I
(c1978)
To
most it simply is their livelihood
To
change the live silver until it's dead
And
filthy clanging silver and they could
Just
as well pass their days in making bread
Or,
if they had the brains, transcripts of Greek.
Day
clashing after day of scratching knives
Strung
into week following tedious week
Grind
out their tepid, barely half-
lived lives.
He's
not like this. To him the lithe white flakes
Of
muscle and the delicate web of bones
Constitute
his material - when he hones
His
knife and soothes the flesh and bones apart
It
is his magnum opus which he makes
For
every fillet is a work of art.
II
(25/12/90)
Perfection
was the aim: even his writing
Was
evidence of reaching for perfection,
Unlike
my own crabbed hand. His mind delighting
In
flawlessness could show a predilection
For
no one of my kind; his approbation
Seemed
to evade me -
rightly I confess.
Yet
graciousness that salved our situation
Was
further evidence of saintliness.
Those
who each day saw him about his trade
Found
no more apt description of him than,
In
all their market, "the last gentleman".
They
could not fathom that in all these days
Another
Man was more and more displayed:
The
Perfect Man, through faith, engaged his gaze.
III
(26/12/90)
Gentleness,
humour, generosity:
He
never spanked me once -
in case he hurt;
And
I recall one over-boisterous day
When
deeds more vigorous and words more curt
Would
have more aptly answered my attack.
When
he told jokes you'd lose the point till after
But
not feel any sorrier for the lack:
He'd
spoil the tale, yet cheer you, with his laughter.
As
for his generosity, that theme
Is
subject of abundant evidence;
He
worked long hours for substance to dispense
And
used his time for visits to deliver
His
many gifts -
because of the esteem
Of
Him he knew as the transcendent Giver.
IV
(27/12/90)
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.
The Lord Jesus took my father to be with Himself 32 years ago today.