Category Archives: All Things Catholic

I’m Doing the Best I Can Do

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I say it so often,
“I am doing the best I can do.”
My heart breaks,
For I desire to do all for You,
Yet, I am full of myself,
And You seem silent.

I am still of the earth
And aspire to heaven.
I am so common,
Yet You call me “Beloved”,
And “Child of God”.

My end draws near,
As it does for all men.
Many count their days endless,
And take no account.
What of my end?
Do I please You,
Who number my days,
And promise endless life?

Abandonment draws me
To Your Heart.
Do everything for me,
And in peace
I shall rest in You,
Endless Love of countless days,
Receive me.

by Joann Nelander

Today is the memorial of St. Bernard who wrote:

“The faithful know how much need they have of Jesus and Him crucified; but though they wonder and rejoice at the ineffable love made manifest in Him, they are not daunted at having no more than their own poor souls to give in return for such great and condescending charity. They love all the more, because they know themselves to be loved so exceedingly… ”

St. Bernard of Clairvaux, On Loving God, Christian Classics Ethereal Library, 7, http://www.ccel.org.

Take My Hand

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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

Hide Me, Lord

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Hide me, Lord
On the mountain
Of Your Love.
Place me in the cleft
Of the Rock.
Play for me
The music of silence.
Shelter me
From the storm and noise
Of the world.

©2013  Joann Nelander
All rights reserved

I’m Doing the Best I Can Do

by

I say it so often,
“I am doing the best I can do.”
My heart breaks,
For I desire to do all for You,
Yet, I am full of myself,
And You seem silent.

I am still of the earth
And aspire to heaven.
I am so common,
Yet You call me “Beloved”,
And “Child of God”.

My end draws near,
As it does for all men.
Many count their days endless,
And take no account.
What of my end?
Do I please You,
Who number my days,
And promise endless life?

Abandonment draws me
To Your Heart.
Do everything for me,
And in peace
I shall rest in You,
Endless Love of countless days,
Receive me.

by Joann Nelander

Today is the memorial of St. Bernard who wrote:

“The faithful know how much need they have of Jesus and Him crucified; but though they wonder and rejoice at the ineffable love made manifest in Him, they are not daunted at having no more than their own poor souls to give in return for such great and condescending charity. They love all the more, because they know themselves to be loved so exceedingly… ”

St. Bernard of Clairvaux, On Loving God, Christian Classics Ethereal Library, 7, http://www.ccel.org.

Who is the Poorest of the Poor?

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Who is the poorest of the Poor?
Is it not the one deprived of womb?
Is it not the one gone unnamed?
Given a frame
But denied rightful claim,
Stripped bear of place,
No space to grow,
Deprived of a proper birth?
Is it not the one evicted,
Before drawing it’s first breath,
Whose beating heart is silenced,
With the sanction of the Court!?
With privacy,
Lest the whole world hear it’s cry?

Though a mother forget her child,
The Father of all fathers
Will not, no never, forget.
He has a place,
And a name,
For all the poor,
For the poorest
Of the poor,
Called “Beloved”
And “Poor No More”.

©2012 Joann Nelander

All rights reserved

A Thousand Trumpets

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A thousand trumpets mark Your path.
The lips of angels tremble and anticipate
As hour fast approaches,
For Gabriel’s stormy blast
Ushering the Age’s end,
When on the clouds You will descend,
To come again as way You went .

Sun of Justice with Spirit Sword,
Your Word to cut between the marrow and the bone,
All that stands the test of Fire,
You gather home.

Refuse and stubble
Immolated in furnace heat,
As passing in Your Hallowedness
You devour all that is not meet.

The trumpets’ blare gives way
To music of celestial harps,
And Miriam song sounded strong.
As the martyrs chime,
Finally coming forth from beneath the Altar,
To sing their tune and time.

Holy chorus, at long last,
To celebrate and sing
Triumphant Alleluias
For Salvation’s Mercy King.

© 2013 Joann Nelander
All rights reserved