Poetry
We shall hear
Ed Wiebe
We shall hear a Voice echo through the halls:
God's angel every soul to judgement calls!
We shall hear a Trumpet blasting through the air;
Blow away the chaff; leave the wheat stand bare!
We shall hear a Call rumbling over space,
Waking up the dead from their resting place!
We shall hear a Song, methinks, come drifting
O'er the church as from the earth she's lifting!
We shall hear a Shout, as far away we fly,
And gladly, gladly bid this world goodbye!
We shall hear What human ear has never heard!
So God has promised by His solemn Word!
When He Speaks A Word
Ed Wiebe
What if Almighty speaks a word?
Then worlds are formed, as with the crack of thunder,
Burst on the scene, while angels watch in wonder,
When Almighty speaks a word!
What if the Saviour speaks a word?
Then hell's dark powers slink away in fear,
And healing, light and happiness appear,
When the Saviour speaks a word!
What if the Spirit speaks a word?
Then faith and hope are born in human heart,
Fly in as sparks and give new life a start,
When the Spirit speaks a word!
What if the Sovereign speaks a word?
Then let creation hold her tongue in awe;
Let silence rule, till He His word withdraw,
When the Sovereign speaks a word!
What if the Judge will speak a word?
Then sealed forever is their doom, and this
Yes! this: then sealed forever is our bliss,
When the Judge will speak a word!
Ed Wiebe is senior pastor of Fraser Heights Community Church in Surrey, B.C.
Coming leaving coming
Joan Bond
In swaddling clothes
with stable scent
He came to earth
through tear of flesh
trace of blood
his mother's twist of pain
In swaddling garments
with spice scent
He left the earth
through tear of flesh
trace of blood
His Father's twist of pain
Clothed in clouds
with heaven's scent
He will come again
with tear of lightning
trace of scars
His triumphal end of pain
Joan Bond lives in Shilo, Man.
Evening News Children
Lorna J. Tatomir
I tuck my children into bed
And gently kiss their tousled heads,
Quiet now
Like the street below.
Thank you, Lord, for gentle sleep,
Secure streets,
Peace.
The fridge is full,
The house is warm,
This is a shelter from the storm
Of life.
But now I take a moment to reflect
On faces of other children on the screen
Wrenched from sleep, life and play
By falling missiles,
Or hungry children, faces gaunt,
Hands lifted up in a plea:
Feed me, Please feed me.
Dear God, please.
What fortune is it that my children sleep
While others fear the night?
I thank you, Lord, because it's so
And whisper one more goodnight
Into their tow-blonde mops,
Kiss them one more time for love
And pray the killing stops.
Lorna J. Tatomir works for MCC Supportive Care Services in Abbotsford, B.C.
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