by John Burroughs
(I thought I should edit this to add: I loved that this poem seemed applicable to so very many things, not the least of which could be a Divine relationship. It made me smile warmly to think of these as God's sentiments. Yes, this from me, the one who wrestles with my concept of Personal God. I know it's overly sentimental of me, and I know it shouldn't quite fit the conventional idea of God's "personality"...I mean, it implies that God once did rave 'gainst time or fate. And if that was true, then the unchanging God would be admitting change. In fact, the poem has more to do with time than we might ever assign to God, unless we think that by mixing Godself up with humans, God has been commtited to dealing with our pesky delays. I have to admit, it is a huge bit of poetic license, (whether on my side or on the poet's) which I find incredibly delightful. And so, the poem.)
SERENE, I fold my hands and wait,
Nor care for wind, nor tide, nor sea;
I rave no more 'gainst time or fate,
For, lo! my own shall come to me.
I stay my haste, I make delays,
For what avails this eager pace?
I stand amid the eternal ways,
And what is mine shall know my face.
Asleep, awake, by night or day,
The friends I seek are seeking me;
No wind can drive my bark astray,
Nor change the tide of destiny.
What matter if I stand alone?
I wait with joy the coming years;
My heart shall reap where it hath sown,
And garner up its fruit of tears.
The waters know their own and draw
The brook that springs in yonder height;
So flows the good with equal law
Unto the soul of pure delight.
The stars come nightly to the sky;
The tidal wave unto the sea;
Nor time, nor space, nor deep, nor high,
Can keep my own away from me.
Of The Best Stuff, but Cracked
2 comments:
Oh my, how to put this, let alone think about it... perfection and imperfection and unchanging God... I tend to think of God as being so completely the created as well as the creation that God can and does rave through that God that is my friend who stands in front of my door each morning and screams at people who pass by, as much as God flows from the paintbrush of Raphael or Degas... and the God is not dealing with our pesky ways as a cumber to Gods perfect plan, but as an expression of God's plan with the balance of all the ways that cause us such confusion and concern. We try to figure out the will of God in so many things, but God's will as our idea of good, kind, but sometimes we forget the God of balance struggles as we do... in or through our struggles with pain and the less easy to call good and kind.
If for you this poem is gospel, than it is, a dearly so without apology. I feel the need to hide that I cry at silly films... but as Quakers exposing our tenderness to God and that of God in each other... well, maybe walking around with tears on our face, or somberish, modest clothes... finding a picture of God in a poem is part of what makes us Friends...
Oh thank you so much amanda for posting this wonderful poem that speaks exactly to my condition.
I spend far too much energy worrying about what might go wrong and my anxiety can totally paralyse me as it has just done for more than a month. Of course I could analyse the words and your analysis is helpful, but they still speak to me and tell me to slow down, accept and wait for God to work.
The poem also reminds me of a message I was given in meeting quite a few years ago now that is still resonating in my life when I let it. I heard these instructions - Count your blessings. Way will open. My time is not your time.
Thanks for reminding me
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