HUSHAI

If it was after David worshipped             (2 Samuel 15: 30-37)
On the summit of the mount of Olives
That Hushai appeared, yet it was
Torn-clothed and with earth on
His head.  To be no burden to
The king he was sent be
Faithful in the false court.
There deluding Absalom by
His honesty: “Long live the king  ….”     (2 Samuel 16: 16-18)
(Over the water) he masterfully
Acted treacherously for truth,
For if he loved pureness of heart,
With grace on his life not only
In the cabinet was he the king’s            (1 Chronicles 27: 33)

Friend: the king was his friend.             (Proverbs 22: 11)  

               

A Few Final Views of the Firth of Forth and Blackness Castle

GLORY TO GOD ...

(Luke 2: 14; Judges 9: 8-15)

Glory to God,

Secured by God, in the highest;

 - be an olive tree

Its expressed fatness

Honouring God.

And on earth peace

In the Child who shall be peace

 - be a fig tree,

Bearing, already, sweetness

Of the day of the Prince of peace.

Good pleasure in men,

Through One it will please God to bruise;

 - be a vine

Producing that new wine

That cheers God and men.

(Ramsay Bing 20/12/2025)

More of Blackness Castle and the Firth of Forth

And to whom hath the arm of Jehovah been revealed?

And to whom hath the arm of Jehovah 
Been revealed?

To those whom He has redeemed
With a stretched-out arm.

Whose pursuers, by the greatness of His arm,
Are still as stone.

Who have learned that underneath are
The eternal arms.

Whom His arm is not shortened

That it cannot save. 

On the Union Canal

This May's brood of swans on Straiton Pond

Who hath believed our report?

Prophets had delivered
Their report: telling of God's
Power and love, His Servant,
His coming, suffering and triumph:
A drum roll.  But had to ask:
Who hath believed our report?

Apostles have spoken: trumpets
With more certain sound, for they
Report what they have seen: a Man
Triumphant over sin and death
Sits glorified.  Still they must ask:
Who hath believed our report?

And feeble saints have whispered,
Or roared the report:
Written it on parchment or
Paper; printed it, broadcast it,
Posted it; yet still must ask:
Who hath believed our report?

The Lord Himself testified it;
The Father endorsed it, and Him;
The Holy Spirit joined His help
To men preaching in weakness.
Still They must send the challenge:

Who hath believed our report? 

Cullen, Moray, Scotland

Did you heed the word God spoke?

 

Did you heed the word God spoke?

May His grace be told!

Did you know God's word awoke?

Lo! His grace was bold!

Christ grew as a tender shoot

May His grace be told!

Desert sands around His root

Lo! His grace was bold!

Holden eyes could not discern

May His grace be told!

Beauties God would have us learn

Lo! His grace was bold!

Darkened hearts would not esteem

May His grace be told!

Beauties which are heaven's theme.

Lo! His grace was bold!

Now my lightened heart can see

May His grace be told!

What He bore He bore for me

Lo! His grace was bold!

(This continues thoughts I had on Isaiah 53 in varying poetic forms during 2020.)

St Anthony's Chapel on Arthur's Seat, Edinburgh

Who hath believed ... ?

 

          The trumpet's clear note;

Yet ploughmen plough, tradesmen trade

          And courtiers court.

The Sea Front at Longniddry, East Lothian

The River Esk at Musselburgh

Have you received the message that God sent?

 

Have you believed the message that God sent?        

Have you received His pure since-time-began

Prophets? Consider all that He has spent;

And since men disbelieved He sent His Son

To let you know His heart.  In grace He pleads

And shows you that He longs to fill your heart;

In Christ He has the answer to your needs:

Repent, go out from hence; depart, depart!

 

And has the Lord revealed His arm to you?

It is not shortened that it cannot save;

He will redeem you with a stretched-out arm

And what unbounded blessings will ensue!

He’ll ransom you from all that might enslave

Through One who came here with no worldly charm.

Around the Black Barony Estate, Scottish Borders

LIPS

"And I said, Woe unto me! 

for I am undone; 

for I am a man of unclean lips, 

and I dwell in the midst 

of a people of unclean lips";

"Asps' poison is under their lips" ...

But there is a Man, 

Of whom it can be said,

"His lips lilies, dropping liquid myrrh":

Pure word, sprung from suffering love,

For grace is poured into His lips.

While "He that loveth pureness of heart, 

upon whose lips is grace" -

May I have this blessing! -

"The king is his friend".

He has His answer in someone

Whose "lips are like a thread of scarlet",

Bright as Rahab's signal.

... One of the seraphim

Took the glowing coal

From the altar, and said,

"Behold, this hath touched thy lips; 

and thine iniquity is taken away, 

and thy sin expiated".

Joshua 2: 21

Psalm 45: 2

Proverbs 22:11

Song of Solomon 4:3

Song of songs 5: 13 

Isaiah 6: 5

Romans 3: 13

Straiton Pond (again)

THE BALLANT O MORDECAI

 

Oh hae ye nae heard o Haman the fause,
Or o Mordecai the true;
Though the king wad honour Haman the fause,
Mordecai wadna boo.

Than Haman proclaimit, Thon chiel’s a Jew:
If he winna boo tae me
Nae him alane but a his fowk
As shair’s I leeve shall dee.

Sae the Jews a wept, an the Jews a wailed;
Mordecai rendit his claes;
Till the queen heard o’it, an speirt at him
The caas o a his waes.

Fer the queen wis o Mordecai’s freens
Whilk Haman didna ken;
Fer the God a haivin hid aa in His haunds,
An He’s wyser far nor men.

Noo if ye went afore the king
An he wis pleasit wi ye
He’s haud oot his gowden staffie tae ye:
If he didna, ye waud dee.

Aiblins, quo the queen, the king’ll haud oot
His gowden staffie tae me;
Aiblins he’ll no, sae fast fer me,
An if I dee, I dee.

Trumlin she stood afore the king:
He held his staffie oot!
Fer God Himsel hid gaen afore
An skailit ony doubt.

Sae she axed the king an Haman tae dine,
An Haman wis unco prood;
No aince but twice he got the invite,
Though it did the sorra nae good.

But aar at time hid cam ae nicht
The king he couldna sleep
Sae they read till him frae the record beuk
That aa guid kingdom’s keep.

It tellt hoo Mordecai the Jew
Hid saivit the monarch’s heid;
But they fund at naethin guid wis deen
Tae thank fer his guid deed.
Sae the king, he askit Haman as syne
As Haman cam intil sicht:
Whit sall be deen until the chiel
In wham the king his delicht?

Noo Haman thocht wad the king delicht
In ony forbye mysel?
Gie him, quoth he, yer ane claes tae weir
An yer steid tae ride as well.

Noo dae it, Haman, tae Mordecai
An cry afore him richt:
Thus sall be deen until the chiel
In wham the king his delicht.

Sae Haman hid to lead the hoarse
An tell o the king’s guid fame;
An ochone, carked Haman, ochone is me
Whan he gat back till his dame.

Fer he’d askit o Mordecai his dame
Whit she thocht at he suld dee;
An she tellt him to bigg a hangrell
At wis fifty cubits hie.

Syne he cam with the king until Esther’s feast
An thon wis a graun soiree;
Sae the king speirt at her, sin he wis sae blithe,
Whit d’ye wish fer me tae dee?

My fowk, the Jows, and yer queen, masel,
Are sellit till a wickit fae man;
And the bangster wha’d kill us a if he could
Is nane but thon wickit Haman.

Thar a hangrell fifty cubit hie,
Ledged ane, near Haman’s hoose.
Hing him hie upo it, bade the king;
Mak siccar fause Haman’s noose.

He pit his signet ring on the haun
O Mordecai the true;
An he went oot frae him weirin a croon
An cled in whicht and blue.

The Jews wha newlins hid aa been sad
Noo shooted lood wi glee;
Fer God hid warked ahin it aa
As He wull ayeweys dee.                                                                                     

31/05/2025

A little excursion into using the Scots language, the form being like a border ballad.  

More of Inchcolm Island, including the view from the priory ruins towards Edinburgh.

GRACE by E L Bevir

 (Numbers 17 and 20)

The Ruler in Jeshurun

Had seen the camp rebel,

No word of law nor menace

Could their loud murmuring quell:

Nor the dread trump proclaiming

Jehovah's awful name

Nor rolling clouds of Sina,

Torn by the lightening's flame.

Take the green rod of Aaron,

Near the Shekinah kept,

That blossomed in the night-time

While selfish Israel slept;

The flowers and fruit in clusters

Miraculously grew - 

O branch of grace and mercy

To lead the people through!

The fountain of fresh waters

Ever and ever flows,

The service in the highest

No interruption knows;

The great High Priest, untiring

Presents us to His God;

For ever bright and vernal

Buds the fair almond rod.

E.L.Bevir (1847-1922)

In the grounds of Paxton House; the river is the Tweed, the border between Scotland and England at this point.

SHEPHERD

 

Struggling through the biting winds
He visited
Those about to perish.

Through harsh thorns and clogging mud
He sought
That which was strayed away.

In chilling nights and cracking rain
He healed the wounded,
Fed the sound.

He is the worthy shepherd
That does not leave his flock.

(Compare Zechariah 11:16)

A Trip to the South West

The Firth of Clyde and the Isle of Arran. 

SARAH

 

You had some husband ‑ dragging you
From civilization and comfort to dwell,
Season after season, in a tent. Neither
Sand deterred nor fertility halted:
Always he loved his vision ‑ which you,
With a wife's common sense, laughed at.
Did long miles and years drain your strength,
Perils of the wayside and in king's palaces
Fray your nerves? Finally, with nothing
But faith to cling to, you found strength
Nature could not provide. With Abraham
You saw Isaac ‑ Christ's day;
And insisted that he alone remain.

If feet still trudged arid or arable
Heart had its peace ‑ its sought country.

Craigmillar Castle in Edinburgh:

associated with Mary Queen of Scots

ABRAHAM

You had felt the land's tilth
Ooze lushly, the land's desert
Sand your feet, its barren rocks
Graze and bruise. You tent's pegs
Had beaten into arid and arable
Ground of your promised land. Never
Had your share dug deep. Although
All was your own your only possession
A grave plot. But there was the possession
Gained from earth, dust and stone
On the hardened feet of you, the wanderer.

And possession of faith. Not human hope against hope
Nor the dull grasping of the disturbed thought through the crust
Of scepticism. But the certainty of trust in the Lord Almighty
‑ The admirable demonstration of bold credulity.
You, like God, saw the things that are not as existing.

Nomadic, but still a builder,
You cast earth, heaped rocks,
Not forms of grand appearance
But created from the textures you knew ‑
Altars. Rough but vital
They stand as milestones on your pilgrimage
Marking, guiding, smoking:
Each altar drew you nearer,
Higher, to become friend of God,
Ready approacher ‑ a priest's service.

Glencorse Reservoir in the Pentland Hills