Pastoral

As I think of the mansion,
the Lord’s prepared for you,
I see it has a window to our hearts.

When people ask,”What’s Christ done for me?”
I mention meeting you in the square,

Bible open on your knee,

sandwiches for the street people

stacked in the van.

 I was just high enough on Jacob’s ladder

 to backslide until you brothered me,

 pressed my sour grapes into service,

 showed me the dance step of the sanctified

 is where Lou Rawls left off

 and the Holy Ghost glides to the side.

I subscribe to your living epistle,

a foot path to Saint Peter’s gate,

a legacy of lions, sleeping with the lambs.

Today,

your first day in heaven,

there’s a laugh behind the clouds.

Its our Shepherd,
watching you leap the lilies of the field.