Political Class Ignoring at Their Peril

Political Class Ignoring at Their Peril

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Dust and Ashes

I’ll be mindful of my origins
Formed from the dust of the earth
Satan eats it all the days of his life
For the dust still bears the curse


I am mindful of my own end
For it’s to dust I shall return
And it will come to me so soon
As surely as the starwheel turns
Only my Lord can raise me above
I am only lifted by his perfect love

I declare my outrage against Satan self and Sin
For I am called to know my enemies.
I refuse to let them hold the upper hand again
Complicit in this dread conspiracy
I shake off the dust from my feet
Declaring my protest is complete
I will live like I believe I’m free.

I abhor with my whole being
The sin that has defeated me
Sitting in the dust I’m seeing
My need for real humility.

In ashes I see my own worth
And the end of the arrogant
I remember I will return to dirt
As in sorrow and ashes I repent
And only my Lord can raise me above
I am only lifted by his perfect love

I declare my outrage against Satan self and Sin
For I am called to know my enemies.
I refuse to let them hold the upper hand again
Complicit in this dread conspiracy
I shake off the dust from my feet
Declaring my protest is complete
I will live like I believe I’m free.

Prostrate Poem

We would tremble in the presence of the Lord our mighty King
And be deafened by the roaring of his wondrous sheltering wings
To be blinded by the glory of the radiance of His face
And our hearts will race to countenance His righteousness and grace
We have known of His embrace.

Devastated by His kindness and consumed by holiness
Purified by righteous searing fire as His Name we confess
We have swallowed dust and ashes as our selves we have abhorred
Quaking in the courtyard of our Holy, Holy, Holy Lord!
His name is to be adored!

We have rested by still waters after burning in our bones
We have understood the fullness of having Him alone
We have known the mystery of those who're wholly satisfied
While yet craving more and more of a life that’s crucified.
As to ourselves we’ve died…

This is no place of easy comfort and familiarity
No place to look to others, and no place for apathy
For if we remain untouched and not grieved by our gross sin
We’ve not tarried in his presence for we have not entered in.
This is not where we’ve been

We have apprehended mercy in its full unvarnished form
We have learned to drink from fountains overflowing from His storm
We have wept with tears of gratitude while trembling in fear
And we're longing for the day when we won’t depart from here
We would ever be drawn near.

In the mountain and deep valley he Has drawn us to his side
While we awe at dread perfections where we're called now to abide
We have lived beneath our privilege for far, far, far, too long
We desire to stay enraptured as we sing life’s simple song.
And to sing our whole life long

Anthony Foster
September 5, 2009
2AM