In honor of its being Resurrection Sunday, I’ve laid aside my usual post on the Song of Solomon and want to share some beautiful poetry written by the daughter of one of my friends. Lynette Garlets is the mother of four and in the midst of moving her family from Michigan to the Southeast. She wrote these poems first in her head while nursing her young children during the midnight hours of last Easter season. I hope you’ll be as enriched as I have been by reflecting on her meditations.
She carried a burden for nearly a year.
He carried his for thirty-three clear.
She traveled the days before her time.
His last walk was the Golgotha climb.
She labored for hours with groans and sweat.
His labor made the sky turn black.
She spilled her blood when her baby came.
He spilled it all, his race to reclaim.
She treasured these things and pondered on them.
His treasure was the rescue of men.
The cry, “It is finished, it is done!”
And Mary kissed her sleeping son. (~Lynette Garlets)
His only crown was one of thorns.
His only throne a cross.
His palace–where they laid his bones.
His subjects all, he lost.
His naked body clothed my own.
His wounds healed all of me.
His flowing blood paid all my loan.
He won my loyalty.
So raise your flag of homage now.
Sing his song anew.
Love him and before Him bow.
He loved all of you. (~Lynette Garlets)
(As it says in the Bible:) “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life. For God sent not his Son into the world to condemn the world; but that the world through him might be saved” (John 3:16-17).
The woolly worm within its casket sleeps–
All dried and hardened, given up for dead;
All crushed and crowded in its narrow bed.
Like death he neither eats nor breathes nor creeps.
A secret there enclosed, its casement keeps,
A mystery so wondrous, it is said,
That in due time this coffin it will shed
To spread its wings of light, to heav’n it sweeps. (~Sonnet by Lynette Garlets)Can we accept this miracle divine
And justly give the glory to our God?
And then to learn the lesson of the sign–
The metamorphosis of Christ to laud. If we believe the truth of only one,
Then our own transformation we have none. (~Sonnet by Lynette Garlets)
And finally, a beautiful hymn written 150 years ago:Crown Him With Many Crowns
- Crown Him with many crowns,
The Lamb upon His throne;
Hark! How the heav’nly anthem drowns
All music but its own!
Awake, my soul and sing
Of Him Who died for thee,
And hail Him as thy matchless King
Through all eternity.
- Crown Him the Lord of love!
Behold His hands and side—
Rich wounds, yet visible above,
In beauty glorified.
No angel in the sky
Can fully bear that sight,
But downward bends His wond’ring eye
At mysteries so bright.
- Crown Him the Lord of life!
Who triumphed o’er the grave,
Who rose victorious in the strife
For those He came to save.
His glories now we sing,
Who died, and rose on high,
Who died eternal life to bring,
And lives that death may die.
- Crown Him the Lord of heav’n!
One with the Father known,
One with the Spirit through Him giv’n
From yonder glorious throne,
To Thee be endless praise,
For Thou for us hast died;
Be Thou, O Lord, through endless days
Adored and magnified.
(Matthew Bridges, pub.1852
v. 3 by Godfrey Thring, pub.1874
copyright status: Public Domain)