Poem March 12, 1955 Issue

SPIRITUAL BREAKFAST

Carrie Whittier Bengtson

At dawn I sit with precious books at hand,
Material senses hushed and clamor stilled,
As hidden truths unfold at Love's command,
When thought is cleansed from mortal servitude—
This is my spiritual breakfast, my true food.
With singleness of heart I now partake
Of that same bread which Jesus broke
And shared with his disciples as he spoke
To them upon the shore of Galilee.
Long had they worked in unrequited toil,
Hearts sorrowful and sense rebuked,
Until they heard their Master's loving words,
"Cast the net on the right side .... and .... find,"
And turned with joy to see their risen Lord.
Obediently they cast, and then they found
Their night of fruitless labor was transformed
To glad awakening, with renewed light
And bounteous recompense.
When on God's care they radically relied,
Their empty nets were filled—Love had supplied.