Sieve

Most Holy Magistrate

Can you believe

Why I hold your everlasting hope

In a gilded winnowing sieve

Father, I wonder: do many confess

In secret, they truly fear your judgment scale

In between the vast voids of stillness

I feel my sieve eternally sift

My weight full of emptiness

So many pious hold their cup overflows

Brimming with holy spiritual water

Living water drips from their split lips

I try hard to fill my hungry sieve

To catch what spills from their cups

Merciful Creator

You crafted jars of clay

I believe to be filled

With Faith, Hope and Love inside

Yet my heart, as a spiritual sieve

Also holds no hate or pride

Most Holy Magistrate

I live and let live

In holding my everlasting hope

To a gilded winnowing sieve

Father, as I lived and breathed

One day I noticed a single drop

Hanging on as long as it could

To the bottom of my divine sieve

So I kept filling the emptiness with hope

That when I passed through your Holy Gates

I would see one dewdrop fall

That here a drop of faith has weight

And I live

To hear the angels say

Can you believe a vessel of clay

Got hold of everlasting life

From a gilded winnowing sieve

© 2026 John Osinga. All rights reserved. St. Thomas, Ontario, Canada.

Genre: Sacred Folk / Singer-Songwriter | Mood: Yearning • Hopeful • Tender