RECOGNITION.
Out of my need you come to me, O Father, Not as a Spirit, gazing from on high, Not as a wraith, gigantic in its outlines, Waiting against the tumult of the sky! Father,. you come to zne in threads of music, And in the blessedness of whispered mirth’ f ra o rance of frail garden flowers, when summer lies across the drowsy earth!
nl -’ ne ed you come to me, O Father,' When I can scarcely see the path ahead— It is your Hand that turns the sky, at evening, Into a sea of throbbing, pulsing red It is your call that sounds across the marshes, It is your smile that touches fields of grain, Painting them with pale gold—it is your nearness
That makes me see new beauty, after paint
Out of my need you come to me, O Father—as a present vast- and-great and still, But as the purple mist that clings each morning, To the slim summit of a pine-crowned hill. Not as a vague and awful power that urges, Urges and prods and hurries me. along— But as a Hand that paints a lovely picture. But as a Xoice that sings a tender song! n ~^ rgaret Sangster > in th e Christian
Permanent link to this item
https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/OW19270201.2.289.2
Bibliographic details
Otago Witness, Issue 3803, 1 February 1927, Page 74
Word Count
207RECOGNITION. Otago Witness, Issue 3803, 1 February 1927, Page 74
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