PerGoSeeMo Psalm 20

Psalm 20. “As Silver Refined” by Kay Arthur, pp. 193-194

            Like Author, like tailor –

Or such is his hope.

His heart holding love enough for all the worlds;

Every deed born of desire to serve;

All actions devoted to the Highest Good.

His deepest regret that he was not found worthy

To be the Messiah, so you would not have to.

That you died for him, not the other way ‘round…

That you moaned in the garden and he couldn’t hug you…

That he wasn’t at least there to carry your cross –

He’d gladly have been your Simon of Cyrene.

He’d gladly be anything you are,

Or anything you wish.

I wish I were more like my tailor.

            Like Author, like outlaw –

Or such is his hope.

His passion to see and to fill every need;

To be Good Shepherd to his flock of a band;

To guide them with tenderness, chastening gently.

The soft side of fair, but the rigid side, too:

For he must have justice; won’t suffer corruption;

Intolerant of anything less than upright.

He faces, unflinching, any consequence

Of doing that to which he knows he’s been called.

He gladly bore darkness to shine with your light.

He’d gladly be anything you are,

Or anything you want.

I want to be more like my outlaw.

            Like Author, like author –

Or such is my hope.

May those who look me-ward see more than a human;

Let God-ness inside of me be evident.

Give me more love – and, with that, much more patience –

Courageous perfection that casts out all fear.

Nudge my desires in line with your own,

And banish ambition that brings you no glory.

Transfer my center from my self to yours

And… could I get some seconds on that fearless love?

Help me to know your will and live it gladly –

To gladly be anything you are,

Or anything you ask.

I ask to be more like my Author.

PerGoSeeMo Psalm 18

Psalm 18. Isaiah 65:17-25; Romans 8:20-22

            What do you desire for your people? –

Those who love and seek and serve?

Glad lives under new skies

On your recreated earth.

All you’ve made longs for the day

What was becomes what is again;

And in good time, you’ll bring to be

The fruition of your dream

            There will come a day –

A day that never ends in night –

When those you love rejoice in you,

And, in them, you will find delight.

And weeping will be so long ended

That we’ll all forget the sound;

No place for tears upon your holy mountain.

            What do you desire for your people? –

Those who place their trust in you?

No need you will not meet,

Even before they’ve asked you to.

All you’ve made longs for the day

What was becomes what is again;

And by and by, you’ll bring to be

The fruition of your dream.

            There will come a day –

And maybe sooner than we know –

When we’ll be long-lived as the trees,

With all their years to be and grow.

And words like “death” will lose all meaning,

For there will be no death around;

No room for such upon your holy mountain.

            What do you desire for your people? –

Those who say, “Your will is mine”?

Pure joy everlasting,

Untarnished by the pass of time.

All you’ve made longs for the day

What was becomes what is again;

And in the end, you’ll bring to be

The fruition of your dream.