Hard words, Lord Christ! For what good fruits bear I?
For all your care and tending, what my yield?
You gave me to a garden well concealed
and watered me from fountains set on high;
you fertilized me with a wondrous food
and sent a Wind to strengthen and make straight.
How patiently you prune and pollenate
with an expert arborist’s solicitude.
And still my good works fall to earth unfinished,
my produce often stunted, bruised, or dented,
the rot upon my nature’s root augmented
by blights I brought and beauties I diminished.
God grant when I know others by their fruits,
I also recollect how weak their roots.
YOU MIGHT ALSO LIKE
Voyages to the End of the World
Francis Bacon dreamed of abolishing disease, natural disasters, and chance itself. He also dreamed of abolishing God.
The Cambrian Implosion
A historical moment ago, it was too obvious for words, but: Life is a blessing. So to…
Where Is God in The Lord of the Rings? (ft. Douglas Estes)
In the latest installment of the ongoing interview series with contributing editor Mark Bauerlein, Douglas Estes joins…
