Home and Garden

The joys our God is growing

in the homes He will redeem
Aren't hidden in some hothouse,
locked away for leisure's show. . .
These bright bouquets immortal
ought in every room to gleam,
Where'er in you I'm taken
radiate their godly glow.

The peace and joy of Jesus
are not overgrown and lush;
They grow not as a jungle
for all clumsy scythes to claim. . .
The Gardener's knowing patience
works within a holy hush,
From room to room maintaining,
keeping each wild tendril tame.

Gay roses in the kitchen,
water lilies in the bath,
All need the expert urgings
of the Eden-crafter's care. . .
Dark-dwellers so deficient
and so lately saved from wrath:
How can we hope for harvest
if all rooms we fail to share?

So often we restrict Him,
Cultivator of the seed
That grace once gladly planted
in each box and every bed. . .
We set the stifled hours
when we think His hands we need,
Not dreaming that imprisoned
petals elsewhere lie half-dead!

Let us allow Him access
to each chamber of our hearts,
For flowers fully flourish---
sweetest blooms of loving joys---
Where He who plants is granted
ministrations of those arts
That gently loose each blossom
and position it with poise.

O Joy of my salvation!
not a closet would I keep
Unopened to Your presence,
for its flowers soon would fade. . .
O Jesus, gentle, joyful---
tranquil Spring so sure and deep---
You have free reign within me,
'til new Eden You have made!


MNA
June 30, 1995