The Back Side of God
How his bitter weeping stirred me as he ran off in the night.
I’d provoked him just beforehand into cursing up a fright,
For I’d seen him in the circle of this man they now accused:
Just a common country peasant causing trouble with his views.
We all knew it couldn’t end well for a con who’d crossed the priests:
If he’d thought himself a savior, then his saving days had ceased.
Still, his punishment seemed callous to a simple servant maid,
And I pitied his poor pupil: small, distraught, astray, dismayed.
When they led him out to Pilate I sneaked off to see the show,
Though I knew I’d sense a sickness when the blood began to flow.
I still can’t explain the power that allured me to the scene,
But the way he’d moved his convert whispered love I’d never seen.
But too late! As I approached it, in my mind I turned and fled,
For the sound of cruel flogging made my stomach wrench with dread,
And I thought of God in heaven who they say is kind and good,
And I wished He’d show His mercy in the glorious way He could.
Then a force upon my torso that I felt as if a hand
In some way compelled me onward as if to a promised land.
Through the jeering mob it steered me, though I dared not lift my eyes,
To a little nook well sheltered from their scorn and awful cries.
From the safety of this cleft inside the massive stony wall
I can hear the purposed breathing of the man they fiercely maul.
Then I peek . . . I feel the whip tear in . . . and now I’m overawed,
For I’ve glimpsed a glory etched with grace: the back side of my God.
Ed Morris, 2013
Incarnation
The light and word and wisdom
Of Deity on high
Became a common baby
To wake us with his cry.
Through need he learned obedience
And trust and truth and grace
Till those who gazed intently
Saw glory in his face.
His path of crucifixion
Proclaimed a God whose reign
Can carry for his children
Their guilt and grief and pain.
To resurrection’s riddle
The mystery’s now made known
That with God’s great Messiah
We’re called to share his throne.
This chosen man of suffering
Through whom God’s life is poured
Has thus become our Icon,
Our Pattern and our Lord.
Ed Morris, 2013
Poet in His Poem
The Poet’s pen is fused with fire,
His drama drenched in joy and woe.
His characters in soul aspire
His program and their part to know.
The dusky curtain starts to fall,
For springtime’s scene must surely end.
Will He who scored their mournful call
Forsake His verse or write again?
His energizing mind conceives:
Act Two brings forth a common child.
Though in the plot He deftly weaves,
None other than Himself He’s styled.
Each evil He by faith endures
In this His orchestrated song
His fellow fiddlers now assures
He’s had a purpose all along.
The final proof He will not fail
His creatures then He fully gives:
No autobiographic tale
Is over while its author lives.
A masterpiece of grand design
Unfolds from what is still obscure
For those who long to see it shine
And praise their Poet’s passion pure.
Ed Morris, 2012
The Second Prodigal
Don’t you dare forgive that pagan
Till he’s said the sinner’s prayer.
Keep a watchful eye upon him;
For his hostile heart beware.
For the sake of sober doctrine
It won’t hurt to see him stew.
Make him swear his soul’s allegiance
In the solemn way I do.
I have loved you, I have served you,
I’ve defended your great name,
And I know you much more deeply
Than this scofflaw you acclaim.
Oh, it’s not that I don’t like him;
It’s his good I have in view:
He must prove to our best judgment
That his penitence is true.
If you give your grace so freely
To just anyone who thirsts,
Then they’ll never learn the blessing
Of their selfishness reversed.
Thus indulged in lavish lewdness
My crude blasphemy increased,
And my Father came to meet me,
Welcomed me to join the feast.
Ed Morris, 2012
Echoes from the Emmaus Road
Now were you wondering if I’d be Messiah-king, My land to free from every wretched enemy?
And did you hope for holy flame, consuming all who have no claim on God of Israel’s vengeful name?
And were you wishing that I’d stay and bring about that brilliant day of righteousness and wisdom’s way?
And would you rush to share My reign with no more tears or doubt or pain, and faith exchanged for conqueror’s gain?
Or can you catch My kingdom’s view by trusting in your Father true no matter what He puts you through?
And can you praise His perfect plan who raised Me to His regnant hand to wait the time of His command?
And will you welcome how I’ll win from every nation, tribe, and kin who need, like you, My fire within?
And would you own as Christ today a Savior with a better way than how His people often pray?
Then you will know I am indeed Messiah-king, My world to free from each ethereal enemy.
For I will burn with holy flame your vile desires that have no claim on God of Israel’s joyful name.
And by My Spirit I will stay and work in you My rightful day that shines to show My wisdom’s way.
And while you wait to share My reign, you’ll find the faith to face each strain and triumph in a Lamb once slain.
Ed Morris, 2011
The Gospel in Rhyme
Man is depraved with no will to be saved.
Grace imparts thirst to be gladly reversed.
God paid the price by His own sacrifice.
Pardon is free when we enter this plea.
Life is outpoured in true love for our Lord.
Glory will reign to the praise of His name.
Ed Morris, 2011
God’s Kingdom
Granite-solid, airy, glorious,
Rising o’er the race of time,
Reigns a kingdom all victorious,
Unperturbed by hate and crime.
In this paradise of Eden
Men and women walk with God
Shamelessly, His grace to sweeten
Shadows from the basal sod.
By His covenant they reckon
Sins expunged and stripped of charm.
While the astral mansions beckon,
Zion’s children fear no harm.
Built around a temple showing
Where God’s holiness can dwell,
Source of living water flowing:
Jesus, our Immanuel.
He who proved its prized perfection
Gave it form for eyes of faith
By His death and resurrection
To secure each tenant’s place.
When God sounds the final trumpet,
His great kingdom to unveil,
Then will come the Lord triumphant,
Over evil to prevail.
Left outside, the foolish virgins
With no life to light their way:
Nevermore will sin’s incursions
Darken on that dazzling day.
Fast will fade earth’s former features,
Symbols of a stabler sphere.
God will consummate with creatures
Lavish love that lured us here.
Ed Morris, 2011
Imprints
The ardor of sunshine, the azure of sky,
The hope in my yearning, the ache in my sigh,
The mystery of being I can’t understand:
Incomparable imprints of God’s hearty hand.
The goodness of virtue, the duty of right,
The force of my failure, the evil of night,
My desperate condition despite His demand:
Incomparable imprints of God’s holy hand.
The transcendent triumph of incarnate Word,
By sin-bearing favor forgiveness conferred,
The noblest exhibit of attributes grand:
Incomparable imprints in God’s hallowed hand.
Ed Morris, 2011
Substitution
“Behold the Man!” who stands condemned:
I see as in a mirror
A scornful sinner sneering there,
God’s wrath ablaze with furor.
“Shall I release Him?” Pilate cries,
But they demand another,
And I, the shameful, am set free
To see the faultless suffer.
His crucifiers claim His clothes,
And with appreciation
I marvel at His glorious gift,
The garments of salvation.
My cross He bore that solemn day
With Simon close behind Him.
His cross I’ll shoulder by His grace
And in His footsteps find Him.
Ed Morris, 2009
Psalm 45
My heart overflows with a high soaring theme
And spills out a song of an all glorious King,
Far fairer than mortals, with lips dripping grace,
By God blessed forever, most worthy of praise.
O mightiest Victor, majestic and strong,
With sword on Your side, in Your splendor ride on!
Crusading for meekness, for truth, and for right,
Your piercing, sharp arrows will win every fight.
Your throne is eternal, O God of all fame.
A scepter of justice embodies Your reign.
By Your God anointed with pleasures anew
Because of Your love for the holy and true.
Your garments waft fragrance, exotic and rare,
From opulent ivory palaces where,
Surrounded with honor and at Your right hand,
A queen crowned with gold You’ve exalted to stand.
Listen, O bride of a heavenly King:
Do not love the world from which you’ve been redeemed,
But reverence your Master with worshipful fear;
He treasures your beauty who’s made you so pure.
With gladness and joy you’ll be brought to your King
In radiant white raiment, forever to sing
The praise of the Sovereign who sits on the throne,
Who loved you and blessed you and named you His own.
Ed Morris, 2008
Herein Is Love
Herein is love divine,
That God His Son should give
That mankind might rich mercy find,
And pardoned sinners live.
Herein is love how vast,
Its wondrous reach how wide!
No rebel ever was outcast
Who on the Lord relied.
Herein is love how long,
Undying, changeless, sure!
No woe can ever slow its song,
No blight its light obscure.
Herein is love how true,
Its depth proved by its price!
God’s holy wrath, sin’s awful due,
Sustained by sacrifice.
Herein is love how grand;
None could its height express!
It lifts us up with Christ to stand,
Redeemed and fully blest.
Sing how this perfect love
A perfect source proclaims
And glorifies our God above,
Outpraising all acclaims.
Ed Morris, 2008
May be sung to S.M. tunes including Boylston and Dennis (Blest Be the Tie That Binds).
Embracing God’s Glory
This the story of my bliss:
For God’s glory I exist.
If this treasure claim you stake,
Of His pleasure you’ll partake.
Ed Morris, 2008
The Golden Chain of Redemption
’Tis glorious to trace how the God of all grace
Works His shining salvation’s decree,
And loving Him now, I delight to see how
It’s because of His first loving me.
The process began with His purpose and plan
From before the foundation of time:
He named me His own, marking me as foreknown,
Though through no undertaking of mine.
His love would not rest without me being blessed;
He ensured it would all come to pass.
He predestined the line, how my life would unwind
To conform to Christ’s image at last.
The day finally came when He’d realize His claim
And reveal His dear Son in my heart.
The call of His Word then effectually stirred
The sweet hearing of faith on my part.
By faith justified, from my sins purified,
In His righteousness I’m made to stand.
He gave me new birth that’s of infinite worth;
I partake of His nature so grand.
Thus fixed to the vine, I can bear fruit divine,
For His promise of glory’s begun,
And it’s bound to complete when I bow at His feet
And forever give praise to the Son!
Ed Morris, 2008
(Based on Romans 8:29-30)
The Divine Artist
Transcendently satisfied, self-fulfilled God,
Dependent on nothing, perfection uncaused,
No lack in Your essence compelled You to take
Your paintbrush in hand and a masterpiece make.
The soul of the artist soars gloriously free,
No shackles constraining his will to decree
Its chosen expression, exquisitely bright,
Displaying his character, skill, and delight.
Of how much more glory God’s handiwork sings,
Parading a story of praiseworthy things,
Of wisdom, of judgment, of truth, grace, and love,
Of priceless redemption and life up above.
You don’t need my heart, Lord; you don’t need my praise.
You don’t need my worship or penitent ways.
You don’t need my service, my strength, or my song.
I’m just Your creation; they’re Yours all along.
But oh, how I wonder and sing and rejoice,
My pride torn asunder at Your sovereign choice
To paint for Your pleasure a person like me,
A part of your picture forever to be.
Ed Morris, 2008
The Resurrection
Strange the angels’ striking story
To the bringers of perfume:
As foretold, the Lord of glory
Was no longer in the tomb.
John and Peter saw His wrappings.
Mary lingered at the scene.
Each at first was puzzled, grappling:
What could all these wonders mean?
Hallelujah! Christ has risen!
He’s alive forevermore!
Death could no more Him imprison
Than a boast could win a war.
And His resurrection power
Raised us, too, through faith, with Him.
As the bulb bursts forth in flower,
We now have new life within.
Sin, the sting of death, is broken;
Jesus bore its penalty.
God, in raising Christ, has spoken,
(Just and Justifier, He!)
By His pardon access making:
We can know Him as He is.
And in knowing we’re partaking
Of the endless life that’s His.
Born of God with life eternal,
Not our own, but Christ within,
What a guarantee supernal
Of a future free from sin!
Christ in us, the hope of glory,
We in Him, forever His,
Rich the resurrection story,
Blest our promised prospect is.
Ed Morris, 2008
The Servant
See the Servant of the Lord,
By the Prophets underscored,
Well-delighting God’s own soul,
Chosen One we now extol,
But by mankind most abhorred,
Glorious Servant of the Lord!
Faithful Servant, just and true,
Sin and failure never knew,
Calmly working what was right,
Not disheartened by our spite,
Nor by what He had to do,
Knowing all that would ensue.
Skillful Servant, keen and wise,
E’er perceived the slickest guise.
Sharpened arrow from God’s bow,
Piercing hearts of friend and foe,
Laying bare our secret lies,
Yet with tender, loving eyes.
Gentle Servant, mild and meek,
Friend of battered reeds so weak,
Raising neither cry nor plea,
Showing sinners sympathy,
E’en when turning other cheek—
Greater love no tongue can speak!
Humble Servant, daily stirred
By His Father’s constant word,
Living in obedient trust
In the God whose ways are just.
Though reproaches He endured,
Vindication was assured.
See the wonder of His grace!
Like a flint He set His face,
More than any man was marred,
For His life had no regard,
Bore the curse for Adam’s race,
Took the sinner’s guilty place.
Yet His suffering at our hand
Was the Father’s perfect plan.
Sweetest smelling sacrifice,
Fully paid sin’s awful price
By His death at God’s command,
Showing forth His glory grand.
Noble Servant, thus outpoured,
This Your well-deserved reward:
Kings and princes will bow down
And confess Your rightful crown.
Ever be Your name adored,
Blessed Servant of the Lord!
Ed Morris, 2008
The Champion
The stalwart soldiers shrank in fear and trembled to a man
Before a feral fiend who stood six cubits and a span.
In armor unassailable he boasted of his might.
The enemy of justice challenged each and all to fight.
No mortal man could match this wicked warrior from his youth;
For forty days he taunted them, to prove this awful truth.
He made them feel their weakness and the fix that they were in:
They’d surely be his servants since they had no hope to win.
The Lord looked down with deep concern and saw their dreadful plight.
The devil’s power displeased Him, so He bared His arm for fight.
To brave the biggest battlefield, the Father sent His Son.
Though slighted by His brothers, from His task He would not run.
No armor would He carry as He faced the foe alone:
The weapons of His choosing were a shepherd’s sling and stone.
His lambs He would deliver from the lion’s loathsome jaws.
He knew that God was with Him in His right and worthy cause.
The giant scoffed in hatred and his challenger disdained.
He thought the show was over and the victory he’d gained.
He’d crucify this lowly youth and feed him to the birds.
The truth he failed to recognize: The battle is the Lord’s.
Forthwith to fight the felon did our daring David charge.
No need to fear death’s savage spear, though weaver’s beam-like large.
His rival had no chance because the Lord he had defied,
And on the name of that same Lord, God’s chosen Man relied.
He slung His stone and sank it deep to crush the serpent’s head.
He took the brute’s great brawny blade and with it smote him dead.
And having thus disarmed the powers of sin and hell arrayed,
A glorious triumph over them He publicly displayed.
The Victor’s spoils, so well-deserved: great riches and a bride.
Our souls are knit to His in love; with Him we now abide.
Like Jonathan, we give to Him our royal robe and sword:
The right to reign is His alone, our Champion and our Lord.
Ed Morris, 2007
Gospel Glory
Radiant rays of gospel glory:
See them in the Savior’s face!
Streaming, gleaming, broadly beaming,
Shedding light in every place.
You who dwell in depths of darkness,
Daylight dawns and starts to shine,
Glowing, growing, starkly showing
Sinful flesh and truth divine.
In that blinding blaze the blackness
Of your soul can feign no smile.
Stressing, pressing, sore distressing,
Sin now shows so cruel and vile.
Do not love the night of slumber;
Let the Lord of light shine in.
Living, giving, all-forgiving,
He alone can save and clean.
For that light of God most holy
Tells a tale of glorious grace.
Caring, bearing sins so glaring,
Willingly He takes our place.
See salvation’s splashing splendor!
View those vivid, vibrant tones!
Dying, buying, justifying,
Jesus justly claims His own.
In the Savior’s resurrection
God displays His dazzling might,
Seeing, freeing, guaranteeing
Life with Christ as saints in light.
In our hearts the Lord has entered,
Sweetly lavished lustrous love,
Welling, swelling, ever telling
Of that perfect light above.
Now we walk in warmth and wonder;
His dear presence is our light.
Hearing, cheering, hindrance-clearing,
He will steer our steps aright.
Then one day in greater grandeur
We’ll behold His brilliant hues,
Gazing, praising—grace amazing!—
Gladly glimpsing glorious views.
Ed Morris, 2007
Redemption Joy
Lord, we thank You for redemption; how we joy to be Your own,
To belong as blood-bought children to the Father and the Son!
Why God set His love upon us is a mystery sublime;
In His charity He chose us from before the start of time,
And He sent His Son to save us by His sovereign grace alone.
Lord, we thank You for redemption; how we joy to be Your own!
Oh, the precious price of pardon that You paid at Calvary!
What a privilege our portion to be purchased perfectly.
Make our hearts respond with gladness to Your sober words so true:
“You are not your own; I’ve bought you,” so our souls belong to You,
And we find our satisfaction glorifying You alone.
Lord, we thank You for redemption; how we joy to be Your own!
What a pleasure and a purpose to be servants of the Lord!
We’re enslaved to sin no longer; now our Master we adore,
For His yoke is soft and steady when we’re with Him step-by-step,
And though still we sometimes stumble, He is quick to pick us up,
And our work has worth eternal when it’s done for Him alone.
Lord, we thank You for redemption; how we joy to be Your own!
Oh, the raptured bliss of being our Beloved’s bright-eyed bride,
And to love the One who loves us, longs to call us to His side!
How His priceless promise thrills us: we will see Him as He is,
And we’ll be with Him forever, fit for Him and fully His,
Bringing joy to Him who’s worthy for His wondrous work well-done.
Lord, we thank You for redemption; how we joy to be Your own!
Ed Morris, 2007
May be sung to the tune of The Glory of His Presence.
Treasures of God’s Fullness
What glorious treasures, Lord, in You we see,
O perfect Light of holy Deity,
Where God was pleased to make His fullness dwell,
And in Your fullness we delight as well!
In You we see the fullness of God’s grace,
Coming from glory to the lowest place,
Made sin for sinful, undeserving man,
Purchased our prized place in redemption’s plan.
In You we see the fullness of God’s truth,
About Your Father’s business from Your youth.
Your words stand fast, no guile, no impure parts,
Discerner of each motive of our hearts.
In You we see the fullness of God’s love,
Love of a tender Father up above,
Love that came down and looked upon our needs,
Love that still carries our infirmities.
In You the fullness of God’s joy we see,
Transcending sorrow of the shameful tree,
Delighting in Your saving work well done,
Joy in Your fruit who joy to be Your own.
Oh, thrill our hearts with all Your fullness grand!
Each taste is rich, sweet blessing from Your hand!
O Bread of Life, O God-revealing Word,
We long for deeper knowledge of You, Lord!
Ed Morris, 2007
May be sung to the tune Ellers or Eventide (Abide With Me).
Crucified With Jesus
I am crucified with Jesus,
It is no more I who live,
I am well content with weakness,
Perfect power to receive,
And the life He now lives in me
Is my only righteousness.
Jesus gave His own self for me,
How can I desire less?
When my soul goes down to Egypt
To indulge in worldly thought,
And I’m living for my pleasure,
Not for Him by whom I’m bought,
May He rescue me from bondage
With His title to forgive.
Since I’m crucified with Jesus,
My own life I cannot live.
When I’m feasting on the manna
From my Savior’s vast array
In the holy heav’nly places
Where His blood has made a way,
How the old things are supplanted
By the new in Christ my Lord.
Crucified and raised with Jesus,
Wondrous life in me outpoured!
When I see the One who loves me
In His splendor on the throne,
Any glory He bestows me
Will be His and not my own,
And the scars of my Redeemer
Will outshine the crowns for me.
I am crucified with Jesus,
Linked to Him eternally.
Ed Morris, 2001
Jehovah-jireh
From time everlasting in glory above
The Almighty God had one consummate love.
His only begotten, His daily delight,
In all of His fullness partaking by right.
Then who is this bondman, a sacrifice made,
On Calvary’s altar for burnt offering laid?
O solemn fulfillment! O heart-breaking plan!
The Lord has provided Himself a dear Lamb!
No mind can conceive the distress that ensues:
The holy Lord Jesus, Jehovah must bruise.
But, counting the prize worth immeasurable pain,
He bears all the suffering, redemption to gain.
And now it is finished; the work is all done.
What joy for the Father to raise His dear Son!
And as ransomed children, loved thus to the end,
We share in His bliss; how His glories transcend!
Ed Morris, 1993 (Revised 1994)
Wondrous Expectation
With wondrous expectation, Lord,
We wait Your Spirit now;
Oh, may our hearts with one accord
In humble worship bow.
Grant us to set ourselves aside
That we might newly be,
As one with all Your sanctified,
To honor You set free.
Then we’ll behold Your radiant face
As in us all You frame
A harmony of sweetest praise
To Your most precious name.
Not ours alone, but Your delight
So graciously to share
A future glimpse, a glorious sight,
Of how we’ll praise You there!
Yes, You will soon to us impart
To sing in spotless dress
Your highest name, Your kindest heart,
Your perfect worthiness.
Ed Morris, 1993 (Revised 1996)
The Rest of the Story
Out of the eater comes something to eat,
Shrouded in savagery, savor still sweet;
Hellish inhumanness holds in her womb
Heavenly holiness, beauty pre-bloom.
Sunrise allures for the cold midnight past,
Feasting is finest preceded by fast,
Rescue more lauded the fiercer the fire,
God more creative for making from mire.
No stirring story is cinched on page one,
No cross explained till the crown has been won,
No Savior risen who once was not dead,
No woe awaiting where God has not led.
Ed Morris, 2012
Judgment Day
When the thunder rolls as the big bell tolls
And the earth dissolves in smoke,
When you feel the flame of the holy Name
And you know it’s not a joke,
When the dizzy fright of the dazzling light,
As it soaks clear through your soul,
Makes you bow the knee and submit your plea
Can you say which way you’ll roll?
Will you curse and swear that it’s just not fair
For it’s not how you’d supposed,
And you’d hate to stay in the righteous sway
Of a Sovereign unopposed?
Might you deem it wrong that you’ve been so long
Thinking what you loved was God,
Just to find that He had no aim to be
The fulfillment of your fraud?
Will you gaze amazed at a beauty raised
To a height you’d never dreamed?
Will you sense inside this is why you’d sighed
For a perfect love, it seemed?
Will the God you see evidently be
What you’d yearned for all along,
Though you could not know when you lived below
That your ardor was so strong?
What you worship now will be yours somehow
When the judgment throne you face.
If you want to run from the Sacred Son,
Then you’ll never praise His grace.
If your true desire is a tiny fire
Just to know Him as your Lord,
Then your soul’s esteemed for it’s been redeemed
And you’ll welcome your reward.
Ed Morris, 2012
Mirror Dimly
Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
Can you image God at all?
Peer through dark and dull distortion:
In your heart a homeless orphan,
Vast eternity’s proportion,
Softly sighs its lonesome call.
Mirror, mirror, on the tree,
What of God may mortals see?
Picture for your comprehension
Truth transposed to man’s dimension:
Holy love’s divine intention
In your pauper’s place to be.
Mirror, mirror, in the sky,
Beam you light from God on high?
Find in faith a fit reflection
Of the Crucified’s perfection
Reckoned yours in resurrection:
God and man forever nigh.
Ed Morris, 2012
Eternal God
Before the mountains soared on high
Beneath a silent, starlit sky,
Mere mortal minds to mystify,
From everlasting You are God.
We live our lives, and change, and grow,
And laugh, and mourn, and terror know,
And empires come, and empires go,
And all the while You still are God.
We moil at mysteries dark and deep,
And agonize, and lose our sleep,
Forgetting that we are but sheep,
And You, our Shepherd, are true God.
So teach us, Lord, to see our days
As numbered by Your sovereign ways
And find truth, trust, love, peace, and praise
In holy, changeless, awesome God.
Ed Morris, 2011
Questions
Is faith a dream, a spell, a trick?
A hope deferred, a heart grown sick?
A distant ache for Eden fair?
A ghastly dagger to beware?
Must doctrine charm, then chase away
The light of reason’s cloudy day,
By mystic mantras to possess
Enfeebled minds with confidence?
Lord, save me from the smug pretense
That dares no question dire, intense,
But while I crave this virtue true,
Pray, rescue from my questions, too.
Ed Morris, 2011
Theodicy of Redemption
“Be glad and rejoice forever in what I create...” - Isaiah 65:18What mind unfurled this whirling world
So graced with glimpse of glory?
On wanton wings my spirit sings
Creation’s staggering story.
It does not last; I mull, aghast,
Life, meaningless and feeble:
The doleful drone poor mortals moan
Of pain and death and evil.
A God whose hand each detail planned?
Such talk seems sick and twisted!
A perfect place—a perfect race—
He’d make if He existed.
Yet thus how quaint such crude complaint
Of clay against its molder!
Had I a yen to not have been,
My clamor could be bolder.
I can’t explain why God should deign
To fashion faulty creatures,
But what I see in you and me
Are not our final features.
The Lord above of grace and love
Has work as yet unfinished:
The heavens and earth will see rebirth
With glory undiminished.
Redemption’s song for those who long
To be God’s children, holy,
Can praise His name and spread His fame
Who meets their passion fully.
Ed Morris, 2011
Walk on Water
Stay safe in the boat is everyone’s vote;
Trust God in the time-honored way.
Our absolutes sound form such a firm ground;
Don’t question or throw that away.
But are we so sure their craft can endure
The hurricanes, howling and grave?
I’d rather be near the Lord I hold dear
Who wills me to walk on the wave.
With faith ebbing low, I can’t say I know
If lacking foundation I’ll float.
But Truth is out there; the risk I must bear
And seek Him outside of the boat.
With each step I take, I know I forsake
All hope of return to my stay.
The surf crashes high; in panic I cry
And sense myself sinking away.
Then seizing my hand, He sets me to stand:
A Savior who needs not a boat.
He shows Himself real, though still I can’t feel
Precisely what keeps me afloat.
The Lord of the seas, with infinite ease,
Has power to protect by His plan.
He gives what we need to trust Him indeed
Without the stock constructs of man.
So don’t be afraid, though friends be dismayed,
Your searchings and doubts to explore.
You’ll find Him more true for all you go through
Whom having not seen you’ll adore.
Ed Morris, 2010
The Fringes of His Ways
He flings the galaxies in time and watches their unfolding;
Their ordered vastness still reveals the world His hands are molding.
There’s not an atom out of place, no creature’s reach or yearning,
His reign unthwarted even when His praise our ways are spurning.
These whispered wisps of how He works so hush our hearts with wonder,
Could we expect or be inclined to comprehend His thunder?
No man can stand or hold in hand His holy judgment’s terror.
His fury burns unquenchably and knows no trace of error,
Yet moves mysteriously to Him whose love is all perfection,
The wrath to bear in conquest there and win the resurrection.
These whispered wisps of how He works so hush our hearts with wonder,
Could we expect or be inclined to comprehend His thunder?
He shakes the heavens, then is still, till once more He will rend them,
But distant echoes linger long for those who apprehend them.
In soft, slow strains He stoops to speak for infant ears to hear Him,
Our questions to dissolve in tears of thanks to love and fear Him.
These whispered wisps of how He works so hush our hearts with wonder,
Could we expect or be inclined to comprehend His thunder?
Ed Morris, 2010
(Based on Job 26:14)
Make Us Thankful
Make us thankful people, Lord,
For Your glorious gifts outpoured,
Lavish treasures from Your heart,
Boundless blessing to impart.
Thankful for the gifts of life,
Beauty, joy, and rest from strife,
Mountain snow and springtime rain,
Home and hearth and country lane.
Thankful for Your tender care,
For Your sheep a sumptuous fare.
Thankful for Your guiding hand,
Though we little understand.
Thankful, too, for grief and pain,
Hurts that make our hearts complain,
Dredging out our fleshly ways,
Shaping us to show Your grace.
Thankful most of all for Christ,
Precious saving sacrifice,
Gift to whom all others point,
Who will never disappoint.
Make us thankful people, Lord,
Your blest Name to be adored,
Seeing love in each detail,
Knowing joy will hence prevail.
Ed Morris, 2009
Why Are You Cast Down, My Soul?
Why are you cast down, my soul, and why in such despair?
The heartaches God has granted you in no way can compare
To joys unknown to be revealed when faith gives way to sight
And Christ your Crown fills all your view and drives away your night.
My God, I choose to hope in You, the Helper of my soul.
I’ll praise Your grand and loving plan though billows o’er me roll.
I’ll worship You for all You do and in each test delight:
Each joy, each tear, each doubt, each fear—all in Your purpose bright.
Ed Morris, 2009
The Emmaus Road
Some poor stranger strolled beside them
On their long and lonely walk.
Kind and wise, He gently plied them,
Why such sadness in their talk?
How their hearts within were burning
When His wondrous Word He taught!
Precious lessons they were learning,
Though they recognized Him not.
So when worries of desertion
Your emotions overtake,
And you question God’s assertion
That He never will forsake,
Let your soul embrace the tidings
Ringing from this tale so true:
Even when the Lord is hiding,
He is still right there with you!
Ed Morris, 2008
God’s Train
Whooo-whooooooo! Hisssssss....
Chuuug-ga, chug-ga, chug-ga, chug-ga,
Chug-ga, chug-ga, chug-ga, chug....
Restless passengers grow antsy
At each stop along the track,
And the route ahead looks chancy
Where it curves and doubles back,
And the engine groans and grumbles
As it makes each mountain climb,
And they hear each others’ mumbles,
Wondering if they’re late on time,
And they picture fearful “gotchas,”
Hazards fate might at them throw,
And they check their pocket watches,
Though the schedule they don’t know.
Whooo-whooooooo! Hisssssss....
Chuuug-ga, chug-ga, chug-ga, chug-ga,
Chug-ga, chug-ga, chug-ga, chug....
But we need not fret nor worry
On this course we cannot chart;
The Conductor’s in no hurry,
And He knows the run by heart,
And the Engineer, so skillful,
Chooses just how hard to drive;
Every move He makes is willful,
Planned precisely to arrive
At each station, yard, and siding
He’s selected for the line,
And His train of life we’re riding
Is exactly...
Just like always...
RIGHT ON TIME!
Ed Morris, 2008
Not My Will
Part 1:
“Not My will, but Yours be done,”
Prayed the sinless, selfless Son,
God’s determined course to run:
“Not My will, but Yours be done.”
Hail His true humanity,
How He groaned in agony,
Yet the valiant victory won:
“Not My will, but Yours be done.”
Lord, that cup for You prepared
To no pain can be compared.
Dreadful price You had to pay,
“Not My will, but Yours,” to say.
Part 2:
Why should I then struggle so
In my heart that peace to know?
Why such anguish just to say,
“Not my will, but Yours,” each day?
But my cherished hopes still cling
To my thirsts’ unsated sting
With such primal urgency,
“Not my will,” could never be.
So forlorn, my longing soul,
Raw with pangs I can’t control,
Proves the power’s not in me,
“Not my will,” to truly plea.
Part 3:
Fervent yearnings never rest.
Every moment seems a test.
Lord, I need Your strength to bow,
“Not my will,” to want right now.
Grant Your sweet, sufficient grace
From my heart Your name to praise.
Set my mind on things above,
Not my will, but Yours to love.
For the blessings can’t be told
When a selfish will You mold
For the glory of God’s Son—
Not my will, but Yours be done!
Ed Morris, 2008
The Walk of Faith
While seeking to stay on the strait, narrow way
I encountered a fork in the road,
And although neither track from the journey turned back,
Still my footsteps I thoughtfully slowed.
I bowed to the Lord, giving thanks for His Word
And the guidance He’d surely bestow:
“Dear Father, I pray, give me wisdom to say
Which direction You’d have me to go.”
The knowledge I sought was a comforting thought,
For He’d tell me just where each way led
So that I could decide on which course I should stride
By judging the path up ahead.
But the harder I peered the more dim it appeared
No matter which route I addressed,
So with uncertain sigh I’d no choice but to try
The one that I hoped would be best.
My confidence soared, singing praise to the Lord,
When through flowery meadows I passed,
And I started to dream of the mountainous stream
Where I knew I’d be drinking at last.
By this fancy possessed I then thought myself blessed
As the way wound o’er beautiful bluff,
But, my fears soon realized, I felt sorely chastised
When the track turned impassably rough.
My thoughts smoldered black as I had to turn back,
And I wondered where God was that day,
For as I retraced, it seemed such a waste,
And I felt He had led me astray.
Confused and deceived, all the grace I’d received
Was hard to esteem at the time,
But the lessons I learned as my face with shame burned
Were a gift from God’s storehouse sublime.
Now oft are the days when I think of the ways
That the Lord leads His own by the hand,
And as the years pass I’m beginning to grasp
How each detour is part of His plan.
Though we long for sight to see through the night
And pick the best path on display,
We never would choose the course God would use
If He showed us the trials on the way.
God grants us indeed all the wisdom we need
When we ask with a heart that is true,
But it isn’t the way that I’d hoped for that day,
When I thought He would open my view.
We don’t need to know where each pathway will go;
The future is not ours to see.
We just need to trust in the God who is just
And delight in wherever He leads.
Ed Morris, 2008
Calvary’s Call
Hear, O heart, the call of Calvary!
Sweet the soft, persistent sound!
Bids us bask in boundless blessing
Where abundant life is found.
Will we wallow in our weakness
With the wealth of God so near?
Lift our eyes, Lord! Plant before them
Calvary’s source of strength and cheer.
When assailed by sin so shameful
We abhor our flesh, aghast,
May the cross of Christ remind us
Of forgiveness, free and vast.
When we’re weary, worn, and woeful,
Dour, despondent, and depressed,
May the tree that sweetened Marah
Grant refreshment, joy, and rest.
When our hearts grow cold and distant,
Drifting after worldly lure,
What besides the cross can stir them,
With its voice of love so sure?
Keep us close, O Christ, to Calvary!
Stay our wayward, wandering minds.
Fix our focus on that fountain
Where Your glory brightest shines!
Ed Morris, 2008
Pity Parties
Pity parties are the pits.
Though you feel at end of wits,
Keep from pining, inward whining;
Don’t let Satan land his hits.
Jesus promised perfect joy
E’en when sorrows sore annoy.
Just believe it to receive it;
Faith’s a tool you must employ.
God has work for us below,
Much more glorious than we know.
If you’re willing, life fulfilling
You’ll find as you serve and grow.
Ed Morris, 2007
Dedicated to Bonnie Frank, author of the first line.
The Joy of Tears
You’ve known the moan of heavy heart;
You’ve worn the wear of weary years.
Depression’s played its painful part,
But have you known the joy of tears?
You sigh and mourn from morn to night;
Your spirit pours perpetual prayers.
And time no answer brings to sight,
But have you learned the joy of tears?
You know God’s plan works all for good;
His love your silent heartache hears.
In theory this you’ve understood,
But have you felt the joy of tears?
The Savior weeps with weeping souls;
He deeply sorrows, suffers, cares.
How sweetly He can thus console,
Who knows Himself the joy of tears.
Why should we trial and grief abhor,
Which hold us to His heart so dear?
Through them He makes us love Him more
And richly live the joy of tears.
This time of testing that He grants
Will only last a few more years.
The present is our only chance
To praise Him in the joy of tears.
Lord, grow us in Your glorious grace
Until Your image so appears
That we can spread Your smiling face
And thank You for the joy of tears.
Ed Morris, 2007
Encouragement from Jehoshaphat
When the burden of your battle is too big for you to bear,
And bewildered and discouraged you cry out to God in prayer,
“Lord, You rule o’er earth and heaven, and salvation comes from You,
But my situation’s hopeless—I just don’t know what to do!”
So you fix your eyes on Jesus, knowing nowhere else to run,
Then you’re right where God has brought you, in the presence of His Son!
Oh, the sweetness of the fellowship when gazing on His face!
Oh, the blessing of dependence on the Lord of sovereign grace!
What a bliss to know He loves you as you see His glory shine!
What a peace to hear His answer, “This is not your war, but Mine!”
You can face your foe with fearlessness; you will not have to fight,
So just take your stand in stillness and behold His saving might!
Trust in God and be established and believe His Word so true.
Praise and thank Him for His mercy and His faithfulness to you.
Sing with joy whatever happens; He is working for your good.
Let your knowledge of His wisdom reassure you as it should.
Looking back from heaven’s vantage you will understand His plan,
And you’ll glory in His greatness and His wondrous thoughts to man!
For the day is drawing nearer when the battle will be o’er,
And these trials and temptations will be testing you no more,
And the One who won the victory so valiantly each day,
Gaining just the goal He sought for, though He seemed so far away,
Will rejoice to have you with Him, in His holy beauty, too,
And you’ll prize the precious privilege of the part He’s given you!
Ed Morris, 2006
(Based on 2 Chronicles 20)
Sovereign Love
Happy children on the seashore
Swallowed swiftly by God’s wave!
Now enjoying His creation,
Now engulfed in briny grave.
Sovereign Lord, the world You order
Wretched, cruel often is!
Dread disaster’s in Your purpose,
And You tell us You are love??
Senseless act of hateful terror
Coolly planned by monstrous men!
Brazenly they murder thousands
Just to celebrate their end.
Sovereign Lord, the world You order
Heinous, evil often is!
Satan’s schemes are in Your purpose,
And You tell us You are good??
Grieving widow, comfort failing,
In a large and empty house,
Sobbing, pleading, praying, wailing,
Did God have to take her spouse?
Sovereign Lord, the world You order
Woeful, lonely often is!
Trials grave are in Your purpose,
And You tell us You are near??
Cross where Christ, the Lord of heaven,
Writhes in agony unknown,
Bearing grief and separation,
All for sin, but not His own.
Sovereign Lord, Your glorious power,
Works all things the way You will.
You could do whatever pleased You,
And You chose a path of pain??
Silently God lets us ponder
His great wisdom’s perfect plan:
Love that shines through deepest darkness,
Death, and futile thoughts of man.
Teach us, Lord, to fear and trust You
With a peace that’s from above.
Make us know Your presence with us
And delight in sovereign love!
Ed Morris, 2006
Faith More Precious Than Gold
Although now, for a while,
Sore distressed by grievous trial,
And your love for your Lord may grow cold,
You are shielded by Him,
To His hope you’re born again,
And your faith is more precious than gold.
How intense is the fire
Of your grief and deep desire
And the pain of the sob of your soul;
Of God’s plan you’re afraid,
And by Him you feel betrayed,
But your faith is more precious than gold.
Though He slay, you can trust
Him who made you out of dust;
He is still the same God as of old.
Though you can’t see Him now,
Still you love Him anyhow
With your faith that’s more precious than gold.
God is now glorified
When in Him you still abide
And His fruit of endurance show bold.
You’re the work of His hand,
And on Him you must depend,
So your faith is more precious than gold.
You can greatly rejoice
In His name and in His choice
More like Jesus your being to mold.
So then run to the Lord,
To His side and to His Word;
Put to practice this faith more than gold.
When you flee thus in prayer
And experience His care,
Then the proof of your faith will be told.
Though some pain might remain,
You’ll thank God for all the rain,
For you’ll know your faith’s worth more than gold.
And this faith has an end
That you’ll better comprehend:
The salvation and life of your soul,
An inheritance sweet,
Bowing at your Savior’s feet,
Praising Him for this gift more than gold.
Ed Morris, 2004
(Based on 1 Peter 1:3-9)
I Am Not Far From Home
All through this barren land I wander,
Longing for rest;
Why does it seem so hard, I ponder;
Why such a load on my breast?
All the world seems sad and drearyWhen reeling under sore temptations,
Everywhere I roam,
Then I realize that the Lord is near me;
I am not far from home.
Often I fall,
But Jesus, still with perfect patience,
Answers my faintest call.
Though the world seems sad and drearyHis look conveys forgiveness ever;
Everywhere I roam,
He, my tender Shepherd, loves to hear me;
I am not far from home.
His voice so mild,
“Keep trusting till the journey’s over;
I’ll not forsake you, child.”
Though the world seems sad and drearyAnd soon, O thought beyond all fathom,
Everywhere I roam,
What a comfort that my Saviour’s near me;
I am not far from home.
His face we’ll see;
So shall we evermore be with Him,
Like Him, in victory!
Though the world seems sad and dreary
Everywhere I roam,
How that blessed hope prevails to cheer me:
I am not far from home.
Ed Morris, 1994 (Revised 1998)
To the tune of S’wanee River (Old Folks at Home)
He Came
We sing a wondrous story
With all the ransomed throng;
Our Savior came from glory
And filled our heart with song.
He came to still the storm we started,
Heal the heavy-hearted,
Open up the floodgates of the Father’s loving store;
He came to bear the baneful burden,
Pay the price of pardon,
Rise again to live forevermore.
He calls to all who fear Him
And hunger for His voice;
By faith you’ll sweetly hear Him
And in His song rejoice:
I’ve come to still the storm you started,
Heal the heavy-hearted,
Open up the floodgates of the Father’s loving store;
I’ve come to bear your baneful burden,
Pay the price of pardon;
You will live with Me forevermore.
Ed Morris, 2009
Click here to hear the tune (MIDI file) (MP3 version of MIDI file)
Testimony of a Lost Sheep
A frightened lamb, I cried and ran,
Not knowing which direction
Would lead me home, no more to roam
From comfort and protection.
A lion roared, the torrent poured,
Then on the rocks I stumbled.
Now torn and bruised, forlorn, confused,
My hopes in darkness crumbled.
But when I knew I could not do
One thing to find salvation,
The Shepherd came and called my name;
He knew my desperation.
His calming voice my heart rejoiced,
And in my joy I pondered
Why He should care my life to spare
Who willfully had wandered.
’Twas not that I by helpless cry
Could win His choice and favor.
’Twas just that He’d in grace decreed
To be my only Savior.
So in His arms, won by His charms,
I’ll praise His name who found me.
To Him I’ll cling, His worth I’ll sing,
His loveliness surrounds me.
Ed Morris, 2009
Click here to hear the tune (MIDI file) (MP3 version of MIDI file)
Unrequited Love
You longed for her to be your wife;
She did not share your will.
Now in your heart’s a stabbing knife—
Love her still.
Her loveliness your soul perceived,
Her gentle beauty’s light.
It shines as fair though you’re bereaved—
Love her right.
Hope not in dreams that she’ll be yours;
To such you must say no!
Respect her choice to close those doors—
Love lets go.
A rich reflection of Himself
In her God did create;
In heaven’s day you’ll know its wealth—
Love can wait.
The privilege is yours to learn
A love of godly breed,
Demanding nothing in return—
Love, not need.
A precious gem to Christ is she
For whom He shed His blood.
He loves His children perfectly—
Love like God.
Be thankful for her every bliss
That stirs your mind to love
The Lord Himself and all of His,
And taste His kind of love.
Ed Morris, 2009
The Source of Love
Let not my love for you be mine to choose
As though I merely willed it to effuse
From somewhere in my fickle heart and mind
For reasons I could search my soul and find.
It isn’t that the reasons seem too weak:
They tell me that you’re everything I seek.
I marvel at the things you say and do
And thank the Lord each day for making you.
Your beauty beams and steals my breath away.
Your talents gleam like jewels on display.
Your gentle spirit, kindly smile, and voice
Are sweeter songs that make my heart rejoice.
Your grandest gift by which I’m still more awed
Is what I’ve seen in your pure love for God.
Small wonder that my heart outright admires
The woman who such wondrous thought inspires.
But all this mighty cause for wanting you
Could never guarantee my love was true.
For who am I to call such feelings love
Unless they be confirmed by God above?
My admiration’s real, I trust you know,
But human thoughts and motives ebb and flow.
The love I crave’s a much more glorious thing
That only from the Lord could ever spring.
Could such a love be mine by simple choice,
I never would have heard your pleasant voice.
For oft before, I’ve tried those flames to fan
When that was not the Savior’s perfect plan.
So I resolve to wait and trust each day
Until He makes me know somehow, some way,
That what I feel is not a fleeting whim,
But true enduring love bestowed by Him.
And if this longing prayer He should fulfill,
I’ll joyfully commit my heart and will
To peerless love that lasts at any price,
Believes, and bears, and shuns no sacrifice.
For when two hearts are joined by God as one,
They form a princely picture of His Son.
Those who the Father gives to Him will know
His love supreme that to the cross would go.
For thus the sovereign Lord’s effectual word
Ensures the hearts of His elect are stirred.
By His design their love for Him will sprout,
And in His love they know no fear nor doubt.
So I’ll not stew nor strive your love to gain,
Nor could my labors such a prize obtain.
The Lord in whom by grace we richly live
Alone can choose His perfect love to give.
Ed Morris, 2007
A Pleasant Longing
I loved a phantom; she loved me.
We lived, as happy as could be.
But then—oh, how my poor heart broke
When from my reverie I woke.
My minutes march, though years have flown,
With one undying undertone.
Though you may see me still the same,
My heart’s now haunted by a dream.
(My heart is haunted by a dream...)
Ed Morris, 2007
The Hairy Tick
Of all the critters men have cursed,
The hateful hairy tick is worst.
His charm conceals a crudest quest
To snag you in his noxious nest.
Beware his lure! Don’t cross that line!
His bite will blight your nimble mind!
Once fooled, your failed defense will flee:
You’ll be as false and foul as he.
You’ll kiss your intellect goodbye.
You’ll sprout a vile, predacious eye
To watch for weaker wits than you
And crush them in your quagmire, too.
But if you fear the hairy tick,
Don’t fall for his most scary trick:
The more you crucify this crook,
The more like him you’ll start to look!
Ed Morris, 2012
The Swill to Believe
“A man convinced against his will
Is of the same opinion still”—
But try your best, will as you might,
You know you’ll never make it right.
A truer rhyme I now propose,
Our feckless follies to expose:
“A man convinced by simple will
Has surely swigged some sturdy swill.”
Ed Morris, 2011
(with apologies to William James, author of a famous philosophical essay entitled The Will to Believe.)
Ode to the Failure of Modern Philosophy to Defeat Skepticism
Poor ol’ Pyrrho, he’s the hero
Of my somber poetry:
Couldn’t figure how to pick your
Core beliefs with certainty.
Bold Descartes, he got the party
Started with his Cogito.
Up popped Pyrrho (what a zero!),
Said to think is not to know.
Next, John Locke, he tried his luck; he
Claimed true knowledge must appear
By consensus of the senses,
But just how, he wasn’t clear.
David Hume, an ornery human,
Stripped Sir Science of support.
Just one reason he could seize on:
Custom is our sheer resort.
Kant, the strange one, said, now hang on;
For what’s really real don’t fuss:
Be content to just consent to
What our minds make real to us.
Lastly, Hegel scored a bagel
With his dialectic ways:
Synthesizing’s just surmising
When you have no solid base.
Oh, bewail their learned failure
To make absolutely sure
Of the theories man can fear he’s
Welcomed with a false allure!
As for poor ol’ Pyrrho’s moral,
Which I think we should applaud:
Don’t be blurtin’ that you’re certain—
You are just a man, not God.
Ed Morris, 2011
If Everything Were Simple
If everything were simple it would shape just like a brain,
And I’d take it out and look at it and never feel a pain,
And I’d pity poorer mortals who didn’t care if it were true,
For the clear and simple reasons that explained their shallow view,
And my life would be a pleasure with no pondering to annoy,
For there wouldn’t be a single loose end to tie up...
Ed Morris, 2011
Blake’s Mistake
“Don’t tell your love,” the sage advised,
“Or you will never get her.”
“Well said!” the swain soliloquized,
“But silence works no better.”
Ed Morris, 2007
(With apologies to William Blake, author of Love’s Secret.)
Cucumber Pie
Are cucumbers cool
As a general rule?
How fresh is a daisy?
Are loons always crazy?
How snug is a bug
When he’s not in a rug?
How gentle are lambs?
How happy are clams?
How clever’s a fox
That’s as dumb as an ox?
How fit is a fiddle?
As clean as a whistle?
Are doornails more dead
Than a dodo bird’s head?
Is the deafness of posts
More than four hundred roasts?
Such puzzles befuddle and much mystify
Till suddenly you see they’re as easy as pie!
Ed Morris, 2007
Poetry that Isn’t
What wafting of wisdom! Such saccharine sound!
Deft diction’s depictions, opaque and profound!
So ruminants rumble and mumble and seek
To mine out much marrow, obtuse and oblique.
My constant conundrum’s more crude and perverse:
I strive not to retch at such wretched non-verse.
Fair finery flops if its form foully flows:
Each clash, pull, and smash smells of emperor’s clothes.
You poets who pass pompous prose off as poem,
Go home!
Ed Morris, 2007
This page copyright © 2001-2013 Edward A. Morris. Created May 4, 2001. Last updated April 12, 2013.