Soul's Divine Encounter
"Come boldly to the throne." We've read the words,
Astounded that Father God would bid like that to pray.
"The throne," Imagination takes what we have heard,
And supposes it is for a future day.
And, still I seek, remembering the words I've read;
Memory brings scenes I have not taken part;
Can this God, Whose bits of truth invade my head,
Bring courage and the means for me to reach His heart?
I tremble with anticipation and with awe,
As I ask to see yet more of His domain,
And go myself to see what apostles saw.
Oh, purify, let me glimpse Your glory once again.
"Come boldly," What an invitation, scarcely able, I,
To lift my eyes to see the trace of heavenly light,
The aura, hint of what beings fill the sky,
And hues transcending those familiar to sight.
And I creep forth, so conscious of my impurity,
As though a grubby herdsman, unprepared,
Unwashed and inferior before His shining company,
To set foot in the castle, presumptuously, has dared.
"Enough! "I cry." Enough!" stunned by the glimpse of glory.
Again, I meet the work-a-day, transformed;
In the cold light, will I relate the story?
I will walk anew, soul, by divine encounter stormed.
©03/05/2012 Carol Morfitt Welch