The Covenant King
Who dares pursue Him, the Covenant King?
Oh, He is professed in such wondrous lore.
Who dares to trek to the top of His mountain,
And rap with their knuckles, outside of His door?
Who dares to call on the Name of the Mighty?
Desiring to know and be intimately known?
Who longs for the Person, the One who is worthy?
Who no longer places themselves on the throne?
Why would a King of eternal, great power,
Spend time with a child? Why, it doesn’t make sense.
And why, for the one who is faithless and lawless,
Would such a wise King send the Covenant Prince?
And how could a King with affairs of the nation,
Have time for the petty concerns of my day?
Generally speaking, He governs quite fairly,
But how can He care in a personal way?
The gently falling winter snow, the silence as it covers all
The blanket of the world of white, though muffled, she can hear His call.
Beating hearts are all around but in their burrows, buried deep.
The trees and plants and bushes now
Are dormant in their winter’s sleep.
The flakes are falling one by one, unique, but in a second, gone.
Catherine hears the call again. She grabs a shawl and puts it on.
Down the steps of frozen stone, through the yard so still and white,
Between the massive castle gates, the darkening of coming night.
She finds the narrow, ancient road meandering steeply up the cliff,
She feels the chilling in her bones as harder snow begins to drift.
She climbs until her breath is gone.
His call is growing stronger.
At last, her destination.
For she couldn’t climb much longer.
Smoke from a chimney stack, ah there was warmth…
And this meant a fire to drive out the cold.
She’d made it at last; she had reached the plateau,
The home of the King, and He called it the ‘Hold’.
The structure was stone, natural stone from the mountain,
Carved from the mountain, atop of the peak,
Inviting, so welcome; yet, somehow a fortress,
Easy to find for the one who would seek.
She stared at the Hold, surprised that she found it,
Surprised no one stopped her: no guard and no trick,
Maybe He’s gone or He’ll send me away….
And now He will know me….. Her fears made her sick.
A simple wood door with an elegant latch,
Light, yellow Light, from between every crack,
Catherine was sure that her heart gave a tug,
I’m going to meet Him before I go back!
The snow had been trampled by numerous men,
By starlight and moonlight, where others had been,
Now Catherine could say that she did what she could,
She stepped toward the door, and she rapped on the wood.
The King sees the soul, and He woes it. He calls it.
The beckon, the carnal mind tends to resist.
The Spirit awakens the soul to the longing.
And answers the call of the King, “I insist!
Come to My mountain.
I stand at the door.
Come, for I love you.
Don’t wait anymore.
A knock… and a turn…and a door…opening,
“Welcome, my love. I’m the Covenant King.”