Treasure Island

Terry Collett


A Bride


I am a bride of Christ, said Sister Bede;
He kisses me with a thousand stars.
My bridesmaids are the angels
At elbows and head; the wind
Of the four corners my choristers;
The wounds of my groom, my wedding ring;
The hammer on the nails in His hands and feet
Are reminders of His love for me, I swoon
At His touch, for His love is overmuch.
I am but a grain of sand beneath His feet,
An echo in the desert of His wanderings,
A lost sheep of his multifold flock; He holds me
In His arms when I am found, angels in His kingdom
Rejoice at this, but I am as dew
Upon the morning grass,
A speck of dust in the world’s whirl,
A mere grain in His creation of worlds.
I sit and wonder at my gain,
My bridegroom’s touch, His saving arms,
His blessed hands, His finger pointing
At His sacred heart. Nothing in the universe
Can match His power, nothing can separate me
From His boundless love: I feel myself as saved
From darkness and gloom, my sins mar my skin,
My faithlessness taints my breath,
My lack of love hangs in my hair;
But He is my groom; His love washes away
All that taints; His coming is as the sun
On a morning’s break; He has brought me home
To my heart’s desire; He has set my soul alight
With His love’s deep fire.

Submitted: Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Edited: Tuesday, October 18, 2011
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