Pensive

At the expense of sounding tense I’ve

written a poem and called it pensive:

Many pens have pressed upon leafs

that leave an extensive treatise

that we treat as expressive

of the will of God,

though various shades attend the men as they quill their thought.

These men though gifted

were restricted by the times they lived in.

Cultural norms shaped their views,

and political storms caused them to be skewed, or rude,

and only so far was their vision

that at the end of the day they can only say

”I have written what I have written.”

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But favor we may- Calvin, Spurgeon, or Owen-

the Potter is preferable to the clay

(to Whom every breath is owing),

as knowing God is only achieved through Christ

who’s every word in the canon closed suffices.

Plum what depths they could ‘already’,

there stood in their way an impassible ‘not yet fully’

that only death and resurrection with Him

will give that satisfactory vision.

Then we will see Him as He is,

Jesus, the pure bliss my soul is made for,

and I am one His heart gapes for.

Oh! He has no sin, and has taken away mine!

Other men may break my heart, but not Mine!

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Christ has given teachers and they are good and well,

but well is not all, and Christ is all and well to me.

The word He’s given is simply genius!

Of the highest dignity, yet free from worldly radiance.

A full acquaintance will demand another;

it restores my soul like no other.

Here lies Christ, mystery opened;

here lay I, mouth wide open,

“fill my cup…may I have another”;

He is a friend closer than a brother!

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I commend to you then the Holy Scriptures

which paint a vivid picture

of God’s good creation, the fall of man, and our redemption.

But the fact that many will not reach the goal for which they’re intended-

faith and repentance-

causes me to be

pensive.