Too busy with velvets and materials of worth,
Too busy with pleasant little islands of mirth,
Too busy doing the “duties” of earth,
Too busy for Pretty, Baby Jesus.
Too busy in commerce and trading of stocks,
Too busy in making, and watching the clocks,
Too busy storing silver behind big locks,
Too busy for the Pre-teen Jesus.
Too busy buying and selling fishing boats,
Too busy sowing and reaping, barley and oats,
Too busy sewing second and third coats,
Too busy for a Preaching Jesus.
Too busy getting the best rooms at the feast,
Too busy adjusting to ever-spreading yeast,
Too busy to care for the little, and the least,
Too busy for the Prophetic Jesus.
Too busy calling others to mourn or dance,
Too busy lustily casting the side-ways glance,
Too busy “counting chickens” in advance,
Too busy for Pronouncing Jesus.
And when we’ve sowed all the wild stuff we can sow,
And we’re reaping it, row after 100-fold row,
And sin finally has lost its false tinsel and show.
We may find the Christ, for whom time was never made;
Has left us. We won’t be too busy in the tomb’s shade. –eab, 7/05
Separate-Holy 