Tuesday, July 3, 2012

Half a Mustard Seed

I’ve always known my faith untried
Might be but half a mustard seed
Yet I know I cannot sustain
The depth of my most trivial need
And so I reach beyond myself
For this I know most certainly
There is a higher Hand to grasp
Although its form I cannot see

How can I know until it’s tried
The measure of faith’s depth or creed
I have trembled, prayed and cried
As I beheld my mustard seed
But as the unknown road of life
Tries me in its turn and twist
I reach above this temporal strife
To unseen Truths I know exist

I cannot see this Hand above
But oh, I feel its tender touch
It surrounds with His love
And I don’t worry quite so much
Humbly I whisper, for a spark
Though it is half a mustard seed
Will glimmer through the darkest dark
And render peace in spite of need

© Janet Martin


  1. Oh, Janet!! You're a beacon of faith for Him!! Thank you, just the prayer needed before sleep... I love your middle stanza. So beautiful!

  2. This is so beautiful. I used to have a mustard seed necklace when I was a child. I wonder where it is today!


Thank you for your visit to this porch. I'd love to hear if or how this post/poem touched you!