There is no damping of betrayal’s guilt, The little deeds of virtue cannot serve; They niggle at the structures time has built, Unwilling to admit what they deserve. Even the grasping at the words of grace: "Come unto me, and I will give you rest,” Become the tempter’s taunt, thrown in your face, Counting betrayals of this fair behest. And still it comes, this welcome to the feast, Albeit shadowed with the guilt and sin; Strange Love reminds that this is freedom’s test, And given so, the grace must follow in. So there is damping of betrayal’s guilt, On Calvary, when Covenant blood was spilt.
Maker of galaxies, at latest count Billions! And who can say that our Big Bang Was not preceded, from your primal fount By other billions, while the angels sang? Then shall we take the word of a great Jew, That one child is more precious in your sight Than all the rocks in all the worlds you view, And loyal anima is your delight? Maker of galaxies, how then weigh out A small Iraqi eye, terror-suffused, Against the marvels you have brought about, Why are your little children so abused? “Not bread, not miracles, not use of power,” So your Son said. We must await your hour.
Many fields, many treasures, many pearls (One chosen). Here, fish netted, many kinds, But singularity is not the point, The point is, good are kept, and bad destroyed. Are these the gentle Galilean’s words? If so, a strange form of gentility: The angels throw the evil in the fire, And there is weeping and gnashing of teeth. O, how we twist and turn and rationalize, Assured Matthew was victim of his time, And heaven’s kingdom never need be forced, And “way that leads to life” is easy, smooth. Shall we amend, then, the Apostles’ Creed: “To judge the quick and dead”? This we don’t need.