As the deer longs for flowing streams, So my soul longs to be with God the Father. My soul has yearned for God all these years! When shall I appear before God's face? My tears have become my daily bread, For they say to me all day long: "Where is your God?" A hard hour has come for me, As though I had lost hope and love. When I recall this now, How I walked among the multitude each day, I pour out my soul in tears, For I led them all to God's house With songs of sincere praise and thanksgiving, A festive crowd... Why are you sad, my soul? Be hopeful in God, for I will yet Give thanks to the Creator For His mercy, sent from heaven. My soul longs within me: "O, my King!" For I remember You always From the land of Jordan, where Hermon and Zoar are. And as deep calls to deep At the roar of Your waterfalls, all Your waves and billows have passed over me, For You hold everything in Your mighty hand! By day the Lord displays His mercy, At night His song is with me always. I have boldness to pray to Him, For God is the foundation of my life! I speak to God in this troubled day: "You are my rock, why have You forgotten me? Why do I wander sad through the world, Oppressed by my enemy's cruelty, As though I had gathered sorrow? It's as though they cruelly break my bones, I am weary of deception and dread, My enemies mock me always, Saying all day long: 'Where is your God?' My soul, why are you sad and weeping? Why are you troubled within me? Hope in God, for soon you shall see— I will praise Him all my days!"
September 1, 2003
**If God Grants It, and It Be His Will**
It was long ago in Ukraine, in the NEP time, When reapers mowed the fields with scythes, And liners had not yet flown through the sky, And blind kobzar singers sang at markets. There lived then a happy couple, For when the civil war had ended, After their wedding, the family, so kind, Inherited from father a mill, Rich land with a great pond, beautiful, A wonderful garden with pears and cherries, A farm with cattle, horses, and sheep, And a plot where grapes grew well. And the family began to prosper, They went to church always together, And helped the poor people in the village— And God blessed them in this work. The old and the children loved them. And after some time they came To possess great wealth of goods, Having stored up for several years Barley, millet, wheat and rye, And livestock brought them increase too. To preserve this and live better, They built two new granaries and a house. But then the man began to grow proud, That he had become the richest in the village, And he turned away from God's Word, And became arrogant even in his own family. One morning he had a great worry, Much concerned with earthly affairs, He said to his wife: "When you finish work, Make me varenyky tonight." "If God grants it, and it be His will," She said, "then you will eat them in the evening." He grew angry: "What is God's will? If I provide everything, knead the dough!" "Don't be angry," she replied, "Go to work in peace today, I don't want war between us." All day he labored. Coming home, He removed his clothes and boots, And to rest a bit from his fatigue, He took a plate of varenyky in the kitchen, Placed it on the table, sat down on a chair, Stuck one on his fork, lifted it up, And said to his wife: "Your God Has disappeared, He's gone..." He didn't finish The varenyky to his mouth, When suddenly he heard a shot in the yard. He looked in the window—someone had opened the gate And killed the dog. An insistent knock Thundered at the door. He didn't have time to rise When Bolsheviks burst in, And with his wife he couldn't exchange a word, For they immediately pointed sharp bayonets at him. They took the house and mill and livestock, And the best field in their village; They left only an old little cottage And a very tiny piece of land. They told him he was an enemy of the people, For he didn't want to go willingly to the collective farm, And so that he wouldn't trouble people anymore, They took him to the wild Siberian forests. And there until nineteen fifty-three He wasted away at logging camps in tents, Until the end of his sentence came, When the "father of the peoples" died. Coming home late one evening, He knocked on the door and behind it heard: "Who is it?" his wife asked tearfully. And he trembled, for from these words he felt That luck had smiled on him again, Though he had suffered much in his brief life: "If God grants it, and it be His will, Then it is I... your Ivan... your husband!" It seems life had taught him well, That in this world there is an Eternal and righteous God, For he, when he fell into the Lord's mill, Drew a good conclusion... Once again together They went to God's House And loved Jesus Christ and all people.
September 15, 2003
**I Did Not Lose, But Gave** *(After Vira Kushnir)*
No one has greater love than this, to lay down one's soul for one's friends. John 15:13
Soldiers returned from war In cold freight cars. Wives and children, and parents Awaited them all on platforms. Not all returned in those days— Their families waited in vain: Of them only memories remained In the heart's recollection.
One mother stood there alone, A kerchief falling on her shoulders, And among those arriving She searched for her only son. Someone showed her a bench: Wrapped in something, upon it He sat, as though lying down, Not looking anyone in the eye.
"Son, don't you know me? I am your mother, look at me." "I'm blind," he said quietly, "Come closer to me, mother." "My son," such suffering immense, You seem unlucky, For you have lost legs and arms and sight... "I did not lose them, but gave them all.
There is a difference in this lesson: Everything can be lost in vain, But he who gives his life For humanity—that sacrifice is pleasing. So too the Son of God—our Savior Gave Himself as a sacrifice for people. A question sounds to us: What will we do now?
Life all—to Jesus Christ, And our time—we'll sacrifice to our brother, And having given God our beauty, We will not mourn our loss. Life lived not without purpose, That body did not die in vain— The soul that in the Name of Christ Accomplished holy God's work!
