Friday, March 29, 2013

The Seed-Promise


And all in love

                these sufferings come--

Like snow upon the winter's breath.

                We see the lonely earth

                                      buried in death, and wonder


Our eyes are dim,

      our hearts are cold,

                       though aching, though disputing

                                            with the Maker of our souls,

                                                              Who turns the galaxies, unaided.

O, how jaded is our vision!


     beneath the snow,

                within the earth's worn soil

the seed of grace has fallen--

                    These bitter winter winds

cannot have taken

                   its sweet promise.

The breath of spring will come again --

                The icy wind, rebuked,

                                  will flee away,

and day

         redressed in verdant garments,

will dance again through stony trees.

                                         The breeze of comfort

dries the stain of sadness.

                             Where grief was guest

The Son of hope restores . . .

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