GRACE (again)

 

If Grace rowed to me

in my struck brig

I found that Grace

had watched for me before.

If Grace had set the light

to my distant ship

Grace set the fire

for my rescued self. 

When I turned my back

on the sun

Next morning there it was

blazing in my face.

Before Grace nursed me

to good health

It was Grace whose scalpel

had wounded me.

When grace upon grace

pulsed through my arteries

It was Grace which held

the syringe.

If Grace fed me richly

in the Father’s house

Grace in the far country

had brought my famine.

Though Grace gave me rags

in the far country

Come into the Father’s house

it clothed my richly.

While Grace made me know sonship

in the Father’s house

Grace had seen, in the far country, 

me as a son.

After Grace comforted me

when I was sad

Grace preserved me

when I was happy.

If Grace provided a repast,

free of labour,

Grace taught me how to hunt,

to flay and to cook.

Since Grace guided me

in sowing

Grace helped me

in harvesting.

How right that when Grace

paid dearly for my ransom

Grace should acquire me

as its bondman.

As it was Grace that filled me

with the new wine

It was Grace that created

my new skin. 22002

When I wrote this, and the previous poem, I think that I had the story of Grace Darling in mind: Grace Darling.

Inside or looking out of Culzean Castle (have you spotted the Lego person?)