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Mark 13:24-27

Hurricanes Season. Texas, Florida, and the Caribbean. 2017.

In the winds that howl, the deep’ning dark, as rains begin to fall,

and the hopes we cherish most in life are shrouded in their pall,

then at last we lift our vision; then at last we strain our ear

for the word of sweet deliv’rance: our rescuer draws near.

Teach us, Lord, to rescue others, and to find as we are found,

until all your people reach the shore and stand on higher ground.

O that you, O God, would tear the skies and to the earth descend

‘mid the trembling mountain’s tumult, ‘mid fear that knows no end.

Though the stars may leave their places, constellations cease to be,

though the world we know and all we love lost to memory,

still we wait, Lord, rapt in wonder, ‘til morning’s sun shall rise,

‘til the clouds are rent asunder, and the tear of heartache dries.

‘Til that day, before the table spread, the font, the spoken word

we will gather as a people and let lament be heard

for your promised reign of glory, for tomorrow’s dawn of peace,

for the helpless and the hopeless, the prisoner’s release.

Quickly come, Lord, to your people! The night grows e’er so long!

We believe, but help our unbelief, ‘til all our hearts are strong.

Note: This poem was written as a hymn, to be sung to the English hymn tune, THAXTED (drawn from the “Jupiter” movement of Gustav Holst’s suite, The Planets).