As we wandered through the flower gardens in a park last Sunday after a picnic on our way home from church, these bleeding hearts reminded me of a poem I wrote way back in 1989.
"My Heart is in His Hand"
"He took it in His hand, that bruised and broken heart,
His working was all gentleness and mercy from the start.
His hand was warm with kindness, and love was in its touch.
And every throbbing heartbeat felt its tender clutch.
And every throbbing heartbeat His gentleness did still.
His mercy and forgiveness with love that heart did fill.
The fining pot's for silver and the furnace is for gold,
But God alone can try a heart with tenderness untold.
He alone can purge its dross, its every thought reveal,
And then in loving tenderness its broken places heal."
And then there was another poem that I wrote a year later:
"The Lord Understood Not"
Alone upon the attic floor all wrapped in grief she knelt.
A hot tear fell, then many more. And pain was all she felt.
"You never suffered so within," she said, "as I have Lord.
You never felt the hurt of sin, that pierces as a sword.
You never did a foolish thing. You never were unwise.
Mistakes, O Lord, did never spring before Your sovereign eyes.
You never made wrong choices, none, nor in contrition knelt.
You never did what I have done nor felt as I have felt."
As heavenward her heart did seek an answer to her fears.
Quick came the answer, readily, as fast as tears did fall:
"I felt it all at Calvary, My child, I felt it all.
"I felt your grief, your hurt, your shame. Your sorrow and sin I bore.
Your suffering and pain and blame I felt, and millions more."
The tears fast dried. She was sufficed,
And honey supplanted gall.
He knew! She thanked her Lord and Christ.
He understood it all!
********
Right there in the section with those two poems was this one, too.
Thine Arms
It was a time there was no word for the cares that o'er me stole.
Only silence, yet You heard the anguish of my soul.
How could I tell You of the pain? It hurt too much to tell.
For telling made it hurt again. Silence was just as well.
In silence did I come to You and all alone, alone.
Silent in my agony, my heart a stone, a stone.
For words could never do a thing for the silent cries You heard.
Strong in their love, soothing in charms,
And infinite in grace.
No word could tell the sacredness, and fled all pain away.
Enfolded in Your arms I rest, and what can I more say?
**********
I'm sharing these poems, because they have ministered to me again this week as I found them in my notebook. I couldn't believe how they spoke to me again,
as I find myself in a totally different situation of ongoing pain, for which complete healing is slow in coming.
I am sharing because I know that this is part of the total human experience for all of us and if these poems have ministered to me again, perhaps there is someone reading this to whom the poems will minister, too.
And finally, here is another poem I wrote more recently, a few years ago, found in my stash of poems:
"Let Me Plant a Rose"
Lord, lest I be tempted to murmur and complain,
And lest I want to look upon others with disdain,
Lest I feel very righteous and am sure I know the way,
And others make another choice, and I can't have my say,
Lord, help me not to sit around in a big fret and stew,
Looking like a pickled thorn with all the pricks in view!
One that looks to You alone for rain and for the sun!
And not just something drab and stark for passersby to see.
I think a stake is ugly, like a tombstone in the dell,
But if a rose climbs up it, it hides the stake quite well.
Like apple blossoms, peonies, and plum trees in full dress.
And when Christ Jesus hung thereon, all beauty seemed so lost.
But as the resurrection turned Calvary's curse to bless,
So give me a rose that I may plant within my wilderness.
For if it's so much better to light a candle's glow
Than curse the night of darkness, Lord may I even so
Instead of planting judgment on the way another chose,
Be given grace to love him, and plant a pure, white rose!
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