Sunday 30 July 2023


When Moses asked that Hobab should be eyes
To Israel in the paths they were to trace
Across the waste, God caused the Ark to rise
And guide His people to their resting place.
For three days' journey it was in the lead
And over them there was the cloud by day
That God might answer to the people's need
Whilst teaching them to follow in His way.
Still in the testimony Christ exerts
His right to lead His people into rest;
If we seek other pathways He asserts,
And shows us, that His way is always best.
Lord, give me help that I may not enmesh
My feet by following in the ways of flesh.

(This refers to Numbers 10: 33; normally the cloud led.)

Loch Lomond from Inversnaid

Friday 28 July 2023


Within the Ark the tables of the law
Which God had written on by His own hand
Were cared for ‑  in the Ark Jehovah saw
His testimony carried to the land.
There was the manna in the golden pot
And Aaron's rod which budded ‑  evidence
Of what was suited to Jehovah's thought
And of the good it pleased Him to dispense.

And thus God's law was treasured in Christ's heart
As all His will was perfectly expressed;
While blessings God in Christ chose to impart
Delight Himself and those whom He has blessed.

Oh blessed Spirit, help my soul rejoice
In what in Christ makes Him the Father's choice!

More of Loch Katrine

Friday 21 July 2023



Hands of the priests alone could touch the Ark

To robe it in the glory of the veil
And safety of the badgers' skins to embark
Across the wilderness's arid trail;
But all was swathed in blue. The sombre tones
Of all around as it went forth to seek
A resting place through desert sand and stones
Show once again the Ark to be unique.

And thus the heavenly Man moved in a scene
Foreign to Him; but if He laid aside
Some of His glories His distinctive mien
Showed heavenly grace which flesh could never hide.

While each true Israelite, in heaven's view,
Should also wear a thread of heavenly blue.

Views of Loch Katrine
The poetic interest of Loch Katrine is that it was the scene of Sir Walter Scott's poem "The Lady of the Lake". SS Sir Walter Scott still sails the loch.

Sunday 16 July 2023



The Ark of God upheld the Mercy‑seat
Where stretched the pinions of the cherubim:
From here the word of God, and men, can meet
Since God had found all suitable to Him.
All was of gold; and all God's righteousness
Set forth for men in mercy may unfold.
God has secured an avenue to bless
From this place forth: since blood was on the gold.

God's rights in mercy have been fully met

Because the blood of Jesus has sufficed
To satisfy the heart of God and set
Him free to speak to every man in Christ.

Eternally God has before His sight

The blood of Him in whom He has delight.

Aberfoyle; four from the bridge, and one of the bridge.

Tuesday 11 July 2023


Out of the wilderness, yet sap‑embrued,

As if it grew where it did not belong

The acacia seasoned to acacia wood:

"How pliable, how durable, how strong!".

Yet see one's skilful workmanship enfold

Wood, measured to its own distinctive marque,

Inside and outside, with the finest gold

To integrate one vessel, God's own Ark.

We see perfection in humanity,

Suitable to sustain and to express

The glory inherent in divinity

Even while journeying in the wilderness.

Beholding One so near, and yet beyond

All human thought, we willingly respond.

Monday 3 July 2023


Why do the mighty Jordan's waters turn?
Does a great barrier thwart their onward urge
Or some vast tempest's concentration spurn,
For once, the vigour of its downward surge?
No. Just an Ark. Its littleness prevails:
Though men might deem it insignificant
Yet by God's power its presence countervails
Where flood before were always dominant.

Only a man to men's self‑holden sight,
The Christ advanced to meet death's awesome power;
And through God's strength and His inherent right
Quelled it and freed men it once forced to cower.

For while death's torrent rages as before
We stand with Christ upon the other shore.

An old one reposted from a sequence on the Ark.

Near Aberdeen, and the fishing boat named, I think, after my great-grandmother, the Lizzie Brown