Poetry

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The Secret Place

I have a secret place I go
As did the priest of old.
God did prepare this place for me
With just one lamp of gold.

It is the “Holy of Holies”
Draped in Hides and skins
Animals sacrificed and curtains made
At the east gate I enter in

Sweet smell of incense
Lights dance from its walls.
Revealing your shewbread,
To your table I’m called.

Shimmering gold
And shine from pressed oil.
Here I find my rest
I’m freed from my toil.

Your presence so moving
I fall to my knees,
Then lay prostrate before you.
My Savior I see.

I come before you alone.
My roles cease to exist.
Blessed peace overcomes me.
My heart has been kissed.

Your love is so pure,
Not given to chance.
But from Jesse’s root
I find your righteous branch.

This vine I do cling to,
All I have I would sell.
To be hid in your shadow,
This place I would dwell.

N. Clark 2003

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