The Table

written by Reuben Kendall, August 2022

for call and response, with corporate response in bold text 



Good shepherd you guide me beside still water  

where the grass grows green and sweet; 

you set a table for me 

in the presence of my enemies, 

and your heart’s own love is the feast. 


And my enemies who sit in your pews said, 

the food is not for you, 

and I believed them and did not eat. 


You filled my cup with wine 

until it overflowed in the presence of my foes, 


And my foes who stand in your pulpits told me, 

the cup is not for you, 

and I believed them and did not drink; 



You set sweets of honey and ripe fruit before me, 

you said “Taste and see that I am good” 



And my enemies who lie 

at the windows of my heart 

sang to me in the dark, 

and said I must earn your love, 

and I believed them and held back. 






I have watched heavy laden tables rot away 

while I stood waiting unseated and unsure, 

oh dear companion of my soul; 


My enemies have stood apart, 

watching as abundance set for me decayed; 

they revel to watch it waste 

as I should revel to taste it; 



You have cleared the dishes, 

placed new ones; 

invited me again and again; 


The seat beside you remains empty; 

there is room at your breast 

for your beloved to recline, 

and your eyes entreat me to lie there; 


My enemies scold me, a murder of carrion birds;  

they are incapable of tasting sweetness 

in anything but rot; 

they gorge themselves on my grief. 


God, grant me against their delight 

the strength to sit beside you; 

grant me against their lies 

the might to lie down softly on your breast; 




Set and continue to set your table for me in their sight; 

Spread your feast before me and let them see it; 


Grant me against their malice 

my lips stained red from the rich cup you pour me; 

grant me against their hunger 

the food you laid for me fragrant in my nostrils, 

the bread you break for me warm from your palms! 



Oh grant me against their hearts’ desires  

honey on my fingertips, 

my lips sticky with the juice of sweet fruits; 

my head against your breast, 


You set a table for me in the presence of my enemies, 

and your heart’s own love is the feast; 

Good shepherd, 

I will sit and eat. 


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