This is the message, regardless of me
 - though I will a suitable exhibit be -
 that mankind is full of potential and sin.
 The first can be grown, the latter spread thin
 but never could Holiness look upon that
 and see not that layer which coateth us fat,
 and marbles our innards, our inner-out state
 which warrants a payment in blood be made;
 Now, taking the plight of the world in his hands
 Our God took on physical tendons and strands, 
 the God of aseity incarnate dwelled,
 set face to the cross and wounds which swelled
 to pulse with blood and the pain of flesh
 delivering justice, his grace and rest. 
  
 What shall we do with salvation so great?
 How can we turn from the old rugged gate?
 Oh, but we dwell on the question of why
 one rescuer came and no other. And by
 the passing of time we find that we stood
 unmoved as we wrote of this way of wood.
 We sing of its wonders while standing aside
 or building, rejecting all bigoted pride,
 alternative theory, religion or lord
 to come and deny or save from the sword
 when plainly He said it, there's no other way
 to come to the father, no name we can say
 but the name of the son, that is, Jesus the man
 who claimed to be Yahweh as no other can.
  
 Come to the Lord and hear what he said.
 Repent of your sin and take glory instead. 

Cf. 1 Samuel 4. — Israel, having ignored God and his warnings, nevertheless attempted to use the ark of his presence to their benefit. He had, however, left already. Old fat Eli and his idolatrous sons died, and his daughter-in-law went into labour and died from the trauma. This is a poem for that child in the wake of tragedy, whose mother pronounced the truth of it all.

Ichabod (Hebrew: אִיכָבוֹד‎, ikhavod — no glory, inglorious or “where is the glory?”)

Oh Ichabod, your mother is dead.
And your grandfather has fallen.
And your father, and his brother,
dishonourably dischargèd.

You are firstborn in the gloryless land,
and the idolised ark has gone
to Ashdod with the coastal men,
and God has dealt his hand.

Oh, Ichabod, weep, as Dagon bows.
Your mother saw it first.
And now you face the stark unveiled
reality of Israel’s broken vows.