His hands so gently strong embrace his son, Unseeing eyes behold the depth of loss Of youth and age and every painful cross -- So Rembrandt poured his being through his art. O God, as Rembrandt shared his soul and heart, Your Soul embrues through everything as One. (No pagan godly cosmos here that finds The final hope and answer for our life In things and means evolved from natural strife; ÔTis not an autogenerated world Whose inner order on its own unfurled, But of Your holy mind beyond our minds.) Your zootic force compels the null to being; Without it there is neither form nor means -- Impossible would be humans and machines: O Jesus, You're the thread, the patterned tie -- Photonic rigging guiding earth and sky -- Our Christ, the cause and source of our perceiving. What matters family, job or friend? Via Negativa O God, what matters preaching Sunday morn Or e'en the blowing of the final horn? But only if you will, those will be so: One thing alone to Jesus do we owe: To tend whatever God would have us tend. For You from You we make machines to teach -- Via Positiva A hugh metallic ant, a star projector To show the public by a cosmic spector The Horseman made of a triple binary dance And Betelgeuse with a star inside its expanse -- And so extend Your revelation's reach. Lilac purple side by side with dogwood white: Via Creativa From Your creative blooming dynamo -- Animating spirit that denies its foe -- Out of inert and shapeless elements, We co-create superb developments: Threads of glass to carry sound and sight by light. We're coming home, O Lord, right here and now Via Transfomrativa Into your sure unfailing open hands, Unquestioned, naked, just as we can be To stand under the freedom and commands Of Yours arising from the world's debris. I have a vision of Your holy rule: A ring of light within the inner slum Of ports and ways for chances that will fuel Rebirth out of a pand¾monium, Transformed: a light unto a darken world. O God whose breathing breathes in all creation, Through nature guide us to divine elation. Amen.
©1994, John A. Mills