The prayers have been offered;
The sermons delivered;
The books written;
The hymns (and ditties) sung.
– oh the fabulous, fathomless poetry –
Has been mastered and subdued;
Bent and wrought to express
A beauty inexpressible.
Few preachers can dive the depths to uncover such a fresh pearl;
Fewer poets can trap time and compress space into such a vivid homily.
Yet words cannot contain the landscapes of eternity,
Or the unspoken language of soul and Spirit.
For even this poem stands, forlorn, at the edge
Of a greater expanse of sublime orchestration.
Where symphony and melody,
Intimacy and ecstasy
In perfect harmony,
Arraying themselves in a garment
Of pure, shimmering praise.
And in that Heavenly throng
Of praise unending,
(of the Lamb who too was slain),
He has no time or space for words:
He composes for Angels now.
From your beloved friend (and student). March 2017