Song In The Night Poem by Peter Eliastam

You are teaching us the songs of wayfarers, rhythms
Of another route. You lead us out, where under open skies
You show us how to make our nests, as spare
As plovers make them, brushed on earthen flats.
Time’s habitats sped homeward on the wing, the wind
For residence, our harbours here but temporary rests.
We sing of higher love, Your treasure-trove entire in
Your Son. We learn Your fire-songs, Your deep bequests.
Our hearts within us burn and leap in turn
As taking bread You break it to us, showing us the way
And how to take it, knowing that it leads into the desert
For our good. Who would have understood
Your hospitality, or guessed Your powers? The flowers
Of our living rooms are florets of the Ram’s blood shed
In Isaac’s stead. Each window has a scarlet thread between
The Judge and Rahab’s bed. The Lamb has bled for us.
Before our vehicles had stalled, You called on us
To throw away the keys. Appalled, we fell down on our knees
Beside the road and wept, Your code and covenants unkept.
With surplus zeal we put Your name to flight,
Our shame, the measure of our plight, guilty to the hilt
Yet without blame. You goad us to surrender by Your grace
O blessed and shekinal Face, severe and tender Lord.
You are Yeshua who has bound us to Your side
In revelation on the highroad to Damascus.
Persecutors in our fears, our very tears are turned to
Treasure in Your flask. We, the experts, ask You who You are!
We cannot quell the rabid rats within our breast
Or mask our rampant pride, our sin that crucified
You there outside the camp, in each our own Jerusalem.
HaShem, Yeshua, Eagle, Human, Lion, Ox, our intimate yet
Unfamiliar paradox, both precious hope and
Ever-present danger. Extraordinary stranger, You are
The consolation of Your flock, the stark presentiment and
After-shock to Israel. Faltering, we fail here at the
Terminal, a signal residue of Jews, near deaf
To news of good, par-blind, a remnant left, bereft
Of all but Your Torah for light, Tanach for Morning Star.
We quail before our enemy, severe and tender Host. Pale is
Our parallel to Your Gethsemane, and paler our Hallel.
Your children of the aftermath, we tread the path of
Fire in the air we breathe, the funeral pyre of despair

Becomes the freeway for our songs. We shall ascend with
Them in smoke to You, be that Your will.
Our branded limbs shall stand today upon the ash of
Holocausts recurrent till they end in hymns of praise and
Worship to the Lamb. Shiloh! To whom our gaze belongs.
O great “I AM”, our aspirations crash outside of You
“Shabbach to Yah, Yeshua haMaschiach!
We shall shout it out! Death’s sepulchres of doubt
Themselves accuse the nations, till the world aflame
Accepts these intimations from the Jews.
We leave the grave behind. Before us is the stave!
No flowers now. No immortelles to dress the cemeteries.
Our songs are burnished in our legacies of hells made
Fragrant by Immanuel’s forgiveness. We shall bless
The numb unnumbered Jezebels to please You more
From temple-mount and shore to shore. From Zion shall
The multi-tongued sing tributes to our Hebrew King,
And everything in heaven and on earth
Shall choir Hallelu-Yah to Messiah; bring You gold
And myrrh, and frankincense. From every nation ten
Appointed men shall then lay hold upon the hem of an
anointed Jew, declaring, “We shall go with you
And live, for with you is the true and thrilling God! ”
Prophecy fulfilled and nothing sparing, with one voice
And willing, give him bold allegiance, and rejoice!
Rejoice! The Gentiles at the stumbling-block
Will yet receive the gem of our salvation.
They shall, turning to Jerusalem, proclaim His dues
The Hero’s acclamation! Living Jews, exulting in Your name
Shall be the Hebrews of the upward road.
The midnight hour, the measure of our shame,
Guilty to the hilt, yet without blame. Your shepherd’s
Staff, Your rod will set the pace. Our God has borne
The sin of Adam’s race. Shekinal still,
Your wondrous will, Your goad of grace! The blinding
Light is but our bright reprieve, commanding vision
To our sight, that we may see our brethren in the flesh
Believe! Unyielding, demanding, envying our peace
Past understanding, by Your Ruach ha Qodesh
Shall Jacob yet receive his Sar Shalom, and fresh things
At the wells on His returning. Israel’s Immanuel!
You are our lodestar of the morning!