Bethel
What place is this that gives me peace
Amidst the haunting of the world's disease
Where on a stony pillow I find release
Guilty shadows flee, and I am at ease
What place is this that between a vision
And a dream, show me heaven still is real
And angels in their bright succession
Walk up and down the sacred ladder in zeal
O let me with my pillow make an altar here
Mark this indestructible rock of my faith
This must be heaven's gate, let me bare
My selfish desires, that you may consecrate
This worthless vessel, once of precious gem
Was wrought, for I have fled my kindred
Hound, but cannot flee this surge of mayhem
That holds me captive with its silent dread
O Bethel, now I return again, remember me
The trickster from the crossroad turned. Here
Once more my better name that favors mercy
To claim from my children's shame. How dear
To me this Rock, before whom once ago I kneel
When in ignorance that long night he gave rest
And moved my heart like a ship to turn its keel
To the harbor of his love, to the shelter of his breast.
And yet, despite my experience, how do I tell
What is the gate of God in the sinner's earth
This little spot that shuts out our guilty hell
And like a womb provide us with a second birth
What place is this, self replenishing, multiplies
The blessings channeled through absent doors
My cup runneth over here, and none denies
In this place the heart a laddered angel soars
Copyright © David Smalling | Year Posted 2010
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