4/5/20 Through 4/11/20

4/5/20 Through 4/11/20

Sunday

In triumph loud You enter there,

Hosanna cries are everywhere.

Branches waved by children high,

The King of Kings is drawing nigh.

But jealousy is in the air

And evil plots are lurking there.

For thirty silver coins can buy

Betrayal by a wicked spy.

And even those He chose to lead

Denied Him in His greatest need.

As blows came down and scourges rent,

In hiding all His chosen went.

Alone and in the evil's hand

He offered as the Father planned,

A Lamb unblemished without sin

Whose blood would welcome sinners in.

Monday

What is Jesus worth to me?

Check down deep to look and see.

Would others know by looking here

I hold the Lord, to me, so dear?

What have I that shows my love

For One so precious from above?

What sacrifice that's truly hard,

Or costly aromatic nard?

Would all that come to know me see

The Spirit of the Lord in me?

Or just another common face

That knows not of His gift of grace?

Tuesday

So confident in all our ways

But righteousness no more than glaze.

A pottery that's cracked and flawed,

But one that's loved and sought by God.

How can glory come through dying?

Understanding, still I'm trying.

Self-absorbed and lost in me

I lose my sight and trust in Thee.

But in resurrection seeing

All Your truth and thus believing,

I can too, be self-abasing

In each trial I am facing.

Wednesday

Morning after morning

Your word has come to me.
My pen and lips adorning,
As it has set me free.

The truth is truth forever
The same for slave or free.
The choice is to but never,
Be parted far from Thee.

The way of life is dying,
And loving to the end.
Your word forthwith complying,
Though we not comprehend.

Make of me a pot You like
A soft and supple clay,
A vessel strong yet childlike,
And willing to obey.

Cease not to ever come to me
My manna for the day.
Let me beyond the trouble see,
And never You betray.

Thursday
Glorious this priesthood given
Glimpsing into midst of heaven.
Washing feet in chain unbroken,
Through the Mysteries awoken.

Bread and wine upon the altar,
Gospel and prophetic psalter,
Draw the curtain thus revealing,
God of love and tender healing.

Friday
Lord upon the cross forsaken
To this mystery awaken,
All those trapped in sin compelling,
All those still in darkness dwelling.

Spike and thorn now penetrating,
Word and action all berating,
One whose love was boundless given,
One whose blessed side was riven.

Hanging dead, the scene surreal,
But somehow, in the air could feel
That fear began to lose its hold,
As once before, the Dead foretold.

For two once fearful boldly came,
To bury Him who died in shame.
And treat with tenderness and care
The body of this Love so rare.

So fear then shifted to the side
Who worried yet the One who died
Could lift the people's sad and gloom,
And set a guard around the tomb.

Saturday
This day we wait in hope and shame,
Could this be why Messiah came?
To nail upon that fateful wood
All sin for just the sinner's good?

Three years we walked along His side
Our Master and our faithful guide,
But now the One we thought would save
Is dead, and lies in yonder grave.

A sickness in the heart afflicts
And sorrow for our sin convicts.
The Love so pure that once we knew
Was crucified for me and you.

Not much to do but pray this time
And try to out of sorrow climb.
To watch and wait, and hope and pray
We meet again another day.