Late December Song

Groans Too Deep for Words

Deep, deep is the falling night
As we weep our wounds shine bright
You cannot hide the holy pain
When there’s nothing to lose and nothing to gain
And the wrongness cannot seem to be made right

Devastation is our salvation
Dead to self and alive to the holy One
Transformation by New Creation
Taken to the depths of the soul by the Son
Rending my old garments as I am undone.

And every passion I have known
Pales in comparison to this new light
Blinding me and showing me the seeds I have sown
They had surely taken over in their blight
Now I know the blinded woundedness of this unseen sight.

Well a heart can cry and a soul can moan
And a body tells a truth that can be shown
And the Spirit gives voice to the prayers I groan
In this darkest night my mind has known
From this deepest well the most wondrous wail I’ve never heard
But my comforter intercedes for these groans to deep for words
For my redeemer bleeds with groans too deep for words.

Groans too deep for words
Groans too deep for words
Here in the fellowship of suffering
Here hidden beneath his sheltering wing
Here in this union hidden in the holy One
Where I come to know as I am known
As my heart becomes an altarplace…
I rest in the Peace that flows from Grace

Anthony Foster
December 28, 2008

Song of Heaven

Angels in realms of Glory
Pure exaltation raise
Witness to the amazing story
As light sets this darkness ablaze
All they can do is wonder
Fall on theiur faces and sing
As darkness is torn asunder
And light to this world Christ brings

You are the Song of Heaven
Come become the Song of Earth
You are the Song of Heaven
Creation sings of your worth
Sing to us Words of Salvation
Strains of redemption we’d hear
Melody of New Creation
Ring in our hearts bright and clear.

This humble and holy birth
Will change the course of creation
This Cosmic invasion of earth
Brings Yahweh’s promise of Salvation
All history has served as sign
From the day that time began
This day for which a world was designed
Before the beginning , it was planned

You are the Song of Heaven
Come become the Song of Earth
You are the Song of Heaven
Creation sings of your worth
Sing to us Words of Salvation
Strains of redemption we’d hear
Melody of New Creation
Ring in our hearts bright and clear.

December 14, 2008

Anthony Foster

Winter Light

God of the prancing fire
God of the falling snow
God of the dancing heart
God of the singing soul
Come fill our heart’s desire
Your presence we would know
Lord fill us with your fire
Abide with us here below.
Stir up the embers now
Come set our hopes ablaze
Come as we humbly bow
While angels astounded gaze
Give us your grace and peace
Come set the prisoner free
From winter’s chains release
As your sacred light we see.

Anthony Foster
December 2008

Babe

Christ left the Father’s throne
Where the worship of angels he’d known
Taking on human flesh and bone
So that the Truth at last could be shown.

Realms of glory on high
Could not avert His eye
For greater Glory called
From a feeble cattle stall.

So mystery is displayed
The ultimate penalty paid
Was it worth it?
Was it worth it?
Only God can know.
And God has deemed it so.

The Glory now descends
Tabernacles with us men
For He had counted the true cost
Even before this world was lost.

Salvation now has come
Bound up in a beloved Son
Was it worth it?
Was it worth it?
Oh the priviledge he would not grasp
Grace is born in this baby’s first gasp…

December 2008
Anthony Foster

Anthony's World

I got a call today and there was no one on the other end of the line- or so I thought...

Later an email came in with news that made me laugh out loud. A co worker's DOG had hit redial on her phone while she was at lunch and called me- when she returned from lunch there was a 51 minute call to me from the pooch. She must have been too shy to bark...

I told my coworker her dog could call me anytime- It'll probably be a better conversation than most calls I get...

What I don't want for Christmas...

I realize some folks will be having these for Christmas dinner, but no thanks, I'll pass...

Christmas blog

As anyone who looks here might notice, the blogging has taken a back burner to studying for comprehensive exams, writing papers, presenting papers, conducting workshops and teaching of late. Eventually things will pick up again as I hope the flow won't dry up altogether.

Here's something I ran across from a dear cousin who passed away some years ago. She wrote it as a child in 1909...

December 17, 1909--Dear Santa Claus, I am a little girl nine years old and I live back on the river, five miles from Shepherdsville. Oh, Santa, you can come up the river. I am looking for you to come to see me, and I want you to bring me a doll and some oranges and a pair of shoes; and oh, Santa, don’t come down the chimney that has the stove pipe in it, you might get fastened. Santa, the roads are so rough I am afraid you will not come. I want you to come, so I will close. Please come. From Clara B. Trigg

Makes me smile.