As I Beseech (a prayer in poetic form)

~It has been noted to me that much of my public prayers as a minister are somewhat informal and reflect a more familiar relationship or conversation with Almighty God. I do feel a familiarity with “Our Father in heaven” and it usually reflects in my praying. I was contemplating such comments a few weeks ago during a solitary time of prayer and began to wonder how I might have prayed should I have been born in another time, for instance the 15th or 17th centuries. This prayer came from my spirit unto God. I recorded it and present here as a post in poetry:

Lord, be pleased as I beseech
Thy mercy and Thy Grace;
My heart is truly, Lord, to please
You as my heart cries out in faith.
Lord, be pleased as I beseech
You as the God You vowed to be;
As I endeavor, Lord, to keep
The sacred vows I made to Thee.
Lord, be pleased as I beseech
And grant me now I pray;
Your favor that alone makes me
Such as You’d have today.
With thankful heart it’s You I seek,
In Jesus’ Name, your humble sheep.

I did enjoy that personal prayer time that day with God feeling enveloped in an old religious mystic aura. I could, however, never pray in such a formal manner publicly. I am glad to be His ‘familiar’ child in these current troublesome days we live.

-Donald R. Sansbury, 2013

Can I Find Comforting Words

The Good Shepherd 124 (Photo credit: Waiting For The Word)

Comforting words are called for today,
A mother was told of the death of a son;
Another learned cancer has come her way
Can I find words to comfort such ones;
Can I summon speech that soothes and heals
and bears away such gnawing pain;
‘Tis not my own words that my friends need,
But, those I can say in His Dear Name.

What a trust God has placed in us
That we not abuse His words,
But, use them with the utmost choice
To help and heal, not to hurt;
Some think they have done a righteous work
When oft’ they have only inflicted pain,
Thinking themselves champions with God’s Great Sword
They thrust and flay with words that maim.

But, when I think of Christ our Shepherd meek,
I think of One who sought the lambs;
I think Him loving and tender as with sheep
Who would never berate, bruise, or slam.
I see Him with loving arms outstretched
With words of comfort flowing out,
“Come to me that are weary, I’ll give you rest…”
That’s the kind of words I’m hunting now.

-Donald R. Sansbury, 2013

PRECIOUS AND BROKEN (2013-april-pad-challenge-day-12, Writer’s Digest)

Previous were those feet on which she poured
Spikenard from the broken box she bore;
And the hair with which she gave such care
to those holy feet as fragrance filled the air,

The Thief said, “Why has she done thus?
She could have sold this oil for very much
and given to the brokenhearted poor.”
But, that was not his motive, that’s for sure.

But, precious was her broken heart so seen,
Through eyes of Him whose feet she bowed and cleaned;
He said, “Let this forever be proclaimed,
In memory of this broken soul’s dear name.”

True worship is so often misconstrued,
With motives of the heart hid far from view;
Devotion from an humble, broken heart
is only meant to touch the heart of God.

Sweet Mary cared not that we know her name,
her motives pure, for sins that He forgave;
But, let us call her name remembering thus,
True worship is for Him, not us!

-Donald R. Sansbury, 2013

Related articles

• St. John, Chapter 12, (www.kingjamesbibleonline.org)
• Those who are of a broken heart; (savedbygraceblogdotcom.wordpress.com)
• ناردين The Oil in the Alabaster Box – Spikenard Giveaway (thefragrantman.com)
• 2013-April-PAD-Challenge-day-12, (www.writersdigest.com)

• ALABASTER BOX – CECE WINANS, studio version(www.youtube.com)

NAUGHT (ottava rima, napowrimo-#8 challenge)

Naught of myself,
Naught I have done.
All by the gift,
the gift of God’s Son.
Naught then is left,
but, to be like the ‘one’
of the ‘ten lepers cleansed’
and gave thanks unto Him.

–Donald R. Sansbury, 2013

The Well (A Story of Love)

Garden Well (Photo credit: garryknight)

Being wearied in His journey
and needing food to eat,
Jesus sat down on the edge
of Jacob’s well, we read.
Now to me that just seems funny,
Not ha ha, but curiosity;
Weary, wanting water, food and bread,
Sounds like you, sounds like me.

Came a woman needing water,
Jesus asked her, “Give me, please.”
Cried the woman, “You’re a Jew, sir,
Do you dare request of me?”
Cutting through all racial bindings,
social moors, religious hate;
Jesus spoke with such a kindness,
The woman’s  life was changed that day.

Seems a lesson we can learn here,
Now I’m talking religiously;
Hurting people have enough fear,
the God of love they need to see.
Now before you wax most holy
to upbraid me for giving in;
‘Twas not hate, but love unfolding
that went to Calvary, paid for sin.

Now you’ve done it, gone and stirred me,
I was peaceful in this tale,
‘Til I glimpsed your gross intolerance
covered by your favorite veil.
You may love Him, you may despise Him,
That’s a choice you’re free to make;
But don’t ask others to also deny Him,
Now that you’ve been bitten by hate.

That’s enough now, back to mellow;
Ah, that’s better, where was I, now,
I remember, ’twas the woman life had made low
and the kind, weary savior by the well.
Read it for yourself in  St. John’s gospel,
hope you will for there you’ll find;
God’s not mean, bitter, or vengeful,
In Jesus, He’s actually respectful, loving and kind.

–Donald R. Sansbury, 2013

Simply, I’m So Glad Christ Arose

The empty tomb (Photo credit: jaci XIII)

Let me simply say, I’m so glad Christ arose,
It means new life to me.
Of the greatest story ever told,
Let me simply say, I’m so glad Christ arose;
I cannot write as bards of old,
Or match the gospels’ feat;
Let me simply say, I’m so glad Christ arose,
It means new life to me!

-Donald R. Sansbury

He Bore Our Grief

Great suffering Jesus! (Photo credit: quinet)

He bore our grief, so why should we?
He Who formed our feeble frames
made also relief
Knowing we’d suffer pain.
He took on Himself our plight and cares
that we might cast them off,
And having cast them onto Him,
We then take up His cause.
He bore our grief, so now we His
for sinners still so lost;
As He did not rest, then neither we,
‘Til done the work of the cross.

-Donald R. Sansbury