"I came to your church
To hear my own language -
Gaelic - spoken.
I had not heard it
In my long campaigning.
You spoke of a child
Secreted by his mother
In a rock cleft; and how,
Wrapped in her plaid,
It survived the storm
She died in.
I loved that mother
Who tenderness sacrificed
Her life for her child.
But now I have learned to love
The Rock, the Christ,
To be ready to die in the cleft
Of that Rock.
I was the child in the cleft."
More of Burnmouth< Scottish Borders
No comments:
Post a Comment
I'm glad to hear how this strikes you!