May I, the least and the last,
Who labor in Your vineyard,
None the less, bear fruit,
One hundred fold.
I dare such dreams,
And bear such hope,
For though, the meanest,
And the smallest,
Saints and angels attend me,
Together, we labor for Your glory.
Some know You explicitly,
While others simply wonder at Your Creation,
Not realizing that Creation waits on tiptoe,
Willing Your Will.
May all who implicitly perceive You darkly,
Know You in the Light of Jesus, Your Son,
The First Born of Your Love,
That even the least and the last,
May rejoice at Your Coming to claim Your own.
© 2016 Joann Nelander
All Creation waits on tiptoe for the revelation of the sons of God. (Rom. 8:19)
I AM WHO AM,
God beyond my grasp,
Outside of Time and Space,
How am I to know You?
Calling with the cry of a Babe,
You reveal Yourself,
To a people in darkness
That we may behold You.
You bring Light to my blindness.
I see in this Holy Infant,
“The Father and I are One.”,
“Whatever you do for one of the least,
You do for me.”
The heavy weight of Adam’s Sin
Is lifted as the Babe become Man,
Dies for the sons of Man.
You bring Salvation,
Good out of Evil.
I know You in believing.
I know You in repentance.
I know you in my deliverance,
And freedom to cry, “Abba”.
© 2016 Joann Nelander
How often I beseech
“All the angels and saints”,
Yet, fail to realize
The multitude of the holy,
I call to my side.
They do come.
They come ready to aid,
To do battle,
To protect,
And do bless.
God give me eyes,
That I may see,
For, indeed,
I am, too often,
Blind.
There are wise infrared eyes,
Spying the sky.
We see our universe at its birth.
For eons,
We knew of no such birth.
Blindness of a kind
Can kill.
A child in the womb,
Heart beating for the cameras,
Still fails
To make a Presence known.
How blind the eyes
That refuse to see.
Father of all that is,
Give me eyes of the heart,
That I may
Make a start.
© 2016 Joann Nelander
As you go, make this proclamation: ‘The kingdom of heaven is at hand.’
Be Holy! 