Until
"How long, O Lord?"
cry time-garbed prophets
of dusty days
waiting waiting waiting -
for judgement of judges,
for heart-graven laws -
waiting working waiting.
"How long, O Lord?"
weeping over Jerusalem.
For forty coins, O innocent Lamb
lifted up to be looked upon
by tearless blind and
sorrow-blinded seeing.
Forgive us, Judge of all.
"How long, O Lord?"
cries the waiting church,
wallowing spotless bride
hearing the mockers speak
their oft-merited scorn,
holding firstfruits of one Adam
still eating that fruit of another.
"How long, O Lord?"
as false expectations hang,
a fragile shining cloud
above us who feel not their weight
until shattered they descend
piercing trust and pride and most of all
the hearts of those who hope.
"How long, O Lord?"
will the gift of discernment,
of vision,
be not a thwarted burden
but a treasure of seeing
free from maligned motives,
truly serving.
"How long, O Lord?"
as we bow in thankfulness and awe
to our rescuer and consuming fire.
We fear to ask for justice we
fear not to
knowing that beauty will not save the world
but only You, Beautiful Christ.
"How long, O Lord?"
We've hung our harps
on poplar trees
we groan in certain hope
of resurrection, restoration, re-creation.
waiting working waiting
O Lord, keep us in hope.
for reference: Heb12:28-29, 1 Cor 15, and Psalm 137
