Brink of Eternity

Good morning, Jesus.
Here we are again,
At the beginning of a new day.

Can you feel me?
Here I am in Your Great Heart,
Reaching for You with my heart.

I feel Your eyes upon me.
You are perfume to my senses.
You are the touch of sweetness
I taste wafting on the breeze of Spirit.

You sound in my heart
With the beating of Yours.
Ever near, ever dear, everlasting,
Song of my soul.

Good morning, my Jesus.
Hold me here,
On the brink of eternity.

©2014 Joann Nelander

Brink of Eternity

Good morning, Jesus.
Here we are again,
At the beginning of a new day.

Can you feel me?
Here I am in Your Great Heart,
Reaching for You with my heart.

I feel Your eyes upon me.
You are perfume to my senses.
You are the touch of sweetness
I taste wafting on the breeze of Spirit.

You sound in my heart
With the beating of Yours.
Ever near, ever dear, everlasting,
Song of my soul.

Good morning, my Jesus.
Hold me here,
On the brink of eternity.

©2014 Joann Nelander

With Veronica

With Veronica,
I want to bathe Your Wounds.
Time and place are no obstacle.
You, in eternity, possess all.
Possess my heart,
And my poor intentions,
Render them pure and holy.

Wiping the spittle from Your Adorable Face,
I weep at Your disfigurement at the hands of Man.
I, in my time and turn, have looked away.
Here, with You, in prayer,
I turn back,
That my present ministries
May touch Your Body,
Alive, suffering in purgation,
Battling with the help of Heaven on Earth,
And triumphant with our Father in glory.

Mysteriously, my wounds,
And warts are healed,
My misery comprehended and mended,
By Your merciful gaze,
My shame surrendered,
And supplanted,
With your look of Love.

With Veronica,
I reach out,
Only to receive back,
My dignity,
I stoop,
To rise with You,
My Hope,
True Image of Our Father’s Love.

©2015 Joann Nelander

 

* The Latin meaning of the name Veronica is “True Image” (vera icon)

With Veronica

With Veronica,
I want to bathe Your Wounds.
Time and place are no obstacle.
You, in eternity, possess all.
Possess my heart,
And my poor intentions,
Render them pure and holy.

Wiping the spittle from Your Adorable Face,
I weep at Your disfigurement at the hands of Man.
I, in my time and turn, have looked away.
Here, with You, in prayer,
I turn back,
That my present ministries
May touch Your Body,
Alive, suffering in purgation,
Battling with the help of Heaven on Earth,
And triumphant with our Father in glory.

Mysteriously, my wounds,
And warts are healed,
My misery comprehended and mended,
By Your merciful gaze,
My shame surrendered,
And supplanted,
With your look of Love.

With Veronica,
I reach out,
Only to receive back,
My dignity,
I stoop,
To rise with You,
My Hope,
True Image of Our Father’s Love.

©2015 Joann Nelander

 

* The Latin meaning of the name Veronica is “True Image” (vera icon)

Resting, Silent

 

virginofvladimir1

Virgin of Vladimir by the hand of JOANN NELANDER

n silence I wait, silent.
Thanksgiving and praise have created the dome about me,
As angels carry their worshipful sound
And sing my song before the Throne of God.
I am implicitly carried with their melody,
Hidden in the words playing before my God.

The Gates open to admit my presence.
I enter, bowing low,
And I am lifted on high.
Kissing the cheek of my Savior,
I wrap my arms about His Neck,
As He on earth,
Loving embraced His virginal Mother
With an all holy and forever Love.

I rest in Your Sabbath Rest,
Gathering strength for the storm,
That Your Triumph may rain down blessing,
To make all days Your Day.

Here in silence, You whisper.
And, yet, is it not, the glorious and triumphal Shout?
Reign, my Savior and King, in your little ones
Longing for You and the Eternal Rest.

Copyright 2015 Joann Nelander

Call to Prayer

Call to Prayer

I know we are connected,
As nerve to muscle,
Sinew to bone,
Cell to cell,
Form and function
In call to action.

One holy Body,
Unique and alive,
Spirit pervading,
Each beloved member
All in humble subjugation,
Saintly suffusion,
As wills unite
In sanctified perfusion.

All unknowing, know by faith
The Father loving the Son.
Jesus, You are my prayer.
Held aloft in priestly hands,
You are we
A chorus of hearts,
Raised on the altar of the Cross.

copyright 2014 Joann Nelander

Joann Nelander
lionessblog.com