During the night

It’s a strange thing, at times almost beautiful
though amidst a scene of desolation, the peace
that descends in all quietude on the place
where once a great house stood
that has gone up in flames during the night,
leaving whisps of smoke curling to a soft morning breeze
and, underfoot, littered invisibly
among charred, fallen timbers, glowing embers.

Or as Job, having finally fallen asleep
where he lay alone in the ash pit scraping his sores,
abandoned there by his faithless wife
who had mocked him, ‘Why persist in your blamelessness?
Curse God, and die!’ is suddenly awakened
in the dark night by the almost inaudible voices
of argumentation going on somewhere
in the blackness above him
between his advocate Yahweh and his antagonist,
one claiming to be a son
(or could it have been a daughter) of God,
‘No! He only serves You
because You supply all his needs!
Desert him, and see
how he will curse You to Your face!’

What must be fulfilled will be fulfilled.
The fruit of pride, rebellion and apostasy
remains on the tree a little longer.
Then, without warning, for not having been harvested
its loathesome weight bows the tree down
until finally it splits, exposing light, living wood
within the fissured bark
of the ravaged trunk and branches.
The tree will be cut down, savagely,
by a relentless axe, neither the evil fruits
nor the pain of wrath will be remembered henceforth.
Only the fresh, hopeful sprigs arising
from the otherwise barren stump will bear witness
to what could have been,
will follow the sun in its course,
as He draws them up to Himself.

Saviour of fugitives,
Christ our God,
have mercy on us!
x

Vox populi, vox Dei

Election Day
in one of the world’s oldest republics,
and the spectre of democracy
is allowed to raise its head
for one intense and momentous day.

The Revolution
swept away the bulwarks of monarchy
with all its powerful magic,
never to let it again steal the voice
of the people,
but perpetuating and extending
that voice from sea to shining sea
and to the ends of the earth
till the end of time.

Glorious in aspect,
and fearful, now the will of the people
would be the same as the will of God
—as long as the people were under God,
who alone is their King.

This was the vision,
a first enfleshening of the promise
that God will live among men.
‘And the Word became flesh,
and pitched His tent among us.’

The powerful magic
of monarchs, which let one rule
in the name of God
to the good or ill of the people, is gone.

Now we have
no one but ourselves to praise or to blame
if we set up princes
to rule us in their own names,
who give not the honor and glory
back to the One who alone
sits on the Throne.

Democracy,
even for a moment,
can be a dreadful thing,
or a blessing.

Pray, brethren,
that what our people conceive this night
is not the child of lawlessness, born of adultery.

Pray that the fruit of our tree will be good fruit,
because a tree can be known by its fruit.

Pray that we are still found
to be a good tree bearing good fruit.
‘Yes, even now the ax is laid to the roots
of the trees, so that any tree
which fails to produce good fruit will be cut down
and thrown on the fire.’
x