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Innocence Mission Miscellaneous Every Hour Here Every Hour Here --------------- We ride our bikes around the circle in the cemetery, weaving. I wave up to You on the Cross. Am I to come upon You suddenly like this forever? Happy, relieved that You are here and I can see You, I can feel you? You are like the ticket-half I find inside the pocket of my old lead-raking coat. There all the time, all the while, forgotten. I so often seem to leave You in churches and other islands. And on my beads where I can see You, I can feel You. I take the ticket-half and put it on the table, saying, This is God and He's here through my comings and my goings. But I walk past the ticket-half, I walk past the ticket-half. I walk past the ticket-half just as I've walked past the Cross on our wall. Our self-importance grows so dazzling we don't see You. But Gentle Jesus, aren't You always, aren't You every hour here? |
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