Give Me a Weary God

Give me a weary god
One who knows what it means to bend,
To take a knee or bow a head,
Emptied, cast down, enslaved.

Sustain his rebellious spirit.
Pull a guilty glory from his likeness.
Turn his grace upon those heavy hearts
Who are struck together by the tempest.

Behold that spitting form,
The backward shame of heaven,
Spewing disgraced insults.
Help obedient hearts defy that high name

That name that sets himself above the cross
And puts every death to shame
For the sake of inglorious human vanity.
Confront his hateful ways and curse his tongue
For reviling humane earth.

Slaves stand with wounded hands
Confronting bold-faced adversaries - flint-skinned, taut-lipped.
Regard their stricken, burning backs.
Exalt their wounded tongues and ears.

On this bare morning we stand together.


- inspired, reconfigured and crafted from Isaiah 50:4-9 and Philippians 2:5-11, Palm Sunday, March 2018