His Mercy

Mercy paints the lintel of a grand and glorious dawn
As we allow regret to fade on ruby-tinted lawn

His Light dispels the morbid gloom of ever-taunting fear
How sweet the moment in our palm when held by One so dear

Dare we to run this race today with feet bare and unshod?
Or face the enemy alone without the hand of God?

His Word is pure abiding Hope unhindered by the flight
Of moments folding into years or noontide into night

I hold within my trembling grip a Surety divine
For He will lead, guide and direct this faltering step of mine

His mercy paints the lintel in dawn’s breath-taking display
As we behold His faithfulness turn nighttime into day

Janet Martin


The heavens declare the glory of God;
the skies proclaim the work of his hands. Ps. 19:1

Because of the LORD’s great love we are not consumed,
for his compassions never fail.
23 They are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness. Lam. 3:22-23


Your word is a lamp for my feet,
a light on my path. Ps. 119:105

The Way

Lord, how can we know the way
We have not walked before?
The glowering skies dull and gray
And we are weak and poor
Lord, we have no gifts to offer you
In tidings of this earth
Our treasures here are paltry few
And not of any worth

Oh Lord, how oft we are inclined
To sink in bleak despair
When suddenly you stir our minds
As we reach out in prayer
You open up our tear-dimmed eyes
And whisper patiently
‘I am the Way, the Truth and Life,
My child, come unto Me

The ways of earth I have ordained
And child, you need not bring
To Me the first-fruits of My hand
As sin’s vain offering
There is but one thing of true worth
That I desire of Thee
Forsaking other gods you serve
To come and follow Me’

Janet Martin


Thomas said to him, “Lord, we don’t know where you are going, so how can we know the way?”

6 Jesus answered, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me. John 14:5-6

When We Look Up

With downcast eye we see life’s grief
Its wretchedness and dirt
We see throngs blind with unbelief
Imprisoned by their hurt
We see dark cradles of despair
The hopelessness of sin
It robs our trembling lips of prayer
Lord, where can we begin?

In loathsome corridors of filth
The groveling captive lie
Doom lurks above in silent stealth
Until at last they die
Cold sorrow hovers like a shroud
The darkness closes in
We lift our voices, cry aloud
Lord, where can we begin…?

…and as we lift our distraught eyes
Above the hopelessness
Morning breaks across the skies
In shades of faithfulness
He lights the dawn to rise upon
The rich man and the poor
As He cries out to everyone
‘Behold, I am the Door’

He makes the blinded eye to see
Beyond the grief and hurt
And draws our gaze to bloom and tree
Sprouting from the dirt
As we cry, where do we begin?
And lift our eyes; undone
He lets the glorious Light shine in
As we behold the Son

Janet Martin~




Now no one can look at the sun,
bright as it is in the skies
after the wind has swept them clean.
22 Out of the north he comes in golden splendor;
God comes in awesome majesty.
23 The Almighty is beyond our reach and exalted in power;
in his justice and great righteousness, he does not oppress.
24 Therefore, people revere him,
for does he not have regard for all the wise in heart? Job 37:21-24

Finding Purpose

Sometimes, as the gold threads of daylight are waning
And all its brief moments are garnered like mist,
When the hand gently open on fringes of dawning
Soundlessly closes in a tightly-clenched fist,
As I try to separate beginning from ending
Only to see a perpetual blending
I am perplexed with deep melancholy
Vexed by life’s seeming futility

Do I stand at the end or a brand new beginning
As daylight surrenders to night’s turning page?
Is there any purpose to this life I am living?
Or are moments vague actors on time’s phantom stage?
I reach to touch a tangible truth
And long for the rush of undeterred youth
Is there a victory to this race I am in?
The ‘what was or what is or what might have been’?

I gaze to the heaven’s unfathomable distance
Layers of space upon space with no end
A vault that could swallow ten-thousand oceans
Or wink at an eternity in each grain of sand
Yet greater than this grand infinity
Is an undeniable eternity
A-waiting each soul that departs from this earth
So then, death is a beginning greater than birth

The somnolent stirring of leaves gives no answer
Exteriors seem cold, indifferent and base
Fear is an ache and interminable hunger
Nothing is permanent…nothing but grace
His grace is greater than anything
Our perfect Creator gives this life meaning
His grace saves the soul that will not die
And thus, by the grace of God go I

Janet Martin~

I’m not sure I captured in this poem the heart of my pondering…
It began with my 13 yr.old son’s off-handed remark about there really being no point to anything because everything ends…he was talking about fun.
Later my husband remarked that the problem with good moments is that they end…
And I asked him do they? Or is what we see as the end really the beginning of the next moment which could be better but we don’t know because we have not yet lived it. Okay, futile subject, I know. But I did get to thinking about how empty every moment is at its base level. We were created by God and within us is a place that only He can fill. And only as He fills that place can we find genuine peace and purpose. The created needs the Creator. Our life is a gift. Don’t we want to know the Giver?

I love the book of Ecclesiastes, and I love these verses from Ephesians 2:



But because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, 5 made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions—it is by grace you have been saved. 6 And God raised us up with Christ and seated us with him in the heavenly realms in Christ Jesus, 7 in order that in the coming ages he might show the incomparable riches of his grace, expressed in his kindness to us in Christ Jesus. 8 For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God— 9 not by works, so that no one can boast. 10 For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.

Constant Comfort

We cannot know what may befall
Or sweep across earth’s sands
But this we know, God is our guide
And we are in his hands

The bittersweet of life’s swift bloom
May draw a sudden tear
But what calm fortitude to know
That God is always near

Life’s quick and constant shifting tide
Prevails across the land
But changeless is the One who holds
Us in His tender hands

Janet Martin

Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, today and forever. Heb 13:8