Poem January 14, 1985 Issue

Contemplation

STANLEY JOHN YORK

Teach me where I need to go.
Show me clearly. I would know
not human will but Your design—
meekly patterned—make it mine.

Often I have plowed lone furrow,
staring, anxious, at the morrow.
Now, sandal-clad, I wait the cue,
Your words to speak, my role assume.

Of Your trust I'd worthy be
and, trusting, stand obediently—
thus to find my unique place,
supported by Your caring grace.

STANLEY JOHN YORK

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Editorial

Remarkable conclusions about reality

January 14, 1985

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