A Thunder’s Echo and all the freedom joy sounds that ever were. Come, Lord Jesus, come. We long to hear Your finale. Days of Noah We are in the days of Noah. Some of us look up at the dark clouds gathering in the sky. Then a door in heaven swings open and our Father cries, “Children, put down your old toys and come inside.” He can see across the plain before Him, a field of souls preoccupied with earthly cares and worldly whims; souls that are swimming in the polluted seas of carnal desire with no desire for Him. “Children,” He calls again, with an urgent pleading in His eyes. “Children, the storm is coming. Put down your old toys, it’s time to come inside.” So very few are listening. They refuse to take their eyes off the ground, but His children come running at the sound. Their Ark is waiting in the wind and to His side they fly, for they are willing to put their old toys down to come and play inside. Copyright 2004 by Hannah Shively Return to Bouquet 
Homepage
|