Sit at the Feet of The Master

Here I sit in the second row, I feel so far away.
I reach out to touch You , but my hands close on nothingness.
I wish I were the altar cloth, pure white, simple but beautiful,
Spread out on the altar as an offering to You.
The altar in so near to you.
I consider sitting on the sanctuary step, would that be alright?
Better even than the step would be to kneel up against the Tabernacle stand,
To sit at the feet of The Master,
To grasp His knees in supplication,
'Ne permittas me separari a Te, Domine.'

You Know the Depths of My Heart, O Lord

Your heart is breaking. The world is full of hurt. Life is too much to bear. You can’t keep on through the heartbreak, the constant disappointment. Mary appears, gently, softly, even though you hadn’t had the strength to call on her for help. She takes your hand and begins to guide you. She brings you to her Son. As you are about to reach Him your knees give way, you fall to the ground. Jesus approaches you, meeting you halfway, and Mary squeezes your hand. Jesus bends down and scoops you up as if everything that has been weighing you down is light to Him. He holds you close and tears fall quietly, shyly down your cheeks. He looks at you and you know it is alright to cry, that you shouldn’t be ashamed. So you cry, you weep. And He weeps to see your heart in such condition. Your beautiful heart, which He made lovingly, and pursues unfailingly, beaten, tattered, bruised.