All I have is gift, and yet,
My heart craves things –
Impermanent, transient things –
That rust and perish almost as soon
As I take hold of them.
I chase leaves which turn from green,
To gold, and then always to dust.

There is a secret known only
To those who have learnt
To receive all life as a gift;
Who accept need and want
As provision;
Who live or die each day
In peaceful security.

To disavow oneself of all things –
Emptying those secret chests we
Fill with seductive desires –
Is to be free to accept
All things as gift;
To have nothing,
And yet possess everything.

When I consider the birds, the lillies,
And recall all that has truly held value,
Then once again I can receive all as gift.
This is the poverty that enriches;
The emptying that truly fills;
Dissatisfaction that satisfies, and
A discipline that sets me free.

The Rock of Ages came to tell Peter
That the station was fast approaching.
At this station all must change,
For where we’re going this part
Of the journey must first end.
It seemed that he was too weak,
Too frail to make the change
Alone, and so we gathered there,
Around him, with him, to lift him
Up on prayers and hymns, and with
Sacramental love to provision
Him for his passing over.

We know where you are going, but
We know not what it will be like,
What scenery you will behold as
You journey on without us, except
We know that your present weakness
Will be changed more solid than rock,
Like the faithfulness of the One
Who called you home,
And your final moments here will
Reside with us as provision for
Our continuing journey –
Like those model trains going round
And round on their tiny tracks –
Until we meet again in a new country.