Kalamazoo Community of Christ

Own Tongue

Potpourri
Tragedy Sep 11
Own Tongue
Nature of Love
Touch Master
Seasonal
Oakman

EACH IN HIS OWN TONGUE


A FIRE MIST and a planet-
A crystal and a cell,-
A jellyfish and a saurian,
And caves where the cave men dwell;
Then a sense of law and beauty,
And a face turned from the clod-
Some call it Evolution,
And others call it God.

A haze on the far horizon,
The infinite, tender sky,
The ripe, rich tint of the cornfields,
And the wild geese sailing high;
And all over upland and lowland
The charm of the goldenrod-
Some of us call it Autumn,
And others call it God.

Like tides on a crescent sea beach,
When the moon is new and thin,
Into our hearts high yearnings
Come welling and surging in-
Come from the mystic ocean,
Whose rim no foot has trod-
Some of us call it Longing,
And others call it God.

A picket frozen on duty,
A mother starved for her brood,
Socrates drinking the hemlock,
And Jesus on the rood;
And millions who, humble and nameless,
The straight, hard pathway plod-
Some call it Consecration,
And others call it God.

 - WILLIAM HERBERT CARRUTH

September 12, 2007

[Potpourri] [Tragedy Sep 11] [Own Tongue] [Nature of Love] [Touch Master] [Seasonal] [Oakman]

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