Sonnet #39 – meditations on the pastorate
Our joy in service is not commensurate with the temporal reward.
I have in hand much less than here in heart
and pocket less than raised in daily thought
If words were cents as sense grows into art
then I would gain the realm of Camelot
we purchase castles and we live in caves
we will not see them traveling this way
does Yahweh call us kings? we live as slaves
and come up short, indebted and betrayed
But poverty is richness, suff’ring gain
like God in debt, Who owns the world yet paid
and we now twice in debt to Him remain
a shadow of the sacrifice He made
And life is blood, and sweat, and debt unpaid
rewarded by a God Who loved and slaved
Phil Wyman: Dim Saesneg 