One more day with you.

Lord of Light, let fly the rainbowed sky, rimmed with your yellow sun and searing shafts of glory! We faint before your wonder, fall before the sheer power of your being. You engrave our souls with your living word: Light borne, all life bows to the lamb and the incense of the elite! 'And when He had taken the scroll, the four living creatures and the twenty-four elders of the heavenly Sanhedrin prostrated themselves before the Lamb. Each was holding a harp (lute or guitar), and they had golden bowls full of incense (fragrant spices and gums for burning), which are the prayers of God’s people (the saints). Rev 5:8)

Seekers of truth, knocking at the door of prism fire, Jesus, we follow you through the door of our lives: We find your spirit in the quick rush of the green breeze; the ancient rocks rumbling into life just at the pounding edge of the sea; the quiescent deer -- threading the narrows in absolute grace -- leading the young over splashes and through falls -- to thirst no more at the truest of springs; we find your laughter in the clustered ease, the flights of butterfly and bees as they joins in the tree to tree symphony -- from flower to fruit, color to color they arc and twirl, following nectar's honey songs -- sharing food for the flowers, mana for the world. How your creations delight us, fire our souls -- gives spark to all that is, all that was and all that can be.

What a miracle to awaken each day to you, to spend the morning as you pass the hours with our thoughts, to find the shadow of your footsteps -- calling us to follow, to join the flight and let loose the bonds -- to soar with our all our might and all our souls on winged fire to meet the morning challenges of these worldly days.

And then there is noon and time to thank you once again for our sustenance, your grace spread like a tent over our lives, our families and our country. We are so blessed by the circle of the peace around our days -- for the sacred bread and fellowship cup.

Evening birds begin to gather and you allow the yellow to turn to gold, the earth's rim finding a quieter presence, a more august and reflective glow that, moving slowly, finds the gloaming of evening and follows it into night -- but even in the dark of the moon, we are not without light. We are never alone at that evening meal when the world opens itself to your touch, to being filled with one more day of your essence, as you bend down, breathe out, and write new life in the sand of time.

Over our night, your angels guard us, wing to wing -- touching, face to face -- watching -- over the faithful, the truth seekers, your family, who sleeps only to awaken to dawn and your life-light again. Shine on us this weekend.

Our hearts and hands find prayer without ceasing, Sweet Jesus, and look to you. Grant us one more day of your strong presence, more more touch of time with your standard of truth, one more taste of life divine and kingdom come before you gather us gently together to come home with you.

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