Mental Tillage

ROSAMOND CHRISTABEL RASHLEIGH

Too long the furrows of my thought have lain
Fallow; and I must rise and till, and sow,
Asking Thy guidance and Thy loving help,
That seeds of right desire and love may grow.
First shall I take at Thy command the plow
Which stands for right endeavor, and commence
To till the ground and root up all the weeds,
Using for this the blade intelligence.
Next will I have to harrow all the field,
And patience is the instrument I need;
For not until this work is done, can I
In greater things hope quickly to succeed.
Then comes the drill in which the seed is sown;
'Tis called obedience, and the seed is love.
And so the tender shoots of faith appear,
And though the clouds of doubt are thick above,
Or criticism rains, and blight of fear,
Though devastating winds of passion blow,
They soon will pass away, and lo! the warmth
Of Love's bright sun will cause the plant to grow.
Now I must watch, and keep in check the tares
That soon would choke, if left, the tender shoots,
While underneath the soil goes on the growth
Of virtue, knowledge, truth, which are the roots.
Well do these serve when growing strong and deep
To make the plant more firm against each gale,
Bringing the moral strength it needs to stand
The storms of mortal sense that oft assail.
Then with what joy shall I await the day
The precious buds of promise shall appear,
And with what patience must I leave to Him
The right unfoldment of each blossom clear!
For surely will the time of wisdom come,
When consciousness awakes to know God's power,
Growing like Him in all things, and shall see
The sweet unfoldment of Love's perfect flower.
And then, when flower in turn has given place
To golden grain, o'er vale and mountain steep
The Master's voice will echo, Faint thou not!
For in due season thou shalt surely reap.

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