Like gossamer embroidery
Above the canvas of the sea
The morning spills across the lea
In mercy’s kind bestowing
Life’s imperfection’s of the past
Are stitched in place; knotted, re-cast
The threads of this new day held fast
In Hands above our knowing
What is to be must first pass through
The fingers hidden from our view
We ought to do what we must do
With our best endeavor
For when this little day is done
And sealed beyond the setting sun
Our stitches cannot be un-spun
Today we shape forever
Behold; grace has not rent the thread
Nor severed us from mercy’s bread
He parts the darkness overhead
Unfurling pardon’s glory
Behold; to hands, fumbling and small
He gifts new threads; our tangled ball
Is done away; new stitches fall
Oh, what will be their story?
© Janet Martin
Morning mist blankets the dell in gossamer cloth…
For he that sows to his flesh shall of the flesh reap corruption; but he
that sows to the Spirit shall of the Spirit reap life everlasting. And let us not be weary in well doing: for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not. As we have therefore opportunity, let us do good to all men, especially to them who are of the household of faith. Gal. 6:8-10
Whether we're sowing or sewing, we owe our fellowmen and God our best!
I sigh at the beauty and the grace in this poem.
ReplyDeleteI love the imagery you've stitched in place for us... and I catch the hopefulness as well as the challenge of living our best as each new day dawns.
I take great comfort in the lines:
He gifts new threads; our tangled ball is done away; new stitches fall.
I do so enjoy that word 'gossamer'.
I like that word too.probably i over-use it but it is so expressive and touches the senses.
ReplyDeleteThank-you for your words...those two lines took four times longer than the whole rest of the poem. Again, thank-you and God bless. I'm enjoying your 'new' blog:)
This is beautiful. I especially love that first stanza. Wow!
ReplyDelete