From Edwin McNeal Poteat, Jr.
I, who love beauty in the open valleys,
Tintings of sunset, and the swallow’s flight,
Must breathe the air of squalid city alleys,
Shut from the cool caresses of the night.
Wistful of fragrance where the springtime dallies,
Sharing with sordid souls a city’s blight.
He, too, loved beauty, but a city drew Him.
Flowers He found in little children’s eyes;
Something of grace in lepers stumbling to Him
Fragrance of spikenard spilt in sweet surprise;
Joy in forgiving men at last who slew Him!
Courage in service, hope in sacrifice.
During the season of Lent, daily meditations from members of the Pullen community are being posted online. Subscribe by email at www.pullen.org/category/meditation.