If it is true, what the Prophets write,
That the heathen gods are all stocks and stones,
Shall we, for the sake of being polite,
Feed them with the juice of our marrow-bones?

And if Bezaleel and Aholiab drew
What the finger of God pointed to their view,
Shall we suffer the Roman and Grecian rods
To compel us to worship them as gods?

They stole them from the temple of the Lord
And worshipp'd them that they might make inspirèd art abhorr'd;

The wood and stone were call'd the holy things,
And their sublime intent given to their kings.
All the atonements of Jehovah spurn'd,
And criminals to sacrifices turn'd.

Thank you for preparing me for baptism.
How better do we learn than from the heart?
A soul can best find joy by sharing grace,
Not being whole except by being part,
Knowing well the ways across that chasm!
Your love shines through your acts as through a prism,
Of all God's gifts, the easiest to trace,
Uniting your sweet labor with His art.

First communion is a mystery
Initiated by an act of faith,
Revealing what both is and cannot be:
Salvation in a small, round piece of cake!
The first time that you eat and drink of Christ,
Communion with Him in your heart begins.
Offer Him your truth with fearless trust;
Make for Him a seat among your sins.
Many think believing must be seeing,
Unwilling to accept that they are loved,
Not for being good, but just for being,
In doubt that God Himself would be so moved.
Only faith can tell you this is true,
Nor could you know but for Christ's love in you.

Bless you, my sweet miracle,
Archangel of my heart!
Pure joy of life, too beautiful
To be a work of art!
In baptism
Such love of Him
May Christ to you impart

Before one reads the Torah, one must be
Alight with love of God, as though a flame
Took refuge in the temple of a heart
Made pure by discipline and holy deeds.
If one read only thus, then one would see
The meaning of the meaning, as the art
Zealously sustains those souls who read
Vested in the glory of The Name.
All of life and death is here in this:
How much one grasps depends on who one is.

Christmas was in the air and all was well
With him, but for a few confusing flaws
In divers of God's images. Because
A friend of his would neither buy nor sell,
Was he to answer for the axe that fell?
He pondered; and the reason for it was,
Partly, a slowly freezing Santa Claus
Upon the corner, with his beard and bell.

Acknowledging an improvident surprise,
He magnified a fancy that he wished
The friend whom he had wrecked were here again.
Not sure of that, he found a compromise;
And from the fulness of his heart he fished
A dime for Jesus who had died for men.

Wedding Poems