There came of late an autumn eve
when longing filled my heart to go
to live in light, away for a while
in the House of my Grandfather.
His harvests were rich ones always
⎯this was my faithful trust⎯
and earth-sweet and pungent
with the deep movements of mind.
His gathering delved to roots,
uncovered growth’s secret origins
in dark places, so that hungerings
to be soil myself for living thought
therewith found their best food.
To be apprenticed in nurturing
in the wide fields of understanding
and copious dream I purposed,
watered by His long concern.
For I remember years ago how
His strength, His power gently
cradled the fragility of my soul⎯
a babe to be a god one day,
a seed to be a tree fruit-laden,
a flowering meadow to be free.
And I find a fragrance of my own
there in my Grandfather’s House,
there under His husbandry
⎯yea! this is my faithful trust⎯
when He brings His harvest home.
