In Robe of White, lamp lit bright, so You know who we are, Come to Snatch your Bride away, unto a yonder Star. We know you're near, and yet your far, Until we're Home, and Yours we are.
Harvest of the Bride
By Arley Steinhour 051412
(This 37th Day of Omer, Lyyar 22, 5772)
Father God, with all my might,
I come with broken heart, contrite,
The world's insane, and wants a fight,
No way to fix, until you set things right.
Insanity seems to rule the day,
Doing good has just gone away,
I wish I had much more to say,
How do you keep from going Gray?
I pray I've read the Bible right,
That you come, most any night,
I know I'll be a disheveled sight,
Unless the Moon's not shining bright.
I try to write a praise so true,
Words come out like worn out shoe,
Praise so bad, I'm feeling Blue,
But, even bad, I'm Praising you.
Shavuot, twelve days away,
Feast of harvest, Father does say,
Go get your Bride, and Snatch away,
Settle down, in new home stay.
The party starts on thirteenth day,
With Shabbat done, it's time to play,
The crop is in the barn to stay,
Start new generation, without delay.
Is this the year of Trumpet call,
Or Bridegroom giving shout to all,
He'll come with friends, so none do fall,
Lamp filled, wick trimmed, heart to enthrall.
I pray God says the Time is Right,
That you may come, that wondrous night,
For those a watching, wondrous sight,
Quarter Moon, and Stars, shining bright.