Monday, 18 May 2009



Perfection was His aim: in every day
The work of God progressed towards its end.
Natural aptitudes had lessened sway
In Father's trade; instead he could perpend ‑
And grow in ‑ thoughts of Jesus. God had pleasure
Seeing a soul advancing towards His aim,
Until He added to perfect this treasure
The final thought of "Jesus Christ, the Same".

If Father loved to see a plump and fresh
Haddock or sole come cleanly from the bone
Through skill achieved by careful toil alone
So that no trace of worthlessness was left
His Saviour's stroke which soothed him from the flesh
Was infinitely swifter and more deft.


Written about 10 years after the Lord took my father.

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