What does this strange story mean,
Of something heard, and something seen,
A violent wind, hurricane roar,
That fell from heaven, slipped through door?

Yes what strange power filled that place
Through corridor and room did race,
That swelled with such majestic sound,
And rooted each one to the ground?

And what to make of ‘tongues of fire’,
That did not hurt, but did inspire,
That this strange day, did not consume,
But rested on those in that room?

What Spirit made them shout aloud,
What strange commotion drew the crowd,
And what divine mysterious art
Produced such languages of the heart?

Was it that they were humble, pure,
And ready for such presence sure,
With hearts receptive, like a child,
To heed a power so raw and wild?

And what of us, who count and measure,
Could we receive heart-stopping treasure,
Could we, who think we know so much,
Accept that melting, humbling touch?

Audio with music bed:
Image by Holger Schué from Pixabay

A few poems inspired by the Anglican-initiated global ecumenical call to prayer, this year 21-31st May:

What brings joy without alloy
To Father God above?
And what may lure strong pleasure pure
From his deep heart of love?
To see lost sheep step out (or leap)
To seek him in this place,
One ounce of trust enough, He must
To such reveal His face.

A sudden shock your boat may rock
In life’s tempestuous seas,
Or worry creep and steal your sleep
And leave you ill at ease;
Yet Christ alone, the Living Stone
Can take the helm and steer,
Instil his peace, and bring release,
Dissolve your crippling fear.

Though made to soar, by some strange lore
This world keeps me confined,
A flag to fly, past ‘work, play, die’?
Elusive, hard to find;
One pure and brave rose from the grave,
Unlocked a wider view,
Of greater scope and deeper hope –
And offers it to you.

To trust in ‘truth’ may seem uncouth
In our world-weary age,
Faith may be lost, abandoned, crossed,
“Move on, turn over page”;
Yet Spirit-fire may yet inspire
Faint embers of the heart,
And on them blow, that we may know,
The joy of a new start.

Image by Couleur from Pixabay

Faded footage of bygone celebration,
A carnival spirit of joy and vacation,
Buckingham, Trafalgar, and lining the Mall,
A people determined to party, “We shall…
Rejoice through the night!”,
they might well have said,
And struggled to put manic children to bed;
A nation in lockdown now fights novel foe,
A fresh incarnation of trouble and woe,
We hail our key workers with rainbows so bright,
A rich ancient symbol, yes let’s not lose sight
Of their role as God’s pledge, to never again
Strike world with a flood-like disaster, and then,
As a king on VE day thanked God up above,
May we learn, perhaps slowly,
Him once more to love.

Audio:

Image by Pexels from Pixabay