The Gift

MARIAN GREGG

I have besought my Father for a gift,
For He has said, "Ask what you will of Me;"
And knowing that I am His son and heir
I bridled not my craving, nor did wear
A suppliant look, but gazed, courageous-eyed,
Up to His throne and cried:
"Give me the greatest blessing that You hold,
Nor fame, nor length of days, nor useless gold;
The gift of gifts I ask You for my part—
'An understanding heart.'"

Well pleased that I should speak in princely terms,
And seek none other than a royal boon,
The Father turned upon my urgency His wonted grace:
"The gift is large," He said; "you must prepare a place."

And now I stand here in this cluttered gloom.
My noble gift must find a fitting home;
The very walls of thought must widened be,
My task to hammer out full patiently
A larger treasure house, this heaped-up store
Discard for that which cries for room and more.
These dear, long-valued gatherings must depart
Because of you, O understanding heart.

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