Take my hand , my Jesus.
Here I am, Your child,
Too small to stand on my own,
Yet welcome before Your throne.
It is, You, My Cause,
Who sets me upright,
Through and through,
To be like unto You.
All my life called,
And marked by Love Divine,
Under Your Shadow, sun shining above,
One command only, Love!
Who can love without You?
This, too, You supply.
You spend Your Life’s Blood
To draw me from mire and mud.
All from Adam
In human chain,
Hold hands to be set free,
Man from Sin in loving Thee.
Copyright 2013 Joann Nelander
Lord, Most High,
As an eagle, soar our nation’s skies,
Look down and take pity on a people losing their way.
See us as we struggle.
See our deceivers.
See our cherished deceptions.
See our broken law.
The weight of haughty deception,
Oppresses a people,
Fearing the gift of Life.
It is hard to juggle our many gods.
To our folly,
Mammon has supplanted our love for You.
Resisting Your Love.
We choose Death
As an answer to Life.
We think the blessing, a curse,
And the curse, a blessing, nay, a right,
Negation the same as something, someone.
Give Your People Your eagle’s wings,
To scale the heights
Carry us on Your strong pinions
To safety in the clefts of the Rock.
Hide us in Your Sacred Wounds.
With an Eagle’s talons,
Swoop upon the Enemy
Who carries off our young.
Lord, Most High,
Carry us on eagle ‘s wings to the safety of Your bosom,
Let me be the Star that guides.
Let me be the Voice crying in the wilderness.
Let me be the Brother that leads a brother.
Let me be the Mother bidding
“Do whatever He tells you.”
Let me be tears upon Your feet,
Let me be anointing oil
Let me be a cloak that hides your nakedness.
Let me be the prayer of the Blind Bartimaeus:
“Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me.”
Let me pray with You in the garden
Let me draw a spiritual sword by Your Side.
Let me help you carry Your Cross.
Let me weep with You for the Fallen and the Lost,
Lamenting, “.. you would not be gathered.”
Let me feel with Mother Mary
Let me cry out like the Magdalen.
Let me, like the Centurion, recognize You in Your Dying.
Let me sit beside the Angel at Your Tomb.
“He has risen, He is not here”
By Joann Nelander