42. The Children of the World
[In praise of children’s counselors, advocates,
and protectors—beloved of the Savior.]
I
From time to time within our midst,
There may arise a shooting star.
An intellect so bright and crisp,
It dazzles, coldly, from afar.
How rarer still their constant light,
That radiates a warming glow.
It drives out fear with courage bright.
Praise God, such caring hearts we know!
Still, most think life is for the loud.
On every hand we seem to spy,
The vain and vulgar leading crowds,
The humble flee the public’s eye.
And so we laud these quiet souls,
Of simple virtues, loving hearts.
For once, we praise those of like mind,
The healers of the helping arts.
So many years they’ve labored well,
The children’s pain their sacred trust,
With faith, they fought their parents’ hell.
They served the young, as serve they must.
Some hearts, like ships with nets unfurled,
Will seek the children of the world.
II
These do not labor all alone,
A valiant host joins in this fight.
Through care and craft, their love is shown,
A flame of hope in sin’s grim night.
This is no struggle for the weak,
Their judgment challenged, patience worn.
Endowed with little, they dare seek,
To serve, despite the public’s scorn.
None but the brave can drink this cup,
Of quick rebuke and damning praise.
While some may feast, these servants sup,
On meager fare, through lengthy days.
And yet their bonds of love grow strong!
By sharing hardship, they are one.
Through tender service they belong,
To Him who’s cause they will have won.
To all such we should honor give,
And wish them Godspeed through their days!
We bid them strength, and hope we live,
So as to aid them on their way.
Some feet, though weary, blistered, and unshod,
Will search the paths where Jesus trod.
III
We need not visit distant lands,
To see the pain of hopeless years.
Nor need we feel His side and hands,
To know the cause of bloody tears.
No, all too close, we see the need,
For faith’s strong shield and Spirit’s sword.
As long as life is ruled by greed,
There will be lambs, in pain, ignored.
Then seek we all to love each one.
Tis not my boy, nor tis your girl,
To Him whose suffering has won,
The ransomed children of the world.
Then let us join them as they strive,
To feed His lambs, to seek and find,
Each one that’s lost and all alone:
And bring them, joyfully, back Home.
And should we err, in doubt or pride,
To think we do this work alone.
The night reveals what day can hide
The countless diamonds of His throne.
Some hands, like those from Galilee,
Will save those tossed on stormy seas.
(c) www.servingjesuspoetry.com
Unlimited non-commercial usage allowed.
Context
A member of the office staff where I once worked asked me to write a poem for a good friend who was about to retire from a public counseling agency. Her friend, “Paul,” was formerly a priest who lived and worked for many years in Hong Kong. While there, Paul met his future wife, “Rebecca,” then serving as a nun. Paul’s poem, “The Children of the World,” was based upon my personal experiences with members of the helping professions at BYU.
The broader story of “Paul” and “Rebecca” was compelling, and so I recorded “Rebecca’s” life of service and sacrifice in a separate “free verse” poem “To a Woman of Tempered Steel” found as No. 99, based upon supplied additional background information. If the emotions which I felt so strongly as I received these verses should, in some small fashion, be conveyed by the Spirit, then praise God, and recognize the truth with which I am now comfortable—all good things come from the Lord.
[In praise of children’s counselors, advocates,
and protectors—beloved of the Savior.]
I
From time to time within our midst,
There may arise a shooting star.
An intellect so bright and crisp,
It dazzles, coldly, from afar.
How rarer still their constant light,
That radiates a warming glow.
It drives out fear with courage bright.
Praise God, such caring hearts we know!
Still, most think life is for the loud.
On every hand we seem to spy,
The vain and vulgar leading crowds,
The humble flee the public’s eye.
And so we laud these quiet souls,
Of simple virtues, loving hearts.
For once, we praise those of like mind,
The healers of the helping arts.
So many years they’ve labored well,
The children’s pain their sacred trust,
With faith, they fought their parents’ hell.
They served the young, as serve they must.
Some hearts, like ships with nets unfurled,
Will seek the children of the world.
II
These do not labor all alone,
A valiant host joins in this fight.
Through care and craft, their love is shown,
A flame of hope in sin’s grim night.
This is no struggle for the weak,
Their judgment challenged, patience worn.
Endowed with little, they dare seek,
To serve, despite the public’s scorn.
None but the brave can drink this cup,
Of quick rebuke and damning praise.
While some may feast, these servants sup,
On meager fare, through lengthy days.
And yet their bonds of love grow strong!
By sharing hardship, they are one.
Through tender service they belong,
To Him who’s cause they will have won.
To all such we should honor give,
And wish them Godspeed through their days!
We bid them strength, and hope we live,
So as to aid them on their way.
Some feet, though weary, blistered, and unshod,
Will search the paths where Jesus trod.
III
We need not visit distant lands,
To see the pain of hopeless years.
Nor need we feel His side and hands,
To know the cause of bloody tears.
No, all too close, we see the need,
For faith’s strong shield and Spirit’s sword.
As long as life is ruled by greed,
There will be lambs, in pain, ignored.
Then seek we all to love each one.
Tis not my boy, nor tis your girl,
To Him whose suffering has won,
The ransomed children of the world.
Then let us join them as they strive,
To feed His lambs, to seek and find,
Each one that’s lost and all alone:
And bring them, joyfully, back Home.
And should we err, in doubt or pride,
To think we do this work alone.
The night reveals what day can hide
The countless diamonds of His throne.
Some hands, like those from Galilee,
Will save those tossed on stormy seas.
(c) www.servingjesuspoetry.com
Unlimited non-commercial usage allowed.
Context
A member of the office staff where I once worked asked me to write a poem for a good friend who was about to retire from a public counseling agency. Her friend, “Paul,” was formerly a priest who lived and worked for many years in Hong Kong. While there, Paul met his future wife, “Rebecca,” then serving as a nun. Paul’s poem, “The Children of the World,” was based upon my personal experiences with members of the helping professions at BYU.
The broader story of “Paul” and “Rebecca” was compelling, and so I recorded “Rebecca’s” life of service and sacrifice in a separate “free verse” poem “To a Woman of Tempered Steel” found as No. 99, based upon supplied additional background information. If the emotions which I felt so strongly as I received these verses should, in some small fashion, be conveyed by the Spirit, then praise God, and recognize the truth with which I am now comfortable—all good things come from the Lord.