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By Kenneth Bridge

"Praise Him with trumpet sound…"

Though so far no shofar, the trumpet will sound
Though darkness dare strong, ere long the circle will round.

Praise Him with harp and lyre…

Mountain fastness to springs give birth,
Emerging trembling from the earth,
Welling fresh at world's first morn,
Music blest the river born,

Glissando and arpeggio, the merry waters tumble,
Icy streams in free fall, frothing white with bubble,
Find repose in shallow pools then gather force,
And with whetted power cuts its course,

"Praise Him with timbrel and dancing…"

With nimble chance the trout will dance
His rainbow arcs upon the river
In gratitude for joy of life,
This prayer to dance before the Giver

"Praise Him with stringed instruments and pipe…"

Two great streams meet with momentous loss,
Mercy and Judgment at the cross,
Then flow as one, serene strength unopposed,
In ebb tide grows where in floodtide flows,

"Praise Him with loud cymbals,
Praise Him with high resounding cymbals…"

With quickened pace the river race
Toward roaring surf, the edge of earth,
The conclusion to the story,
Judgment stark, too late the ark,
Man's folly shamed by Glory

Then falls to ocean from rocky height
Where gulls and terns wheel in flight,
With mournful plaint they mark the shattered stone
On which Babylon has fallen and sinks below

Conceit of man, Nimrod's race, towering pride now erased,
Under babbling water now in silent sea embrace
The arrogant city will forever keep
Silted and silent in ocean deep,

Light balmy breeze and blue vaulted sky,
Golden sun warms distant isles,
Endless reach of pristine beach,
Sky and ocean sunlit each,
The river finds eternal rest
Forever sweet, forever blest.
From first day to eternal morn
Music blest the river born,

Though darkness dare strong, ere long, the circle will round,
Though so far no shofar, the trumpet will sound.

All italicized writing is from Psalm 151:3-5 NASB

Ken Bridge first wrote stories for his elementary school classmates. After graduation, he hitch-hiked across America, served in the Army and historic Old Town Alexandria, VA, as a Police Officer, but stopped writing. While a policeman, he converted from atheism to Christianity. He left to pursue his theological education and became an ordained Pastor. Divorce changed his day job to the IT field. His new wife, Angel, encouraged him to resume his graduate studies and his writing. If you would like to write to Ken, you can do so through the Letters page of this magazine.

By Jaz

Thank you for putting
together my life.
You weave in the sorrows
through the joy;
You knit in the pain
through the happiness.
Hands of clay
you shape,
With persistence
you attend to my heart
to make it whole.
You stand up in me
and give me my worth
letting me know
you made me as I be,
that I become her
because of who you are,
not because of what you see.
Will never let me go for too long;
You're a jealous lover.
I come back to whom I belong.
Making me more like you,
it hurts,
but you said you'd see it through
To the
Keep pruning
Keep kneading
Keep shaping my life
For your glory.

Copyright Jaz - 2002

Jaz is a published poet, songwriter, actress and singer from Philadelphia, Pa. Jaz seeks to reflect the light of her savior, Jesus Christ, whenever she ministers through her gifts. She embraces her tears as well as her laughter. If you would like to write to Jaz, you can do so through the Letters page of this magazine.