SARAH

 

You had some husband ‑ dragging you
From civilization and comfort to dwell,
Season after season, in a tent. Neither
Sand deterred nor fertility halted:
Always he loved his vision ‑ which you,
With a wife's common sense, laughed at.
Did long miles and years drain your strength,
Perils of the wayside and in king's palaces
Fray your nerves? Finally, with nothing
But faith to cling to, you found strength
Nature could not provide. With Abraham
You saw Isaac ‑ Christ's day;
And insisted that he alone remain.

If feet still trudged arid or arable
Heart had its peace ‑ its sought country.

Craigmillar Castle in Edinburgh:

associated with Mary Queen of Scots

ABRAHAM

You had felt the land's tilth
Ooze lushly, the land's desert
Sand your feet, its barren rocks
Graze and bruise. You tent's pegs
Had beaten into arid and arable
Ground of your promised land. Never
Had your share dug deep. Although
All was your own your only possession
A grave plot. But there was the possession
Gained from earth, dust and stone
On the hardened feet of you, the wanderer.

And possession of faith. Not human hope against hope
Nor the dull grasping of the disturbed thought through the crust
Of scepticism. But the certainty of trust in the Lord Almighty
‑ The admirable demonstration of bold credulity.
You, like God, saw the things that are not as existing.

Nomadic, but still a builder,
You cast earth, heaped rocks,
Not forms of grand appearance
But created from the textures you knew ‑
Altars. Rough but vital
They stand as milestones on your pilgrimage
Marking, guiding, smoking:
Each altar drew you nearer,
Higher, to become friend of God,
Ready approacher ‑ a priest's service.

Glencorse Reservoir in the Pentland Hills

WATER

Straiton Pond in the Spring

Egypt’s water - the first we knew -

Turned to blood

At the twirl of a staff.

Glad were we when the Red Sea’s water

Left the Egyptian shore

Irretrievably cut off.

Bitter were we till Marah’s drink

Was transformed for us

By cast wood.

Fertility greeted us,

Seventy palm trees,

At the twelve springs of Elim.

We murmured, but it was the Rock

Which was smitten; the Rock

Which gave water.

And the Rock was willing

To follow; to serve water

At the lawgiver’s request.

After our wandering years

At last we could wield staves

To dig the well.

The last water, Jordan, dashed

Hopes; till the ark

Championed our passage.

We have been brought to a good land,

A land of waterbrooks, of springs,

And of deep waters,

That gush forth in the valleys and hills.