Hand in hand on pilgrimage,
Joy and tears are caught up
And carried aloft,
On the wings of angels,
And placed in the brazier
Before the throne of God,
With our hearts prostrate,
And spirits pleading,
For that final awakening
Of which the Saints speak,
And the Church,
In union with Her Bridegroom,
Proclaims through the long Ages,
Leading all to Final Rest.
Come, Christ, Savior,
Come, Happiness of All Souls and Saints,
Come, my Jesus, O Journeys’ End.
copyright 2014 Joann Nelander
In these precious moments before dawn
Prepare my waking body and soul
to serve You,
As You served our heavenly Father,
In Your Incarnation.
Dawning in the Virgin’s
Womb,
Hidden Divinity,
Secret, sacred, Savior,
Announced and served by Angels,
Alive in hallowed Love,
Glorifying Man in Your Mortal Garb,
You are hidden now in me.
Manifest Your glory,
In all humility,
As, yet again,
You dawn anew,
In this heart that longs for You.
copyright 2015 Joann Nelander
Lord of the centuries,
Knit, of our pain, the knots,
That mysteriously arrange themselves
Across our days.
Guide, by unseen fingers,
Each little pearl,
To form a cloth
Alive with Your Golden threads,
Infinitely more than happenstance or tragedy.
Each strand of Time a mystery,
Bathed in trial and tears,
Yet rich in Awe,
Resplendent in Beauty,
And the gracious beneficence
Of sacrificial love.
Whole cloth,
Woven into a seamless robe,
You don in majesty,
Humble and meek in triumph o’er our graves,
As Life welcomes to the Banquet,
Our souls, now clad in bodies,
One with Your Own.
© 2015 Joann Nelander
Lord, you pass by.
A sea of hands reaches for You.
Straining to its end,
Determined, one hand, truly, seems all Heart.
You pass, seeming out of reach.
From Heaven the Father sees,
And satisfies the soul’s desire.
“Who touched me?”, says the Son.
© 2017 Joann Nelander
Here I am Lord
I have brought the world and my day with me
What a motley crew arrayed before You
But not in vain.
We come with a clatter
My noise, our noise,
To the Silence.
The deafening roar
To the hallowed stillness.
Whisper in the chamber of our meeting
Where we tent with You,
Hope for the dying,
Faith to the listening,
Love to the willing.
You looked down
From Your Cross
To behold faithfulness.
There stood Your Mother.
You beheld her look of grief,
Her suffering Your pain.
You wed it
To Your Own,
Presenting all
Before Our Father’s holy throne.
© 2013 Joann Nelander
Be Holy! 