Repairer of Fences

(Artist, John Atkinson)

"I am alone in the dark, and I am thinking

what darkness would be mine if I could see

the ruin I wrought in every place I wandered

and if I could not be

aware of One who follows after me.

Whom do I love, O God, when I love Thee?

The great Undoer who has torn apart

the walls I built against a human heart, 

The Mender who has sewn together the hedges

through which I broke when I went seeking ill,

the Love who follows and loves me still.

Fumbler and fool that I am, with things around me

and of fragile make like souls, how I am blessed

and to hear behind me footsteps of a Savior!

I sing to the east; I sing to the lighted west,

God is my repairer of fences, turning my paths into rest."

(Jessica Powers)

Dreams of You...

(Artist Catherine Klein)

"My dreams of you are like the fallen leaves,

colored with brilliance, nomad rustling things,

tossed by winds of olden memories,

they prate of golden summertimes and springs.

When skies were gray you flung them all away...

but, I who loved them, hoard such gifts as these.

By day I revel in their golden lights;

at night they whisper tender sympathies."

(Jessica Powers).

The Garments of God...

Painting by Frank Holl

"God sits on a chair 
of darkness in my soul.

He is God alone,
 supreme in His majesty.

I sit at His feet, 
a child 
in the dark beside Him;

my joy is aware of His glance
 and my sorrow is tempted

to nest on the thought
 that His face 
is turned from me.

He is clothed in the robes of His mercy,
 voluminous garments

not velvet or silk
 and affable to the touch,

but fabric strong
 for a frantic hand to clutch, 

and I hold to it fast 
with the fingers of my will.

Here is the cry of faith, 
my deep avowal

to the Divinity
 that I am dust.

Here is the loud 
profession of my trust.

I will not go abroad

to the hills of speech
 or the hinterlands of music

for a crier to walk in my soul 
where all is still.

I have this potent prayer 
through good or ill:

Here in the dark
 I clutch the garments of God.

(Jessica Powers)

God Is A Strange Lover...

"God is the strangest of all lovers;

His ways are fast explaining.

He sets his heart on a soul; He says to Himself,

"Here I will rest My love."

But He does not woo her with flowers or jewels

Or words that are set to music,

No names endearing, no kindled praise

His heart's direction prove

His jealousy is an infinite thing;  He stalks

the soul with sorrow.

He tramples the bloom, He blots the sun

That could make her vision dim,

He robs and breaks and destroys...there is nothing

At last but her own shame, her own affliction.

And then He comes and there is nothing in the

Vast world but Him and her love of Him.

Not till the great rebellions die and her will

Is safe in His hands forever

Does He open the door of light and

His tendernesses fall,

And then for what is seen in the soul's virgin places,

for what is heard in the heart there

Is no speech at all.

God is a strange lover; the story of His love

Is most surprising.

There is no proud queen in her cloth of gold;

Over and over again

There is only, deep in the soul, a poor

Disheveled woman weeping...

For us who have need of a picture and words:

The Magdalen."

By Jessica Powers, Carmelite Nun

(Painting by Ambrosius Benson)