You looked down
From Your Cross
To behold faithfulness.
There stood Your Mother.
You beheld her look of grief,
Her suffering Your pain.
You wed it
To Your Own,
Presenting all
Before Our Father’s holy throne.
© 2013 Joann Nelander
passion
All posts tagged passion
Lord, my tears are plentiful,
As I behold Thee in Thy rest.
Kneeling in poverty of spirit,
I am thrice blessed.
Your forever Union
With our Heavenly Father
Embraces me as the child,
That I am want to be,
Obedient, merciful and mild.
The Holy Spirit of God
Rests upon me,
Gifting me in sorrow for sin,
Raising me above the world,
And lifting me
To the lap of Abba Father,
With You, within.
Here in hallowed Presence,
My tears fall upon the garden,
You plant in my soul,
To water this consecrated plot
Replete with the promised fulfillment
That heals and makes me whole.
Already, but not yet,
Here in seed,
With You in Eternity,
Won by Cross and Passion-Deed.
©2012 Joann Nelander
You looked down
From Your Cross
To behold faithfulness.
There stood Your Mother.
You beheld her look of grief,
Her suffering Your pain.
You wed it
To Your Own,
Presenting all
Before Our Father’s holy throne.
© 2013 Joann Nelander
You looked down
From Your Cross
To behold faithfulness.
There stood Your Mother.
You beheld her look of grief,
Her suffering Your pain.
You wed it
To Your Own,
Presenting all
Before Our Father’s holy throne.
© 2013 Joann Nelander
Come, my Lord, to this poor dwelling,
You are Lord of all, and heaven is at hand as You approach.
Come in Spirit to my humble abode.
At your coming, the angels make ready.
They spread their wings over Your Mercy Seat.
Come be enthroned here in my heart.
Allow the splendor of heaven
To scatter flowers along Your Way,
As You incline Your Heart
To one in misery for want of You.
I rejoice for You are here,
And in my embrace.
You are Now.
You are mine,
O my Beloved.
Heaven finds a home in my soul,
As You reign in my heart.
A river of Life pours forth,
As You water this garden,
And provide rich food and fruit,
For all who will partake.
copyright 2014 Joann Nelander
Come, my Lord, to this poor dwelling,
You are Lord of all, and heaven is at hand as You approach.
Come in Spirit to my humble abode.
At your coming, the angels make ready.
They spread their wings over Your Mercy Seat.
Come be enthroned here in my heart.
Allow the splendor of heaven
To scatter flowers along Your Way,
As You incline Your Heart
To one in misery for want of You.
I rejoice for You are here,
And in my embrace.
You are Now.
You are mine,
O my Beloved.
Heaven finds a home in my soul,
As You reign in my heart.
A river of Life pours forth,
As You water this garden,
And provide rich food and fruit,
For all who will partake.
copyright 2014 Joann Nelander
Holy Mother Mary,
I invite Your presence in my life.
As you look on my days,
Listen to my prayers,
Watch my growth through the years,
Touch me with the graces
Of.your Motherly prerogative,
You who walked the way of the Cross
With your Holy Son,
From the instant of His Incarnation
In your sacred womb,
Be beside me
In my every moment.
Meet me in my joys and sorrows
And impart your maternal blessing.
May my soul grow holy,
As you rush to lift me,
When I fall,
Just as you interceded
For Jesus in His Passion.
He fell under the weight of my sins,
And you cried out to heaven.
Hear now my heart
Beseeching thee.
Standing by His Cross,
See me in His Suffering
And receive me as your own.
Take the moments,
And all the years,
Of my existence,
In your arms,
As you did the Body of your Son,
When He was lowered from His Cross.
He wrought my Salvation
In that fearsome Hour.
Wrap my years in His shroud
And when I wake,
Rejoice in this,
My Easter morn.
When did his passion begin?
Did it commence with the kiss
By which he bid his loved ones adieu.
Or did the call to battle
Bid him count the cost,
Shattering vanities and proud hoorahs,
With winter ice
Though veins,
Piercing to the marrow of bone.
The Call was always greater
Than one man’s valor or presumption.
Holier than Adam could undertake in rage,
Yet a young David found an “Amen”
Rising within his shepherd- breast,
Shielded by hope and faith
Born of a Savior,
Yet borne into battle
By the foal that carried Him forth.
All battles,
Waged for the souls of men,
Find common ground;
Friend and foe,
Dying side by side.
As grains numbered as the sand,
And the blood,
Bridle high at Armageddon,
Corpses piled and claiming
The best among us,
As generations of spent warriors’ might,
Trust to God
To judge the heart of every man,
And wear his colors in His raiment.
Memories, born as festering wounds,
Or toughened scars,
Mark the man and record the Passion.
No jot or tiddle forgotten,
Fingered on the ground,
Condemning only the Accurser.
Angels minister the balm of Gilead
As the dead live again,
And the living love
Through the Darkness.
Mended hearts,
Held to a measure,
Weighed on scales of Mercy.
Are blessed.
None forgotten,
All forgiven.
How long? How long?
Martyrs witness the passion of the warrior,
And place merited crown,
And victor’s wreathe,
As a new name resounds,
Pronounced by the Mouth of God.
©2012 Joann Nelander
I reach for You
With my life,
All my life.
It is not for naught,
That You labored,
Bore my sins.
I reach for You
With my thoughts.
In the night,
I contemplate Your Dying.
Writhing in agony,
Alone with hell’s phantoms,
Blood called
From Your flesh.
More than a drop
Spoke my name.
Here in the dark,
The echo resounds,
Scatters my foes.
I reach for You
With my heart,
All my heart.
The scourge,
The nails,
The Cross,
Crown Your life,
Given for my life.
You reach out,
Nailed to Your Cross,
Stretched across the ages.
I am but one
Who feels Your Pain.
Your Passion reaches me,
Saves my life,
All my life.
Copyright 2013 Joann Nelander
All rights reserved
You looked down
From Your Cross
To behold faithfulness.
There stood Your Mother.
You beheld her look of grief,
Her suffering Your pain.
You wed it
To Your Own,
Presenting all
Before Our Father’s holy throne.
© 2013 Joann Nelander
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