Living Worship – a poem
“I appeal to you, therefore, brothers, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship.” Rom. 12:1
The floury palm that presses once again
into the yielding dough, it is “I love”
that wrings the sopping rag and scours the pan,
that knows the choicest spot to stroke above
the ear or underneath the chin – each form
of kindly touch or labor is “I love”.
The fingers settling root and seed and corm
into the crumbling loam, the hands that move
to draw the thread through cloth or thought through pen,
through brush and clay the shadows glories prove –
to trace the labor of those scarred hands
that formed the all from nothing is “I love”.
For Love Himself is bread and breath and fire,
mold of my clay and spring of my desire.
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