How often, said the Lord, I would have gathered
You underneath my wings, as a hen would
Gather her chicks; unmothered and unfathered,
You would not take the way for your own good.
Yet long ago the Gentile Ruth had travelled
To come beneath the shelter of God's wing,
Orphaned and widowed, with her life unravelled,
To find God as resource in everything.
Come into manhood to endure the weathers
Of a sin-smitten world of suffering
Christ knew the refuge of the Almighty's feathers
And knew the refuge of the Father's wing,
Until He underwent the greatest storm
To shelter His new brood, and make us warm.
Blackness Castle and the Firth of Forth
I think the poem you've published here is one of your best, David. Wow! Blessings always!
ReplyDeleteThank you; my wife read psalm 91 to her aged mother who has just been taken into a care home, and I enjoyed the references to wings and feathers.
DeleteThis is a very good one. Jesus, maximally masculine, can still be pictured in the hen protecting her chicks. When the storms of life are swirling around us, it's easy to forget his ever-present, ever-vigilant, all-powerful protection.
ReplyDelete