Why apart?
From the in-gathering, all embracing Mother Church you flee,
To remain apart all the while,
Calling and yearning for your God.

You flee and I run after you,
Pursuing you at every turn,
As I reach and you pull your hand away.
Why not stay?
My Body yearns for you.
My members long to know you.

I wait upon your prayers
With angels ready to dispatch.
O, Pardoned Soul,
You seek your God in myriad ways,
I am here, wedded to My Bride,
Always at her side,
Promised never to depart.
You hold yourself apart.

You’ve built a chapel in your heart
For others that play God,
I call and draw you by Love
Within the chapel of your heart.

You sigh as I tug
At heart strings tight and taunt.
You resist Me for fear they’ll break.
I woo, I’m told to wait.
You say you are not ready
For Love’s music.

“Measure me Your Love,” you say.
“Give comfort, strength and sure supply,
But do not on my ‘Yes’ rely.”

Perhaps the Bride, the Church,
Who bears My Word forth
Unto all centuries,
Has words you n’er obey,
In dread fear of the “ought”
You can not bear.

You will your will be done on earth
And choose to judge all heaven.
You want only love’s first glance,
The sweet embrace
And kiss upon the cheek,
Nothing too dear, nothing too deep.
It seems a bitter end,
To lose yourself in giving all.

O Measured One.
You know Love comes with a Cross,
A Cross you fear to carry.
You choose to stay apart
And skirt the Cross.

Alas, the world without has crosses, too.
They may come disguised in promised delight,
But soon you’ll drag that empty dream uphill.

How long one longs
And labors longingly
And all alone
Beneath the weight
Of vanities profane,
I do not say.
I only await a cry, a plea, A glance of recognition.
When our eyes meet, then our hearts meet;
At long last your leap into the arms
Of One Who grasps you in your fall.

Be mine as Church joined to Husband.
At last the Lord of All
Can leap the walls you’ve built about yourself
To know you now
Within His Sacred Heart,
Bearing your cross in His,
Making all things new
And all your burdens light.
Count now as joy life
Without measure.

Fear not my Church.
She is My Spouse,
My very Body;
I, the Head.

I woo and wait,
Now, as Groom upon the altar.
It is for you
To give yourself away.

by Joann Nelander