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
Jesus, write the symphony of my life.
In Your Mystery of becoming,
Blend every note,
And sing the harmony
That embraces the sinner
To create the saint.
You are here
With the Father and Holy Spirit,
Supping and residing,
I receive You in Holy Communion,
Grant that I might never neglect You,
My Holy Guests.
I place You on the music stand of my life.
You are the Score,
And Conductor.
All I receive, I give
On the wind of the Spirit,
To be rightly arranged.
You be the music playing in my soul.
In chorus, Seraphim and Saints intercede,
And I and all creation dance with Miriam
As Jesus mediates the Victory
In His Song of Salvation.
© 2015 Joann Nelander
Lift the veil in this morass of Sin,
That faith may blossom and hope enter in.
Let the Sun of Justice shine
Upon a people in decline,
That looking up from the tyranny of power and things
Your face may captivate and solace bring.
Pour down torrents of Thy Grace
To cleanse this dry and brutal place ,
Uproot to plant anew
A Day of peace like settled dew,
That minds be bright and intellects sublime
And our only glory may be Thine.
© 2016 Joann Nelander
O Man, awaken!
On Earth, you are held accountable,
Are you not?
You sing for your supper.
You dance to life’s tune.
Only the air is free.
All else is taxed.
The first fruit is owed another.
You fear to run from the law.
You are held to a measure.!
If it be such for a man of earth,
Mortal, yet accountable,
Where will a soul, immortal,
Flee upon a coming demise?
Without the stuff of Earth,
Naked and stripped of pomp and circumstance,
Revealed as soul and spirit,
Answering not to man,
But to God,
Are we not all the more accountable?
Copyright 2015 Joann Nelander
I am such a mess.
The rain falls on my soil,
And for a while I am mud.
No hint of fertility.
No hint of growth.
No hint of flowers.
Mud is self-forgetful,
A confusion of gift,
A profusion of promise.
The day will seed to my substance,
Serendipity and surprise,
Plantings for the morrow.
I shall lie here,
Loving my mud,
Waiting for the Sun.
© 2016 Joann Nelander
I do not see myself.
Though I long for holiness of heart,
Of this world I am apart.
I do not know myself.
Though I keep Your Image before my eyes,
The world appears in angelic disguise.
I do not trust myself.
Though I choose Your way,
I fear to be led astray.
I do not save myself,
Though I’m broken and and far from Heaven,
You live in me as heavenly leaven.
You, I see and know,
And You, I trust.
To You, my soul, I, mightily, entrust.
© 2016 Joann Nelander
Be Holy! 