Sunday, September 23, 2018

After All We Can Do



After All We Can Do

I’d been in that hole for a very long time –
In the dark and the damp, in the cold and the slime.
The shaft was above me; I could see it quite clear,
But there’s no way I ever could reach it from here.
Nor could I remember the world way up there,
So I lost all my hope and gave into despair.

I knew nothing but darkness, the floors, and the walls,
When from off in the distance I heard someone call,
“Get up! Get ready! There’s nothing the matter!
Take rocks and take sticks and build up a fine ladder.”
This had never occurred to me, had not crossed my mind,
So I started to stack all the stones I could find.

When I ran out of stones, the old sticks were my goal,
For some way or another I’d get out of that hole.
So I soon had a ladder that was really quite tall,
And I thought, “I’ll soon leave this place once and for all!”
Then I climbed up my ladder, it was no easy chore –
For from lifting those boulders my shoulders were sore.

So I worked and I climbed and at last had to stop,
For my ladder stopped short – some ten feet from the top.
I climbed back down the ladder and felt all around,
But there were no more boulders nor sticks to be found.
I went back to my ladder and started to cry.
I’d done all I could do; I gave my best try.

But in spite of my work, in this hole I must die,
And all I could do was to sit and think, “Why?”
Was my ladder too short? Or my hole much too deep?
Then from way up on high came a voice: “Do not weep.”
And then hope, love, and faith entered my chest,
As the voice said to me that I’d done my best.

He said, “Nothing’s the matter. There’s reason to hope.
Just climb up your ladder; I’ll throw down my rope.
You have worked very hard, and your labor’s been rough,
But the ladder you’ve built is at last tall enough.”
I climbed up the ladder, then climbed up the cord.
When I stood at the top, there stood the Lord.

I’ve never been happier; my struggle was done.
I blinked in the brightness that came from the Son.
I fell to the ground; his feet did I kiss.
I cried, “What can I do to repay thee for this?”
He looked all around Him – there were holes in the ground.
They had people inside, and were seen all around.

There were thousands of holes that were damp, dark, and deep.
Then the Lord turned to me and He said, “Feed my sheep.”
Then He went on His way to help other lost souls.
And I got right to work, calling down to the holes,
“Get up! Get ready! There’s nothing the matter!
Take rocks and take sticks and build up a find ladder!”

It now was my turn to spread the good word.
The most glorious message that man ever heard.
That there’s One who is willing to save one and all,
And we’ve got to be ready when He gives the call.
He’ll pull us all out of the hole that we’re in,
And save all our souls from death and from sin.
So do not lose faith; there is reason to hope:
Just build up your ladder; He’ll throw down His rope.

Tuesday, September 18, 2018

Be Quiet, Man


With thoughtless and impatient hands
We tangle up the plans
The Lord hath wrought.
And when we cry in pain He saith,
‘Be quiet, man, while I untie the knot.’

- Anonymous


Saturday, September 15, 2018

Tell All the Truth But Tell It Slant

Emily Dickinson

Tell all the truth but tell it slant —
Success in Circuit lies
Too bright for our infirm Delight
The Truth's superb surprise
As Lightning to the Children eased
With explanation kind
The Truth must dazzle gradually
Or every man be blind —

Wednesday, September 12, 2018

She Made Beauty All Around Her

C.S. Lewis, Till We Have Faces: A Myth Retold
"Of Psyche's beauty — at every age the beauty proper to that age — there is only this to be said, that there were no two opinions about it, from man or woman, once she had been seen. It was beauty that did not astonish you till afterwards when you had gone out of sight of her and reflected on it. While she was with you, you were not astonished. It seemed the most natural thing in the world. As the Fox delighted to say, she was 'according to nature'; what every woman, or even every thing, ought to have been and meant to be, but had missed by some trip of chance. Indeed, when you looked at her you believed, for a moment, that they had not missed it. She made beauty all round her. When she trod on mud, the mud was beautiful; when she ran in the rain, the rain was silver. When she picked up a toad — she had the strangest and, I thought, unchanciest love for all manner of brutes — the toad became beautiful."

Saturday, September 8, 2018

The Winds of Fate

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

The Winds of Fate

One ship drives east and another drives west
With the selfsame winds that blow.
’Tis the set of the sails
And not the gales
Which tells us the way to go.

Like the winds of the sea are the ways of fate,
As we voyage along through life:
’Tis the set of a soul
That decides its goal,
And not the calm or the strife.