Monday, June 21, 2010

"'A corn of wheat' I hold within my hand;
Bare grain it is-a hard, uncomely thing;
I let it fall into the ground and die
And lo! therefrom I see new life upspring;
A shoot; a blade; then ears of ripened corn!
What fruitage from that one small seed is born!

Which thing a parable to me becomes-
Myself, a seed- will but a seed remain
Till I consent, as did my Lord, to die
And so bring forth rich yield of golden grain.
He taught me this, by parable and cross:
My life to gain, of life to suffer loss."

--Thomas O. Chisholm

No comments:

Post a Comment