Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;
And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;
And wears man’s smudge and shares man’s smell: the soil
Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.
And for all this, nature is never spent;
There lives the dearest freshness deep down things...
Sunday 2 September 2012
Complaint
I will stand at my watch and station myself on the ramparts; I will look to see what he will say to me, and what answer I am to give to this complaint. (Habakkuk 2:1)
Father, I will not do this my way. I will learn what you have to teach me. I will bend my heart to you. I will wait. I will listen for your voice. I will have your good. I will have You.
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