Child of my love, lean hard,
And let Me feel the pressure of thy care,
I know thy burden, child; I shaped it,
Poised in Mine own hand, made no proportion
In its weight to thine unaided strength;
For even as I laid it on I said,
'I shall be near, and when she leans on Me,
This burden shall be Mine not hers;
So shall I keep my child within the circling arms,
Of Mine own love.' Here lay it down, nor fear
To impose it on a shoulder which upholds
The government of worlds. Yet closer come,
Thou art not near enough; I would embrace they care,
So I might feel My child reposing on my breast.
Thou lovest me? I know it. Doubt not, then,
But loving Me, lean hard.
Source unknown.
Thankyou, Heather, for sending this beautiful poem to me. I wanted to share it with you all.
No comments:
Post a Comment