7/11/21 Through 7/17/21

 7/11/21 Through 7/17/21

Sunday

From following, I was removed,

And made to lead the way

For so the world was unimproved, 

And darkness ruled the day.

But light You gave for me to shine

As each a torch receive.

In rhyme, Your chosen torch of mine

To hidden things perceive.

To pass along the wisdom gained

From spending time with You,

And loose the one in prison chained

That they may start anew.

Monday

Do not think that peace I bring,

Division is My given thing.

To set apart the good from ill,

And find the ones that do My will.

Unworthy those who shun the cross,

Unwilling those to suffer loss,

For what they save will waste away.

Not so, the humble who obey.

For simple things the Father sees.

The one a righteous man receives,

Or one who simply offers drink,

And does not from the burden shrink.

Tuesday

With miracles the blind shall see,

And wicked come to know

The end of all our sinful spree,

Not where we want to go.

So we must turn around to find

The path to Heaven's door

Where gems of love each day are mined,

And pilgrims search for more.

Wednesday

In the humble holy one

The gifts of God reveal the Son.

As fire burning, not consumed,

A lily from the Mohawks bloomed.

A shepherd in the desert sun

Where burning bush had just begun

Deliverance for those enslaved,

On humble heart, His word engraved.

The Lily too was thus engraved,

And so to love was thus enslaved.

A virgin pure and undefiled,

With loving heart, a little child.

A leader too for all her kin,

A love that many hearts would win.

To childlike our God revealed

What heretofore had been concealed.

Be not afraid to lead the way

When chosen you must now obey.

Then trust in all you say and do,

It's all for Him and naught for you.

Thursday

We all are slaves in some respect.

We choose to love or be stiff-necked.

The pride of men fools many folk,

But love's a light and easy yoke.

The burdens of a sinful way

Will promise much, but little pay.

While love appears to lessen me,

But makes of me a fruitful tree.

Learn from Him they crucified,

And wash in water from His side.

By giving all, we all receive,

So let not selfishness deceive.

While pride slaves on in search of more,

Its efforts yield an empty store.

But slaves of love have restful sleep,

Renewing slumber, calm and deep.

Friday

Passing o'er those marked in blood,

The awesome might of God in flood.

That night forever recollected,

To each Mass, that day connected.

Lord of all who gives the grain,

Ground it in the mill of pain,

Makes of it a Living Bread

On which the faithful all are fed.

Saturday

The flame is gone, a glow remains,

Yet still the smold'ring wick contains

A spark of life abandoned not,

A fading hope, but not forgot.

With gentleness, He treats the stray

The chosen ones, who lost their way.

Those seen by most as useless fare

He shows the Father's loving care.

Freeing those enslaved by sin,

Welcoming repentant in.

Restoring withered hands and such,

With words of pow'r and gentle touch.