Sunday, April 3, 2011

The Pulpit

The pulpit seems a lofty perch to view the field below
A turret high above the din and higher from the foe

The pulpit seems a pedestal on which to proudly stand
To bravely rally the raucous troops...and those troops command

The pulpit seems a fortress, a haven hold strong
Immune to the onslaught of the battle ever long

But not so high the perch it cannot touch the ground
And not so safe the pedestal it cannot tumble down

Exposed be the fortress if be weak its flank
Not always glorious the sight of ragtag file and rank

Grace has filled the pulpit and the humble servant there
Mercy placed the armor on the servant's shoulders bare

Compassion stitched together the servant's tattered heart
Love has lifted up his cries and made them whole from part.
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