By: Clifford Hennings
To whom do your feet belong,
on whose ground does your journey lay?
Whose seal does your forehead bear
and whose light guides your travel’s way?
In whom does your heart find rest,
and swoon at the sovereign’s voice?
To whom does your hand stretch out
and at whose triumph does your soul rejoice?
I see two ways which we might go,
the first is dark and its scene austere,
The lane is narrow with twist and turn
Peril lurks if you should from it veer
The second cuts through open range,
Verdant and smelling of sweet perfume
Its grass softens your easy gait,
While eyes feast on countless bloom.
To answer which might you choose,
should seem a simple task I’m sure,
But what of where these passages end,
and in whose company important all the more!
You take the first for an empty tomb to find
And pilgrim along with a godly friend
Take the second for an barren heart to get
Alone with no one to help it mend
Give back to Caesar that which is his,
and to God in Heaven what is His by right.
Yet if you should covet the bullion of men,
I fear its shimmer will haze your sight
The richest path holds neither gold nor fame
But boasts a cross, a most blessed tree
Strength is found in stooping low,
Wealth is gained in generosity.
Glory earned in shouldering the beam,
Honor in putting the weak ahead.
Virtue found in searching wisdom,
Power borne from being led.
Drop your bags of earthly charms
and give to God what belongs to Him,
What is His I tell you is your very self,
Craft your life a gracious hymn.
Do this child of mercy’s home,
And you shall know Heaven’s gate,
Follow the way kings scarcely trod,
And at the entry will Beauty for you wait
Make your home the place unseen
And teacher be the prince of peace
Forget the baubles which envy holds
And cling to Him that shall never cease.