DECLARATION by LEXIE DEAN ROBERTSON

DEAR Lord:
If I had walked with you in Galilee
My way could not have seemed so hard
By that blue sea.
The little nagging cares of every day
That rasp a tired mind till taut nerves fray
Could not have mattered when your patient eyes
So kind with tender counsel
Bade my heart be wise.
There could have come no wraith
Of pale grey doubt
To cloud my faith,
When at some misty dawn
That found you spent
With weary hours of praying
I could have lent
My cottage hearth to warm you,
And have spread for you my table
With its honeycomb and bread.
It would have been my joy to serve you, Lord.
When I had cut for you sweet purple grapes
Warm with the sun,
Or brushed your garments free from roadside dust,
Or knelt to loose the latchet of your shoes,
I would have known the glory of your smile
When I had done.
But lacking these:
The warm touch of your hand,
The human You that I can understand,
And lost in futile questionings of creed
Where bickerings take precedence of need,
To memory of a star and one dark hill
I cleave,
And oh, dear Lord, I must—
I do
Believe!

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