The Banquet

You who eat to gladden your gut,
You who indulge to comfort the flesh,
Come to a true banquet!

Rejoice your spirit,
Give joy to your soul.
Fatten your prayer on faith.

Let words ravish the Heart of God.
Even words unspoken, but burning in your heart,
Call angels to your side.

Quiet the world, by stepping apart,
Still your flesh in earnest fast,
Widen the breath of your praise.

The majesty of God inclines to your lips.
For it is He, Who has promised.
Whisper and He smiles.

Copyright Joann Nelander © 2011 All rights reserved.

Sweet Cause

The world of men is full of accusers,
Innocent as doves in their own eyes.
Only the sinner finds a place at Your table,
Garbed, no longer in rotting rags,
But in wedding dress and festive best.

The lowly come
And are welcomed.
Choosing a place at Your feet
You invite "Come up higher".
At Your breast the disciple rests.

Hearts make merry,
While the wine of wisdom
Turns sorrow into joy,
Allowing the cross no less,
Sweet cause of happiness.

©2013 Joann Nelander

Sweet Cause

The world of men is full of accusers,
Innocent as doves in their own eyes.
Only the sinner finds a place at Your table,
Garbed, no longer in rotting rags,
But in wedding dress and festive best.

The lowly come
And are welcomed.
Choosing a place at Your feet
You invite "Come up higher".
At Your breast the disciple rests.

Hearts make merry,
While the wine of wisdom
Turns sorrow into joy,
Allowing the cross no less,
Sweet cause of happiness.

©2013 Joann Nelander

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Sweet Cause

The world of men is full of accusers,
Innocent as doves in their own eyes.
Only the sinner finds a place at Your table,
Garbed, no longer in rotting rags,
But in wedding dress and festive best.

The lowly come
And are welcomed.
Choosing a place at Your feet
You invite “Come up higher”.
At Your breast the disciple rests.

Hearts make merry,
While the wine of wisdom
Turns sorrow into joy,
Allowing the cross no less,
Sweet cause of happiness.

By Joann Nelander copyright 2013

Sweet Cause

The world of men is full of accusers,
Innocent as doves in their own eyes.
Only the sinner finds a place at Your table,
Garbed, no longer in rotting rags,
But in wedding dress and festive best.

The lowly come
And are welcomed.
Choosing a place at Your feet
You invite "Come up higher".
At Your breast the disciple rests.

Hearts make merry,
While the wine of wisdom
Turns sorrow into joy,
Allowing the cross no less,
Sweet cause of happiness.

By Joann Nelander copyright 2013

To Love You More

I live to love you more, O Lord.

Until now, O King,
I labored long for little.
I trusted to myself,
And drew life
From diminishing waters.

Famine and draught
Were upon the land,
For Sin had dried the well of plenty.
My nights were beset with worry,
And the day exhausted my meager stores.

I drew my energy
From the food of swine,
Never in short supply,
For the world, the flesh and the devil
Fed upon me,
And left, as my swill, their refuse.
Never satisfied, I cried.
My avarice outstripped my pride.
Only my growing greed kept stride.

Clouds descended
As night became my guide,
For hope is a thing of prayer,
And my prayer ceased
As from the Sun, I’d hide.

Death, the abode of Sin,
Fought to claim its prize,
And I, all but entered in,
Save for a memory,
Gleaned, as I remembered simpler times,
And leaned upon prayers said for me.

How now to thank
That faith-filled lot,
Who pled for me,
And spoke of He
Who bled to free.

I live anew,
Tears, my livery,
Shed in wanting You.
Feasting in abundant banquet,
My bread, Your Body, my Kingly Core,
Now and forever, in Eternity, O, Lord,
I live to love You more.

Copyright 2012 Joann Nelander

All rights reserved

Lion's Roar:

This morning I’m thinking about the Church.  I love Sundays.  I hear the lion’s roar, “and then he cried out in a loud voice as a lion roars.”(Rev. 10:3)  The lion thunders out, crying “full-throated and unsparing like a trumpet blast…”  “When He roars his sons shall come…”  (Hoses 11:10)  On Sundays,with tremendous power, the Lion of the tribe of Judah summonses the gathering of the Church from all corners of the earth for a great feast.  Even in Lent, the season of fasting, the Church prepares a banquet.  The Lion, Himself, provides the meal, prepared Himself of Himself.  It is here that the Lion becomes the Little Lamb that was slain, but now lives.