Peace, Sweet Peace

Peace, sweet peace, flood o'er my soul,

My being, breathing,thinking, out of control.

Peace, sweet peace, come fill my mind,

I look, I search, I cry, still not to find.

Peace, sweet peace, capture my spirit,

Distractions, Illusions, fleeting and empty, never fill it.

Peace, sweet peace, Yes, Yes, in Him I find,

Arms open wide, His love is forever kind.

Peace, sweet peace, abiding in love I stay,

Holding, clutching, yearning is how I pray.

Peace, sweet peace, twill be eternal bliss,

In Jesus, my Lord, my God, never to miss.

A short thought on peace. Sunday morning service during piano prelude.



Scars on the Street

Did people notice the scars on His feet,

As He walked with them on the cold stone street?

As He raised His hands up high

Did scars on His hands catch an eye?

Did His brow show signs of thorn,

A cruel crown this King had borne?

For now, He is cloaked in Light,

He did cry, It is over, I've won the fight.

The scars on His feet and hand,

Visible for all across the land.

Transformed from signs of hate,

Scars will embrace as we pass His gate.

The hatred of men, shown one day,

In His kingdom banished, forever away.

tg 4/12/12



Easter Morning

Easter morning full of glory,

Now, unveiled mystery of His story.

Cold, cruel men lied, lifting him high,

Two days earlier watching him die.

His body broken, his blood shed,

Lance pierced side, sure he's dead.

Taken down by silent friends,

In their sorrow sure his story ends.

Laid out in a cold stone tomb,

The Father's plan tis a resurrection womb.

On the first new day of the week,

A servant comes, hears a gardener speak.

Please sir, where have you taken my Lord,

He is my life, my teacher, my Master adored.

Jesus speaks her name, her longing heart does leap,

She clutches his feet, longing her Lord to keep.

She leaves and empty tomb that day,

Ever after, telling all that He is the Way.

t/g/ 4/8/12



Come Close

On a distant stone hill I can see,

The hatred of mankind hanging on a tree.

Won't you please come close to His cross,

The scene, His life, His touch, seem as dross.

I will cherish the old rugged cross,

The wood, the iron, the wine, blood,

Attack my soul, my sight, like a flood.

I want to run away and flee,

For in His visage, it ought to be me.

I will cling to the old rugged cross,

I know, I cry, He hangs in my place,

He is clothed in naught but disgrace.

His head, O bloodied head, bowed low,

From wounds, brokenness, life does flow.

I will cherish the old rugged cross,

His eyes, gentle, loving, upon me gaze,

My heartache, tears, cause my vision to haze.

The death post, again I come near,

For my need, now I see clear.

I will cling to the old rugged cross,

My soul by hands, do grip His feet,

Soul rejoice! For salvation so sweet.

The post, the beam, that raised Him high,

Can, will, transport all beyond the sky.

G. Benard- I will cling- I will cherish

tg cpy 4-5-2012

Longing for Love

Long did I clutch the bottle, the pill,

Longing, yearning, the empty hole to fill.

Such longing in my heart,

Their lie, a mask playing a part.

I cried, I tried, to abandon their lies,

their hold on me, a noose tied.

Free, free, why can't I be,

Of this hook set deep in me.

Deep darkness, despair, all I see,

Chained down, I want, can't flee.

Death, peaceful death, please cover me,

Earthen grave, my only plea.

Stretched out, damp, cold night,

Pain,  punsihment, I sense is right.

In despair, my head hangs low,

Eyes, tears, capturing a glow.

Hands reach to hold my chains,

Scars, history of cruelty, pain.

Love , compassion, shine from His face,

Shackles, links, shattering-falling, in our embrace.

copyright tg 2-21-2011

Palms and Pain

Palms waved, a King to see,

Multitudes eager to bend their knee.

Joyous, expectant, loud their cry,

Christ, meek, mild, on a foal passes by.

Cloaks and palms they lay on the ground,

In a week, not a friend to be found.

He didn't arrive, earthly king to be,

Spurned, they would hang Him on a tree.

His kingdom, not visible to their eye,

Veiled and hidden, till after He would die.

Innocent, Pure, His life He laid aside,

In dying, bringing multitudes to abide.

Lifeless body laid in a borrowed tomb,

Mankind's monument to despair and gloom.

On the third day a woman came to see,

To prepare her Lord's body, broken on that tree.

Vacant, empty tomb is what she did find,

Questions, despair on her mind.

Turning around, she finds her Lord,

Wanting to clutch Him, her Jesus adored.