My Christ is All that I Want

No surprise lurks under the cover,
No consummation slakes the thirst.
The wealth one amasses weighs one down,
The love for power is an endless pain.
The comfort of family is with limits,
Perfect joy and quiet cannot be found there.

When can a wanderer end his quest?
Where can thirst be forever quenched?
What sight fills you with endless joy?
In whose arms will you find eternal rest?

O for a sight of the Christ face,
And I shall live happily forever.
Lasting peace can be found in His eyes,
Everlasting comfort proceeds from His mouth.

O Lord, You are the beauty that I so desire,
In You is the end of all my search.
May my thoughts be entirely about You,
May every word of my mouth be addressed to You,
May the rest of my days pass in communion with You.
May I forever look upon Your face,
And never be satisfied with anything else.

My Christ is all that I want,
He is the only God that I need.

-Samuel Godfrey George

The Wayward Son

You were born among us,
You were raised to be like us,
Why do you not walk with us?
Why do you resist our way?
Are you not what you essentially are?
Are you not your father's son?
Will you not be defined by your mother's beliefs?
Your speech is strange,
Your language is not your own.
You wish to live a life that we cannot imagine.
You speak of a day that may never come.
Out of love we discourage you,
And insist that you do what is acceptable to us.
Will you listen to us?
Will you give us hope or fill us with despair?

-Samuel Godfrey George

The Long Wait

O woman, when will our eyes meet?
When will we acknowledge the truth?
Long I have waited for your inviting arms and holy embrace;
In our blessed union will spring forth the joy of tomorrow.
Wife of my dreams, take me home to my waiting son.
May he welcome me in his loving arms.
May the sweetness of his smile be entirely for my pleasure.
I long to hear his precious lips utter a sacred truth
Long forgotten and long delayed;
May he acknowledge my fatherhood to the world.
May we, the blessed family, come into being;
May the goodness of the Lord grant this precious joy.

-Samuel Godfrey George

The Mission

When will the voice be heard?
When will the directions be given?
When will the relief be felt?
What madness reigns in the head
Of the one in search of purpose!
What will become of him?
The silence is deafening,
His madness goes on.
He must cling to tall promises,
Dream of light in the heart of darkness,
Lay down his inconsequential life,
Bury his wretched desires, spurn the tawdry world,
And allow his heart to be softened by the touch
That helps him minister to an indifferent congregation,
Distracted and overwhelmed by life.
And his heavy humourless work must carry on
With the sole purpose of bringing glory
To the One who gave him all,
Who may also graciously grant him rest.

-Samuel Godfrey George

The Brothers That Never Were

What pain was felt on a rocky bed!
The pain of a lost one I know so well.
A child who laid his head on my breast,
A face so sweet, and so lost in the past.
I hold my brother in my arms,
In shaking embrace, I sob into his ears,
"Do you remember the child who grew up with us,
The boy who used to worship us,
The smile, the warmth, the smell
Of that boy who was a brother to us?"
He nods in tears, as we cling in pain,
And in sorrow a flood breaks out from us.
And then on a rocky bed, I return to this world,
In the trembling memory of brothers that never were.

-Samuel Godfrey George

Rest For The Restless

Not every wrong can be made right,
Not every battle can be fought,
May the restless man in search of perfection rest.
His restlessness robs him of the joy
That lies in the crude imperfect moment.
Let him embrace the moment, and relish the crudity,
And not only will he rest, but also live.

-Samuel Godfrey George

The Thanksgiving

For the still moment,
For the dreams that live,
For the love that breathes,
For the little things that bring gladness,
For the comfort of your voice,
For the strengthening of your touch,
For your love that compels,
Thank you, my lord, thank you.

-Samuel Godfrey George

O Son of Mine

O Son of Mine,
Pure bundle of joy,
You have brought light into my world,
Joy into my life, and meaning into my days.

You have blossomed into a flower,
Beauty dwells in your eyes,
Sweet innocence pours out of your mouth,
And I am purified by your light.

Yet I weep,
For your sweet smile is destined to fade,
Your unbridled joy will suffocate with pain,
When you see this world that I live in.

You, my own, will then be owned
By the law of life,
Your beautiful frame will be bent by experience
Of joy that is truly pain.

-Samuel Godfrey George

Harmless Joy

What a harmless joy this is!
Isn't this the way of the world?
Isn't everyone lost in his own harmless desire?
What harm can be done in confining these thoughts to oneself?

Isn't a man entitled to some private pleasure,
A pleasure so private that he would blush to tell?
Yet why does his joy turn quickly into sorrow?
Why does his emptiness remain even after the desire is quenched?

He roams in search of green pastures,
Yet he finds himself in a barren desert.
Fleeting dreams, and fading joys are his delight,
And moments of thrill slip through his hands and turn into filth.

Madness masquerades as sanity for a while,
And then rears its ugly head.
The lover of delight perceives this truth, and yet fails to act,
Fails to accept, fails to turn away, and fails to live that life he knows not.

-Samuel Godfrey George

My Lord And My God

When I barely knew this world
Or lived this life
You blazed across the sky
Roaring past me,
I cried out in my dream,
To the fiery sky,
"I will serve You!"
I uttered these words
In an unfamiliar language
That is now familiar.
I spoke of a service
That I knew nothing about
But now know well.

Once awake I was charged
With desire that seems strange now.
Aloud I expressed a wish
That came out of nowhere.
"I want to see Jesus,
I want to see Him now!" I said.
Hearing me repeat this wish many a time,
My dear Father, now dead, said,
"You will surely see Him some day."
What strange words issued from the lips
Of a man, who was not even a Christian!
Yet how comforting that thought was!

After that early day in my life,
I walked away from God.
As a young man, with great pride
I revealed to all my disbelief in God.
"Atheist" and "Agnostic" seemed popular labels
To the liberated me.
With what skill and joy I made light of the Lord
That I now worship and adore!
Not many an opportunity for mockery did I spare the Christ,
Not many an expletive did I spare the God
That I now call the Stunner.

That Stunner came back to me
After pain and failure mellowed my thickness.
One day when I turned thirty I said a prayer
And received an answer,
And then I said another, and received another.
And that made me read a book
That seemed totally dull to me till then.
I read the Word, and became another man.
The Stunner emerged in a Testament that was called Old.
Jehovah, the Massive Father,
The greatest and most ardent lover of all emerged
In the most heart-rending of tragedies.
A magnificent lover was so outrageously spurned
By His adulterous sweetheart, His people Israel.
My heart was mastered by that pain then and there.

A most ardent fan of God the Father,
A lover of Christ, and a vessel for the Spirit
I'd like to think I am.
But the struggle has not ended.
The enemy's grip is still strong,
And the Lord seems indifferent at times.
My heart sinks every now and then.
Bur I know that I am a work in progress,
True liberation from sin can be achieved only in physical death.
Nevertheless the heart sinks.

Once when my heart sank, He appeared in a dream again,
Tall and bearded, gigantic in frame,
He strode towards me, as I watched from a tiny window.
And He placed His hand on my forehead,
That sweet and gracious Lord of my heart!
The Bridegroom had finally signalled His interest,
So the bride must act.
But the Spirit must help, or the bride cannot act.
The Spirit and the bride must together say, "Come!"
To the One Who is Lord and God.

-Samuel Godfrey George

Ruled By The Heart

Could you cling harder to what pleases you?
Could you realise that stinging fantasy?
Could that muscle of joy throb forever?
Your heart demands it;
Your poor heart is so full of desire,
A yawning hunger remains within it.

Why is that brain of yours at odds with your heart?
Shouldn't you listen to your heart,
Obey its every bidding?
Isn't obedience to the heart the source of all pleasure?
Why does that irksome brain conspire to ruin your joy?
Who is that voice that speaks from within?
Why does it condemn you?
What harm have you done
Except look for lasting pleasure,
Even if it is at the cost of everything else?

You are on a mission;
You are in search of pleasure
That lives up to the flaming fantasy within.
Your heart is your queen,
Your impulses draw you to action.
All your energy is spent on
Chasing exciting shadows in your head.
What could be wrong with such a life?

Nothing is wrong with such a life
Except that the one who chases
His fantasies will never love reality.
He will not care about what is real,
As the real is not enticing enough.
He will not look beyond himself
For his dreams rule his soul.
Pain and ugliness will not appeal
To his heart which embraces
Only what it considers beautiful.

How sweet is that embrace?
How lasting is that pleasure?
How edifying is that delight?
There are some dreams that will never come true;
There are some fantasies that will never be acted out.
The pleasure in the head may never be translated into action,
And if it is ever realised, might not be as satisfying as the dream.
Yet the man goes on.

The Cross is the last thing on his mind,
Consecrating his members to the One on high
Is simply not a consideration.
Even He who is above all is irrelevant,
All that matters is what can be seen, felt and touched.
The only thing worth living for is the joy of the moment
And the moments to come.
So he blazes away like a candle
Dribbling its wax all over
Till it drowns in its own fluid.

-Samuel Godfrey George