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He met me on a “missions trip” some years

ago, I used to hate that phrase he used.

But I saw, by his invisible tears,

he loved the love of which he was suffused.

And now, four years or so have passed away,

and here he is again, just passing through.

He recognized me, and was moved to say,

again, that all his old love was still new.

I prayed that I might seek the good he seeks.

For if a fraction of what seems is true,

a heart like his, to God’s own heart, now speaks;

and knows, always, the kindest things to do.

I will forgive the grammar of the phrase,

if “missions trips” can, hearts like his, liaise.

~~~

I’ve said things that I shouldn’t, with regret,

and some words born of anger, too, have slipped,

but that which causes greater fear and fret

is that of which I’m, in this moment, gripped.

I’ve stumbled more than I can illustrate,

more than all faithless words I’ve ever said;

and look (for that most civil magistrate

who holds the mallet for my sins) with dread.

I’ve failed my classes, done a crime or two,

I’ve left undone all things and carved a rut.

I’ve had to pay some substantial fines, too,

I’ve failed a very many people, but

no guilt has ever taken me or you

more than a library book overdue.