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Friday, February 8, 2019

‘In the Rows’


In the rows they stand,
Admiring the artistry
Of Gracious God:
Sweet basil and tarragon,
White mulberry, dark-red cherry,
And deep-shining elderberry;
Trees of black walnut and hickory,
Silken ears of corn
Near slender hanging pods
Of purple-hull peas;
There in the wild thrives
Calming milk thistle
And tangy muscadine;
In the kitchen lingers
The delightful smell
Of freshly baked bread -
Sourdough pancakes
Cooked on the cast iron griddle.

This great created world!
Suffused with Divinity,
Fed by the bright sun-fire
And the moonlight silver-mild
Flowing from the sky,
By the slimy-slick earthworm
Gliding through soil below,
By gifts from chicken, goose, and hog
Here in fair middle-earth;
The march of the seasons
They know right well
From budding boughs and slender stalks,
Harvest hues and flying fowl,
The turning constellations of the stars;
Warm and cold, storm and calm,
Are welcome when they come,
Things for praise and not for blame;
Its handsome fruit:
The kind, Christian man and maiden.

--

Holy Ælfred the Great, King of England, South Patron, pray for us sinners at the Souð, unworthy though we are!

Anathema to the Union!

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