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The Magazine of The Evangelical Lutheran Church in America

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Morning prayer

This week's feature: Morning prayer

Easter comes, and with it spring.
Time again, to see
the love that labors
in all things; at the
dark center of life, where
all the innumerable
fibers of reality meet.

You Are, O Risen One:
You are the joy of the goldfinches
singing out my window,
feeding on thistle,
praising its Maker.

You are the red blaze
of the geraniums
vibrant in their black pots.

You are the creative joy
of those who make gentle music
of infinite longing, floating now
through the door, hovering,
lifting me to yearn for
the More
I can never fully possess.

You are the yellow flame
of the black-eyed susans, yearning,
stretching toward the sun's
blinding rays, reaching for the
eternity that is their Source.

You are the dancing drops
on the deck, bouncing,
beading, cooling
the green earth
with life's nectar.

You are the vibrant greening
of the trees, surrounding
this holy cell that
encloses me, where I sit
praising you, for
the wonder that I am
here, seeing you
in the joy of morning.

You are the life, the blaze,
the glory, the vibrance,
the vitality, the joy,
the song, the dance
of life around me
as I sit in my cell
drinking you in, senses
full of tiny details
pressing into me, each
full of You.
My senses are full of You, for
You Are.

You are the life of all
that lives.

You are the joy of the rain,
the yearning of the flowers,
the greening of leaves that
soon enough will fade and
fall, fanning again yearning
for Beauty that does not fail,
the light to which the flowers stretch,
for Eternity which fills even
this moment.

You are the longing for
Life that presses into
every sense of my being.

You long for me, and You Are
that longing in me for You.
You within, long for You beyond,
that I may be filled with
the dance of the drops on the deck,
the geraniums' blaze,
the joy of finches' song,
the heavenward straining
of the black-eyed susans,
with the longing to sample whatever
sacrament allows men and women to
make music of infinite longing for
that Ancient Beauty that is home, You,
the place that stills my restless wandering.

You labor in all things,
filling, filling all, with the
fullness You Are.
I live in the environment
of You, the precinct of epiphany,
the atmosphere of divine pleasure.

You joy in the life you give,
and are, and with which
you fill all things.

You Are the life of the world.
May I be filled with all that
You Are? You who are
joy, dance and longing,
vibrance and life,
beauty and song,
the life of the living.

You Are more than I can say or want.

Beyond word and wonder,
image and imagining; beyond
it all, You Are.
Those two words,
may they be my morning praise to You,
Who are.



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