You're the God of this City

With the poet's permission, I've borrowed this poem from this week's Community Church e-newsletter. I'm finding it hard to explain quite why it moved me so much, perhaps it's because it showed me just how much I am homesick for this New Edinburgh.

To the new city

In this imagining I see

the tree of Life planted on the Mound

and the river running through all the streets

of the new town and the old,

people stopping to marvel at it

on its journey to heal the nations,

people sipping to taste again and see for themselves that God is good.

I see the seat of government making sure

that not one person has any need unmet,

celebrating God’s plentiful provision for all

and falling on their faces in gratitude and praise.

I see the financial centres working intently

busy calculating who to shower with blessing next!

I see the seats of learning busy, excited,

marvelling at the knowledge of what is,

of what had been so unsuspected.

I see them Enlightened,

revelling in the light and trying to find words to describe it -

falling on their faces in wonder.

I see the High Court busy, not with prisoners in the dock,

but in wonder-full discussion and declamation of God’s full justice

and marvellous wise judgement. They are interrupted often, all overwhelmed

with shouts and tears, loud singing and dancing –

as they see his mercy shining brighter still.

I see the museums extolling him through history and nature -

Dynamic Earth has found its roots at last!

I see the zoo with gates flung wide and marvellous undreamt of creatures emerging

while the lion basks in the sun with the lamb frisking over and around him.

I see the galleries filled with art extolling his creativity,

and many artists working on the steps,

in the gardens,

in the streets around,

so that more and more new expressions will fill the space.

I see musicians on the streets, not busking but enticing folk to sing and dance and praise Him in any way they can.

I see every hall, doors open,

ceilidhers laughing, panting from the dance, spilling out onto the pavement,

and every Fringe venue playing out another new aspect to be appreciated

in awesome wonder.

And every pub is ringing with songs of thanksgiving,

the whisky, long in the cask, now all ready, all at once,

to toast the King who’s come home to Edinburgh.

© ALW 2011