“Holy, Holy, Holy is the LORD” (Chalm’s Rhyming Isaiah: Chapter 6)
It was the year that King Uzziah died,
upon a throne the LORD was lifted high.
I saw him in his robe, the temple filled.
Six-wingèd seraphim. My spirit stilled.
Above him, flew. Two wings for covering
their faces, feet; with two, were hovering.
Unto each other, this is what they called:
“Thrice Holy is the LORD, Almighty God.
His glory fills the earth entirely.”
The doorposts, thresholds shook destructively.
Their thunderous voices, temple filled with smoke.
“My ruin, now,” what I cried. “To me is woe.
“Of unclean lips, I am most certainly.
Of unclean lips as well, my cit’zenry,
and now my eyes the LORD Almighty saw.”
One seraphim snatched from the altar fire.
A coal in hand and towards me then he flew.
With it he touched my mouth. These words ensued:
“See, this has touched your lips; your guilt, away
is taken. No more fear of judgment day.”
I heard his voice then calling out to all.
The LORD asked: “Who will answer now my call?
“Whom shall I send? And who, for us, will go?”
I said, “LORD, here am I. To them below:
send me!” He said, “Go tell them of these things:
these words of God born on angelic wings.
“‘Be ever hearing, but don’t comprehend;
be ever seeing, but can’t apprehend.’
Their hardened hearts are full of callousing.
Their ears are dulled, eyes closed to everything.
Unless their eyes would open, ears would hear,
with understanding, heal their hearts with cheer.’”
I asked the LORD: “How long, this deadening?”
“Until their cities wrecked, as reckoning,
without inhabitant.” This, what he said.
His fatal words, my heart was filled with dread.
“Deserted houses, fields both ruined and bare.
An empty place where no one ever dares.
Until the LORD sends all them far away,
and then the land is utterly forsaked.
And though a tenth of them might yet have stayed,
the land again unto its waste be laid.
But as some tree stumps somehow still withstand,
my holy seed remains here in this land.”
T.H. Chalm 